Authors note: Sorry for how late this is. I posted it on A03 and then got sick so I forgot. Was already late as I have been recovering from surgery and had a few hard busy weeks. Regardless next one shouldn't take so long to get out.

Chapter Summary: There are not only secrets lurking but ghosts from the past.


I walk amongst you, but I am not here,

In the grip of an unseen fear.

A ghost of the past, I roam alone,

Carrying burdens, too heavy to be borne.


He was right, Dazai thought; Atsushi wasn't wrong about the creepy atmosphere of the abandoned plant. As he moved in with Jun'ichirō following closely behind, both of them remained hidden under the cover of Light Snow. They slipped past equipment and then down dark corridors lined with pipes, venturing further and further into the base. Dazai was certain he knew where the Obsidian Sun would set up their operation center based on the blueprints of the plant.

Initially, it was just a general observation, but he had to admit it was pretty spot on. Creepy locations had once come with his line of work as a mafioso. Abandoned buildings and a bit of well-played psychological games were often all he needed to extract information through fear alone. So, he wasn't necessarily impressed, despite the observation. There were far spookier places.

"Eeeee!" Jun'ichirō squeaked, the sound subdued in volume but not in feeling. The younger man was clearly on edge. "Eh, sorry," he mumbled a moment later, seeming to breathe a sigh of relief at Dazai's lack of response.

Still, Dazai couldn't ignore that Jun'ichirō was just as unsettled as Atsushi had seemed. It was true they both had more nervous dispositions and less experience, but something didn't sit right with him. He knew Kunikida, and there was an edge to even his voice. He knew Chuuya even better, and the fact that the mafioso was so quiet spoke volumes. Akutagawa was, of course, silent, but his breathing pattern gave him away. Since when had the boy ever been affected by a 'creepy' location?

No, something was off.

"That's... unsettling," Atsushi's whisper came over the com, as if to punctuate the point. Half a minute later, Kunikida remarked—Dazai knew it was for his benefit—that there was water in all the tanks.

Yeah, that was concerning. It sure didn't help his spooked partner, who glanced at him with barely concealed worry and fear.

Dazai was 90% certain all the fear was an ability—a simple case of elimination. If everyone else was uncharacteristically on edge since entering the abandoned treatment plant, yet he wasn't, and given that the Obsidian Sun had members with abilities, it left several explanations. The most logical was the effect of an ability. It made sense to him. If you wanted to keep people from wandering in—urban explorers or security—the ability to induce fear and agitation would be quite handy. Most would turn around long before stumbling onto anything they shouldn't have.

Jun'ichirō jumped again as a rat skittered by. Dazai sighed inwardly and placed a reassuring hand on the younger man's shoulder, close enough to make contact with his neck, trying to project a sense of security. Offering comfort wasn't exactly part of his skill set, but he hoped that his presence—and his ability—might be enough to cancel out the mental effects, at least lessen it to some degree. He wanted to help Jun'ichirō calm down and refocus, even if his ability couldn't fully nullify whatever was causing the fear.

Despite his jumpy and spooked companion, they made good time moving through the base. Light Snow had so much potential, Dazai mused, as he occasionally did. Perhaps he should help the kid expand the ability's possibilities. But then he thought about Akutagawa, who now barely looked him in the eyes, and how all the things he had done in the name of training had affected the younger man. Even now, with Atsushi, he was far from the mentor he should be. No, Jun'ichirō was better off learning on his own or from the others. Experience, such as this, was a good teacher as well. Pushing the thought away, he was pleased when they reached a junction he was certain wasn't far from the operation center's location. Sure enough, he picked up the sound of voices. Dazai signaled for them to stop, pulling Jun'ichirō into the shadows with him.

They watched as, not even a full thirty seconds later, a man turned the corner near them. If it hadn't been for Junichiro's ability, they would have been seen. Dazai had to admit that despite all the untouched potential, the younger man had strengthened his ability quite a bit over the past year, now able to use it for much longer periods of time, even multiple times a day. This was the reason he had been chosen as Dazai's partner this time. Chuuya and Kunikida, for all their skill, couldn't hide them or aid in their agenda the way the redheaded Tanizaki could.

Carefully following as close as they could without alerting the man to their presence, the duo was pleased to find themselves just outside the command center. There were several offices and a small lounge for staff, just as Dazai had expected, converted into the Obsidian Sun's preferred place to plan and plot while at the abandoned plant. Now, they needed to get the members out of the offices and lounge so they could gather the necessary information for Ranpo without tipping them off to the breach in data. Knowing the Mafia had attacked or that civilian security had stumbled in was one thing; knowing that information that could lead to their downfall had been found was another.

Moving back and away so he could go unheard, Dazai stood behind some pipes down the corridor a bit before touching his earpiece and switching to a private channel so he wouldn't put Kunikida and Atsushi on edge more than they already were. He spoke lowly, and in someone's opinion too cheerily, into the comm system. "You're up, Chuuya-kun and Akutagawa-kun. I need a teensy tiny diversion. Have fun."

"Use the code words, asshole," was heard over the calmer response from his former mentee. "Yes, Dazai-san."

Dazai only snorted, not missing the bemused expression on Junichiro's face at the tiny Mafioso's not-so-tiny temper. Ah, sometimes he did miss the hat rack. Just sometimes.


"You're up, Chuuya-kun and Akutagawa-kun." To their surprise, Dazai's voice came over a private channel. The sound of his voice, with that gratingly childish tone, got under Chuuya's skin, adding to his already frayed nerves. "I need a teensy tiny diversion. Have fun." And it didn't take a genius to catch the height joke. Akutagawa could see the desire to punch his old mentor in his partner's eyes.

With immense—and in Akutagawa's opinion, amazing—self-control, Chuuya chose words instead of violence. Still, Akutagawa could easily picture the mafia executive tearing up the plant to get at Dazai. He mused whether it was the need for a decent excuse for Mori that stopped Chuuya, or remnants of their friendship. There was a time when Akutagawa would have been angered at anyone even speaking unkindly about the ex-mafioso, let alone hitting him. Now, honestly, he often felt bad for Atsushi and found he sometimes couldn't blame Chuuya's violent desires (or words) against the man.

"Use the code words, asshole," Chuuya growled, probably realizing that Dazai hadn't been listening when they had discussed code words, which had ironically been suggested by Dazai himself.

"Yes, Dazai-san." Akutagawa sighed, trying to remember that Dazai was a necessary pain in his life.

"Ah, good. Thank you, Akutagawa-kun. I need it in five-ish minutes. Byeee."

"If it was just him, I'd say let him be his own diversion." Chuuya grumbled and glanced at his watch. "I trust you can take care of this. I have a couple places I want to check—good positions according to the blueprints for testing whatever this damn water weapon is."

Akutagawa gave a curt nod, eyes flitting about from a sense of unease, and wasn't surprised by the man's next words. There was a reason many called him 'Momma' Nakahara (of course, all behind his back because none wished to die a crushing death).

"Speak up if you need me. It won't take me long to get back to you."

"Of course," Akutagawa replied before coughing into his hand. He wasn't going to admit he would rather they didn't split up.

"I mean it, no need to tackle every problem on yo—"

"You could just kill me now."

Chuuya glanced at his watch again but raised an eyebrow at him. "Wow, you spend too much time with tiger-boy. That sass is rubbing off."

Akutagawa smirked, "Shouldn't you be going?"

"Fine, fine…I'm gone." Chuuya hesitated, then shook his head, spun around, and disappeared down a corridor as if he was never there.

He wasn't wrong. Atsushi had a tendency to sass some of the other agents, especially Dazai—a fact that had once angered Akutagawa but now amused him.

Glancing at the time himself, Akutagawa silently and swiftly moved closer to the staff lounge, reaching an area just down the corridor from where he knew Dazai waited. His sharp gaze fixed on the dimly lit corridors of the water treatment plant. It was the perfect spot, as it had weaknesses he could exploit. According to the briefing, the plant was running on some sort of generator since it was officially abandoned. He had figured he could take advantage of that. It was always nice to be right.

It was while he was shifting his position that something over the comm made his blood run cold. The blonde detective had been saying something to Atsushi, then suddenly stopped, followed by the sound of a commotion. But what truly froze him in place, what made his stomach drop, was the code word: "Torch." He wasn't sure who had said it, but right after, he was certain it was Atsushi who yelped. The meaning was clear—they had been captured.

Months ago, Atsushi being in danger would have mattered very little to him, aside from the oppressive desire to kill the man himself. Akutagawa was more than aware of his tendency to be like a dog with a bone about anything of importance to him. His obsession with gaining Dazai's approval and proving himself greater than Atsushi was just one example. He had been so single-minded that he couldn't see the cage he had placed himself in. It took nearly dying—well, actually dying and being brought back—to take stock of his life. To see the truth in several matters, both about Dazai himself and about Atsushi. There was a freedom he had never expected by letting go of his need for his tormentor's approval, and so much to gain by allowing his reluctant partnership with Atsushi to evolve.

He wasn't sure what to label the change. Friendship seemed too much and too little at the same time. This was new territory for him, allowing someone close enough to discuss emotions he often had no idea how to handle. Joining the Mafia had given him a way to release what had, for the longest time, felt like the only thing he could really feel, beyond his love for his sister—a rage at the world. Not just rage, but a disgust for most everyone around him. People were disappointing, cruel, and selfish. That's how he had viewed things, and even now, he still did at times. But Atsushi pushed him to think beyond his narrow worldview and to see beauty where once he had only seen disappointment.

Funny enough, Atsushi's interference in his life had not only altered his point of view but also improved his work and home life. Mindless killing had never been very helpful for gaining information, or perhaps for Mori, the simple pleasure of having a patient (Atsushi wasn't thrilled at being responsible for helping Mori), and being caught up in the work had left little time for the bond he once had with his sister. Now, it was once more treated with the care and attention it deserved—what his sister deserved. Akutagawa found that rage and killing were truly not what he was made of. He was more than that, and most importantly, he felt happy. Perhaps not all the time, but far more than he had in years.

All of these changes placed Atsushi's well-being above his own. He may not know what word to use to express what Atsushi was to him, but he did know that he would selfishly hold on to it. That said, he knew he could not rush to the man's rescue—this was part of the mission. Despite the cold worry sitting in his chest, adding to his already frayed nerves, he resisted the urge to rush off to be at his partner's side.

"Nakajima, report. Kunikida, report in," Dazai tried several times, but there was no response from them. However, they did pick up on voices talking. Akutagawa couldn't make them out, but he knew the agents in the van were likely catching every word.

"Stay focused," Dazai once again spoke on a private channel. "Kunikida and Atsushi can handle this."

Akutagawa didn't bother responding, knowing his silence would be the answer Dazai was expecting. So, despite the gnawing anxiety pooling in the pit of his stomach, he forced himself to stay focused and maintain his position rather than going after his partner.

Akutagawa crouched once more in the shadows, fighting the erroneous and persistent feeling of being watched that had been plaguing him since they entered the plant. The air was thick with the musty scent of stagnant water, forcing him multiple times to muffle a cough, and every sound seemed amplified in the oppressive silence. With new found determination, his hand twitched, the familiar darkness of Rashomon curling along the edge of his coat, rippling at his fingertips, eager to be unleashed.

He knew his role was crucial in fooling the Obsidian Sun. The diversion had to be effective, precise, and unmistakably Mafia. With a subtle and decisive nod to himself, Akutagawa slipped his hands into his coat pocket, extended Rashomon, the dark fabric snaking out with a whisper, moving with a deliberate awareness that made it seem almost predatory, as though it were a living extension of his will. It slithered along the walls, seeking its target.

The first strike was calculated. Rashomon sliced through the power cables running along the ceiling, sending a shower of sparks raining down as the lights flickered and died. The corridor was plunged into darkness, and Akutagawa could almost hear the collective intake of breath from the Obsidian Sun members as they were thrown into confusion.

Rashomon moved again, this time lashing out at the supporting beams of a storage area just beyond the lounge. The metal groaned under the force, buckling as crates toppled and crashed to the ground. The sound reverberated through the plant, a deep, echoing boom designed to alarm and feel like a larger attack than a single man.

He could easily imagine the unease growing among the Obsidian Sun members. They would now be on edge, but not yet panicked. That was good. They needed to believe they were under a coordinated, controlled attack.

Akutagawa smirked, his cold grey eyes narrowing as he directed Rashomon once more. This time, the dark tendrils coiled around a nearby gas line. With a quick, decisive motion, Rashomon punctured it, releasing a hissing cloud of gas that began to fill the air. The pungent odor would be unmistakable, and it would only be a matter of time before someone noticed the danger.

He withdrew slightly, letting the gas leak unnoticed for a moment. They would hear the hissing soon, and it would only heighten their fear. But they wouldn't flee just yet—not until they were sure of the threat. Akutagawa's lips curled into a grim albeit pleased smile as he listened for the inevitable sounds of movement, the hurried footsteps of those who would soon be forced out of their safe haven. Left unknowingly exposed to the Demon Prodigy.

The stage was set. The Obsidian Sun would believe they were under a Mafia attack, just as planned. And Akutagawa would be ready to strike again, to keep them confused and vulnerable.


Consciousness returned much the same way it had left. Atsushi came awake with a gasp that, to his dismay, was chokingly captured in his throat by a gag. He quickly realized, after trying to pull the gag out, that his wrists and ankles were also bound. After this initial realization, he lay there, eyes closed, still as a stone, breathing slowly to escape the feeling of not being quite attached to himself. It was like he was floating above his own body, tethered to it like a balloon. As things settled enough for him to come back to himself, he became aware of the grit pressed into one cheek. He began to take stock, one thing at a time.

Thankfully, he had sensation in both hands and feet, though they were bound. He was curled into a fetal position, and the gag in his mouth was rough and tasted sour, like sweat. He huffed out a breath through his scrunched-up nose in response to the taste and was met with a spinning sensation that confused his sense of whether he was upright against a wall or lying on the concrete. His spatial awareness and sense of direction were still skewed, and he feared how much worse it would be when he opened his eyes.

Moments later, he blinked repeatedly as he opened his eyes, but found it was the opposite of helpful. It not only added to his directional confusion but also caused pain, even in the low light. His vision was blurry, and just as before he lost consciousness, it would fade in and out without rhyme or reason.

Despite this, he was relieved to make out the figure of Kunikida lying only a few feet away, tied up and gagged in the same way. The more aware he became, the more intense everything felt. It was as if every sense was hyper-aware—not like the hyper-vigilance he had felt before, but rather as if his sensation had gone from a seven on a scale of ten to a fifty. He felt like he could feel everything, all at once—the ground beneath him, the rope around his wrists and ankles, the feel of his clothes against his skin. The sound of water barely moving in the tank, the slightest noises the Obsidian Sun members made, even the sound of his own eyes blinking. The worst was the smell—cologne, rusty water, fresh water, deodorant, sweat, dirt, piss, metal. It was a flood of sensation that made his stomach twist and sent nausea rushing up his throat. He swallowed repeatedly, fighting not to be sick while gagged.

With his eyes closed once more and taking deep breaths in and out through his nose, Atsushi managed to stop the panic that had threatened to overcome him. Once he felt he had some semblance of control, he opened his eyes again. Though it was still disorienting, he was now able to get a sense of where he was.

They were in the corner of an open area surrounded by pipes, large machinery, controls, and what he estimated to be a 15-foot-long, 12-foot-wide empty tank. A staircase led up to a loft that touched the edge of the tank and housed a control center. The tank itself seemed out of place, different from the others they had passed; its style and design didn't match the rest of the plant. It was clearly not designed to treat water, with the most obvious sign resting at the bottom of the tank—a chain attached, ironically, to an anchor. Atsushi had never seen an actual ship's anchor outside of pictures. He was surprised at its size and, after squinting to focus—suffering through a particularly bad spinning sensation—he noted that it had definitely been used at some point, judging by the barnacles clinging to it.

Atsushi tried to relax as much as was possible given the situation and how uncomfortable he was. Forcing tense muscles to ease up, he spent several minutes watching the members. He could still feel his earpiece in his ear, glad they hadn't stripped him of it, which meant he could focus his attention on what he was seeing more than what he was hearing. Yosano in the van was likely picking up a great deal of what the men were discussing, which left him free of trying to use both senses when it was hard enough to just use one. At least until it wasn't so difficult to do so.

The Obsidian Sun members worked fairly quietly, with a bit of agitation—or so it seemed. Atsushi frowned; there was something different from before in their interaction, which had him wondering what had happened while he was unconscious. It took a moment, as his mind was sluggish, very much like it felt while drunk, as if his thoughts were drifting around him and he had to catch them in order to think. It finally hit him that their agitation was due to Akutagawa.

No one seemed to pay him or Kunikida any attention. Atsushi couldn't really tell what they were doing, not with his vision still being funny and not much conversation to hint at it either. But he was able to note the way the members interacted and hoped that would be helpful to Ranpo.

There was a grunt next to him, and he looked over to find Kunikida opening his eyes in much the same way he himself had done only minutes ago. Their eyes connected, and a tension bled from Atsushi's shoulders and seemed to equally ease the lines in Kunikida's face. Although Kunikida looked pale with a tinge of green from nausea, they were both alright. Even if they were dealing with being intoxicated (without any of the enjoyment), they would survive this. They both eventually turned their attention back to the Obsidian Sun.

The longer he lay there, the more the confusion of his senses eased up. He was still dealing with disorientation, but it no longer resided in the sensory overload. He now knew for certain that he was lying on the cold concrete with Kunikida; he still felt disoriented in that way, but not to the point where it actually had him confused.

Being under the influence of the intoxication ability—which really doesn't do it justice—was a challenge, but not impossible to overcome. Atsushi was determined to succeed in his part of the mission since neither he nor Kunikida was seen as a concern. Even when his ability is nullified or incapacitated like it is now, his senses are still far keener than the average person's. His hearing is especially good, and he pushed himself to ignore the way it felt like he kept being subjected to whiplash while simultaneously shifting and dropping, even though he felt concrete beneath him. It was the strangest mix of sensations. Being drunk would be easier right now, but this is what he had to work with, so he did, with a single-minded determination he hoped Dazai would be proud of.

He listened, closing his eyes and focusing on keeping his breaths even, picking up strands of conversation, the sounds of machines, footsteps, and the movement of water. Atsushi didn't just train in fighting with Kunikida, but also in memory games with Dazai (and sometimes Ranpo). This had helped him use what they discovered he was naturally gifted at—excellent sensory recall. Whether it's an aspect of the boy or the tiger is up for debate, but regardless, he had the ability to recall what he sees, hears, or even smells with nearly 100% accuracy—particularly his hearing. So, he listened and filed tidbits away, things he felt might aid in helping them later find and defeat the Obsidian Sun. It would be quicker to relay everything than for them to go back through the recording.

One interesting thing he noted was that the members referred to each other by letter. One man was a G, another a K, and he was certain he heard A as well. Did the letters correspond to the first letter of their names? He couldn't imagine how to go about finding people based on that, but he was certain Ranpo would.

The dark tank near them lit up with a suddenness that was jarring, bright, and intrusive, causing Atsushi to lose his focus. He jolted so strongly that he scraped his face against the floor. The slight queasiness he had been experiencing flared up like a stoked fire, and the strange movement made it hard to focus his eyes, leaving him feeling exposed, not unlike baring his neck to a predator. It reminded him once again that if he needed to fight, he wouldn't likely be able to. That thought was one he kept pushing to the back of his mind. Atsushi kept reminding himself that if he stayed a civilian in their eyes and not a threat, nothing should happen to them. His twitchy eyes fell on the tank anyway, and he gulped, flashes of being submerged in water and fighting till his nails bled popping into his mind unwanted.

He watched, eyes wide and breath starting to come faster than was good for him, as several more members came into the area. Clearly agitated and on high alert, which put Atsushi more on edge. What had them so fired up? Was it Akutagawa? He hoped that was it, and it didn't mean they suspected the civilian security wasn't what they appeared to be. With his thoughts racing, he watched one of the newcomers as he began to grill another member. Despite the anxiety swirling in his chest, making him tingle lightheadedly, he caught how the new man was called "F" and filed that along with other facts he noted. He was close enough that Atsushi could tell he wasn't Japanese by birth. Although he spoke Japanese well enough, he had an accent, and from what Atsushi could tell—despite the mask—he had a fair European complexion, was older, and had light brown hair. The man began inspecting the tank, returning Atsushi's attention to it, and his heart began to race once more. He knew he was starting to panic again.

At the sound of a soft muffled noise, Atsushi tore his eyes away from his fear in physical form to glance at Kunikida. The blonde's complexion was still a bit of an odd shade of green, but Atsushi knew the man had been doing his best to listen as well. Their eyes met, the brief connection he shared with the older man conveying a message Atsushi felt was both approval and a reminder to keep calm, Kunikida likely having sensed his momentary fear. Atsushi gave a slight nod in return and worked to relax his muscles and his breathing, focusing on looking confused and as out of it as he felt. A part of him just longed to crawl into bed and sleep off all the disorientation, sensory confusion, and the disassociation that had returned because of his fear.

Of course, reality had it in for him. Maybe it could be argued he had pissed off some god, or was experiencing the worst karma from being evil in a past life. Whatever it was, it was clear Atsushi would never be allowed to escape his past.

Some of the men had moved closer, packing up some equipment and passing it off to others. Atsushi had to admit he was a bit impressed with their efficiency. His nightmare, however, began when "F," who had been inspecting the tank, now came down a set of steps to the side and in front of where they were tied up. Atsushi was confused about when he had gone up them in the first place. Once the man was about five feet away, he stopped, frozen, and stared at Atsushi. The startlingly bright red-brown eyes were staring at him so intensely that they pinned the weretiger to the floor, causing the hair on the back of his neck to rise, and the edges of his vision darkened. There was something familiar in them, something that made him want to get up and run. His heart began to pound, and his breath quickened. When the man's stern but blank face lit up with recognition and broke out into a grin—the sort that goes from ear to ear and, in Atsushi's experience, always means pain—he found himself trying to scoot behind Kunikida. Unable to stop his body's reaction, it was like being a small child again, trapped by the tension in his frame and the locking of his bones as fear washed over him. The reaction was intense enough that later he could look back and realize it was an ability. Now, in the present, however, he was just trapped. The world around him narrowed its focus down to this moment and place. There was no mission, no fellow agency or mafia members besides Kunikida. There was no help or even, in his mind, hope of escaping.

His mind was blank, and his senses had dulled. He couldn't place the familiarity of the red-brown eyes, although his body seemed to remember. He could feel a terrible ache in his wrists and ankles. A prickling sensation ran up his spine like lightning, all because of the eyes he couldn't look away from.

The man cackled a laugh that made Atsushi wince. Laughter, before his time with the Agency, was often reserved for those who hurt him—adults or other children. It's something he is still learning to do himself, as his time in the orphanage had no joy or anything of innocent amusement for him to experience. What's worse is that he knows this laugh. He stiffened further as he could almost picture a face with the red-brown eyes, of a man looming over him, grinning and laughing as "F" was now.

"Oh… hoho, oh, this is far too rich," he continued, a laugh dancing in the tone of his voice. He moved, closing the gap between himself and Atsushi, who was now sitting frozen on his knees. "F" glanced up at another man on the platform. "G. You won't believe who we have in our midst." He knelt now, clearly enjoying the fear Atsushi was feeling, if his delighted expression was anything to go by.

"Of all the places. Heck, I am surprised you are even alive. Last I heard, the headmaster had enough of you and tossed you out."

"It's the headmaster's toy," the second man said as he approached with a pleased expression now that he was close enough to see the boy. He stared down at a petrified Atsushi. "How'd you manage to get this job?" He looked at Kunikida with a grin of his own. "I bet he's useless and always in the way." He didn't wait for Kunikida to respond. Not that he could.

"Well, G, it seems we have a problem. He knows our names and faces." Despite his eyes finding it difficult, Atsushi kept trying to look at both men. He didn't think "F" sounded annoyed with the discovery of Atsushi and the problem he represented. If anything, the man sounded pleased.

"G" nodded, still smiling at Atsushi. "That's alright." He took "F's" place and knelt in front of Atsushi, his fingers running through the boy's long bangs, Atsushi too afraid to even pull back at the touch. Didn't even register the gag being pulled down from out of his mouth. "This just means we get to have some fun before we leave." At this, "F" flipped open a burner phone and began to type a message.

"G" seemed to be musing as he glanced between the captives, then moved far too quickly for either to react. His hand was suddenly behind Atsushi's head, slamming it hard against the floor, the sound of his nose breaking hanging in the air. Atsushi only barely recognized that Kunikida shouted in reaction. Despite the burning pain in his face, it felt like he wasn't really there. It was both happening to him and yet he was also watching from a distance.

Ignoring Kunikida struggling to shout and move despite being bound and gagged, "G" began, "Seems you made the wrong choice of employment, Kitty. But then, you were never very lucky, were you?" While holding the side of Atsushi's bleeding face to the floor, the man looked again at Kunikida. "You see, your coworker here should have died on the streets after the headmaster finally grew tired of him." He laughed to himself, continuing as if he was actually conversing with Kunikida rather than finding enjoyment from their fear. "I know, I know. I'm not explaining things very well."

He looked back at "F" and held out his hand. The older man stopped typing, raised an eyebrow, and then chuckled when he realized what his buddy wanted. He slipped the knife he had in his belt out and placed the handle against "G's" palm. Atsushi looked at Kunikida in time to watch the man's eyes grow wide as "G" put the point of the knife against Atsushi's upturned cheek.

"Don't worry, we have something special in mind for him. No, I just want to show you the truth of your partner here. See, Atsushi grew up in an orphanage. Did he tell you? As if being a pathetic orphan wasn't enough, he's cursed. The headmaster tried to cure him, but sometimes you just can't cure a beast like him." "G" used the knife to cut down the back of Atsushi's uniform top, then, without any gentleness, flipped the boy over, cutting down one of the sides. He parted the torn fabric and used the knife to point out the scars now revealed.

At this point, Atsushi could hardly catch his breath. Everything tingled, and despite the sense of dissociation he was currently battling, he couldn't help but connect the man's actions and Kunikida, who was there watching. This was one of his nightmares, where the scars he carries physically on his body are revealed, and someone he cares for turns away in disgust. It doesn't matter that somewhere in his heart, he knows those at the Agency aren't like that; he still fears the rejection. The fear is attached to him like his shadow, following him even in the sunlight. How can Kunikida see the evidence of his sins and not be disgusted?

The cold that had planted its icy shards in his chest earlier now washed over him anew, momentarily stealing his breath as he listened over the comms to what was happening to Atsushi. Akutagawa had a flash of memory from the first time he realized that Atsushi's past was marred with pain, just as his own was. Atsushi wasn't just some "lucky" nobody who had managed to make himself Dazai's mentee. Akutagawa knew that Atsushi's past, especially his scars—which he had glimpsed once or twice—was a particularly touchy subject for the weretiger. Akutagawa balled his fists in his pockets, knowing that he couldn't rescue him from this abuse and verbal torment. Atsushi was strong, but even so, Akutagawa knew this would be an emotional setback for him.

Damn it! Why, of all places, did two former orphanage workers have to be here? That was the impression he got—they clearly knew Atsushi. They must have known what he was since they called him "Kitty" or referred to him as a beast.

Dazai's voice came softly over the comm. "Atsushi-kun, listen to me. You are not on your own, nor do we care about your past or your scars. You know that. Trust us. Hold on for just a bit longer."

Then, over a more private channel, he said to Akutagawa and Chuuya, "Let's get this done quick. Akutagawa, there are a few still in the lounge. Deal with them."

Akutagawa stepped out from the shadows that had concealed him and into the dim light of the corridor. A menacing smile played at the corners of his lips. By the time he entered the lounge, Rashomon rippled within his coat, extending toward even the smallest shadows around him. The hint of a smile had transformed into a predatory grin, his bared teeth completing the image of a snarling dog ready to strike.


Author unknown for the Poetry bit.

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