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Kunikida is in a particular kind of mood, the kind only Dazai himself can conjure up with enough lies and distractions to put his schedule off by at least ten whole minutes. Or that’s the gist of the issue Atsushi picks up while only half listening to their argument from the backseat. He’s never been to this part of Yokohama before and the glittering shop windows of the luxury district are much more interesting then the two of them rehashing the same old fight.
He’s explored quite a bit of this city but even the high fashion roads Yosano drags him to pale in comparison to the glittering white tiled walkways and outfits of passersby even Atsushi can see are incredibly expensive. Everywhere else in the city people rush about, bumping shoulders with heads firmly downcast in order to move as quickly as possible. Here though, the people seem to be almost stagnant, casually walking without the pressure of anywhere to be. The entire district screams wealth and surplus and the inner orphan inside of him can’t help but gawk at the display.
“Shiryoku!” Dazai announces, interrupting his thoughts. “Man, this place never changes - Did I ever tell you I’ve been kicked out of most of the bars around here? I wonder if a lifetime ban is still in effect if there’s a change in ownership … “
“You hung out around here?” Atsushi asks curiously, leaning forward to rest his arm on the back of the passenger seat.
“Sure did, most of my contacts were local and like the gentleman I am I always came to them.”
“You mean you wanted expensive booze and didn’t want to pay for it so you hung around like a bottom feeder until someone threw you some scraps,” Kunikida says dryly, eyes never leaving the road.
Dazai grins and pinches Kunikida’s cheek, “It’s almost like you were there.”
Atsushi likes his job, maybe even loves it (depends on the day and who’s currently hunting him), but even he gets sick of running around shipping docks and back alleys. Shiryoku has them scouting out a train line and it’s plush warehouse filled with luxury imports and for once he’s bouncing with excitement to get to snoop around.
“Remember, we’re after the set of slab plates and that’s it,” Kunikida reminds them sternly as they walk through the towering aisles of cargo boxes with ‘fragile’ written in nearly every language stamped across them.
“We’re surrounded by perhaps more wealth than in the rest of the city combined and we’re spending our time searching for big rocks. Great,” Dazai mourns loudly just to irritate his partner, but his eyes are bright and focused as he takes in the room which Atsushi knows means he’s serious.
“What exactly are the slabs for?” He asks, stepping onto one of the pallets to dig through the open boxes currently being repackaged. He’d gotten caught up in an errand with Junichiro that morning and had missed the briefing, Kunkida having picked him up from the post office on their way here.
“There are endless rumors about their potential though all sources agree they are incredibly powerful and would be disastrous if they fell into the wrong hands.”
Atsushi blinks expectantly, knowing Kunikida is being purposely vague for suspense.
The man sighs and adjusts his glasses before busying himself scanning over the next shelf. “Several recent disappearances seem to suggest it can manipulate time.”
“Time? As in time travel?” He gapes. “I thought that kind of stuff was impossible!”
“You transform into a tiger and grow back limbs Atsushi, I’d be careful what I label as impossible if I were you,” Dazai hums from where he’s inspecting his own reflection in a large jewel encrusted mirror.
“Does that mean you really believe it then, that this thing can control time?” He asks, excitement bubbling in his chest. For once they actually get to do a cool mission instead of the usual death and destruction.
“It’d be useful if we could actually examine it which I again will remind you is what we’re here for Dazai!” Kunikida shouts, stomping across the row to try and drag his partner away from his own reflection.
Atsushi grins as he moves deeper into the warehouse to check the next aisle. Not only do they get a cool location but a cool item to recover too, it almost feels like an adventure novel! He considers the image of Daiza and Kunikeda with matching fedoras and whips which is distracting enough he almost misses the crate hanging halfway off the shelf.
He narrowly avoids losing an ankle against the unforgiving wood, the crate looking hastily repackaged as if someone was caught halfway through digging around the contents and didn’t have time to properly push it back on the shelf. It’s a dark black color, standing out against the pale wood crates surrounding it.
It’s also the perfect size for a pair of time travel tablets if he’d have to guess - which he really shouldn’t, he has zero frame of references for any sort of tablet especially magical ones. Still, he can’t help but grin in excitement as he pulls back the thick tarp covering the crate.
Instead of tablets he comes face to face with a pair of dark brown eyes.
Atsushi shouts - or at least tries to. A small but strangely strong hand immediately clamps over his mouth before his can make a sound, another grabbing his shoulder to keep him from jumping back.
“Shh,” The boy whispers, face so close to his own he can feel warm breath against his cheek. “They will be here soon.”
He’s about the same size as Kyoka but his eyes make him seem older, ancient even. They hold a weight Atsushi’s only ever seen in the president and combined with the strength in his grip he isn’t liking what this is adding up to.
“Who will be?” He tries to ask around the hand on his mouth but it comes out garbled and broken.
“You will soon see - you must protect the tablet at all costs.”
The kid knows about the slabs? He cranes his head down to try and see into the crate but the boy shakes his shoulder impatiently. “We have no time for this, you must go back to your comrades. Your only priority is to protect the tablet, do you understand?”
He most definitely does not understand. Does this kid want him to lie to the agency about where the slabs are? Technically it isn’t like he actually saw them but still, why the hell would he do that? And why even is this kid hiding out in a warehouse crate to begin with?
He confusion must show on his face because the boy sighs, still so close and those eyes so old as they seem to stare straight into Atsushi’s soul. “It might take you several attempts but do not worry, you shall succeed.”
Succeed with what? What did this kid want from him? If he could just get Kunikida and Dazai over here he’s sure they’d be able to convince him they didn’t mean any harm - maybe even get him back to his family or wherever the hell he wandered off from.
He doesn’t even get a chance to explain before the brown eyes flash gold, “Ability,” The boy whispers, “Death Comes for the Archbishop.”
His body burns as the ability takes hold and his inner tiger roars somewhere deep inside his head. He feels the coil of restraints around his wrists then jerks as his arms are slammed down to the floor against his will. He can’t see, he can’t breath, all he can do is feel as his body is tied down to the ground -
And then it’s gone.
Atsushi gasps as he stumbles to his feet, rubbing at the shadow pain of restraints on his wrists but there are no cuffs, nothing holding him down. The boy has also disappeared.
“Seriously? All that just so you could run off?” He grumbles under his breath but he’s not hurt and the crate is still in the middle of the floor. He pushes the rest of the tarp off and instead of brown eyes he finds two large stone slabs side by side in shock foam packaging. He can just make out the faint engraving of words in a foreign language and can’t help but reach down to trace over the cool stone.
Nothing happens.
“Not really magical then,” He frowns, feeling nothing but rock underneath his hand. Still, someone had obviously requested these be found if the agency was assigned to the job and that kid sure did seem concerned with them …
He shrugs and starts to head back to where he’d left the others figuring they’d have a much better idea on what to make of the stray kid. Hopefully he isn’t in any trouble, though he can’t exactly think of a lot of positive reasons a kid would be hanging around a place like this. Still, he knows what it’s like to be hungry and alone, hiding out in the first safe place he could squirm his way into. He’d just like to make sure the kid had somewhere else to run back to.
He turns the corner back into the main aisle where he left Dazai and Kunikida but instead of his mentors arguing he’s greeted by twelve armed men poking around crates with their guns. A woman in a neatly pressed white kimono stands by the doors, a delicate fan in one perfectly manicured hand. “It’s here, keep looking,” She orders.
Her eyes flick his way and he prepares for a fight, power rushing to his arm as his fingers lengthen to claws but before he can leap he’s yanked backwards behind a large crate.
“Now now, Atsushi you weren’t seriously planning on fighting an entire mysterious group you know nothing about were you?” Dazai asks him with a razor sharp smile. “Because Kunikida would definitely be disappointed.”
“I would,” Kunikida confirms, crouched down next to them as he spies on said group over the crate. “But I know you weren’t doing that because that would mean you’ve listened to absolutely nothing I’ve attempted to teach you.”
“I - I wasn't’ t- “ He flushes, letting Dazai push him down to sit on the cold concrete next to him. “Who even are these guys?”
“No idea but they’re very armed and seem to be after the exact same thing we arrived here for. Safe to say we’re not working for the same side.”
“They’re after the slabs?” He frowns before his eyes widen in realization, “Shit! I found them but the crate is just sitting out in the open - “
“Over here!” A voice booms through the warehouse and his words trail off. He couldn’t even put the lid back on the crate, he might as well have practically handed the slabs over to these people.
They watch as three of the group return carrying the black crate, setting it down with an echoing thunk in the middle of the floor.
“Looks like we made it just in time,” The woman coos as she inspects the contents, reaching down to trace a hand over the slab that just a few minutes ago Atsushi had held - god he’s such an idiot. How can he even work for a detective agency if he can’t even keep some rocks from being stolen?
“This isn’t good, if they take the slabs they’re as good as gone. Groups like this shift stolen goods faster than we’d ever be able to keep up and leave no trail.” Dazai comments, eyes never leaving the woman.
Atsushi swallows around the thickness in his throat, hands clenching in need to try and fix this situation he’s set them up in. He’s the reason the mission is failing, if he’d just grabbed the slabs they’d be able to sneak out of here but instead he’s ruined the whole operation.
“We’ll need to act fast then,” Kunikida agrees, “you put that mouth of yours to good use and distract them while I come up from behind -“
Atsushi doesn’t hear the rest because the barrel of a gun is now digging into his scalp. One glance at his companions finds them in a similar situation.
Despite witnessing previous encounters of Dazai and guns, the man doesn’t look nearly as pleased, eyes locked on the weapons pressing against his and Kunikida’s skulls in distaste.
“Up,” A deep voice from behind him demands. He glances at Dazai and Kunikida who nod their confirmation and he obediently stands, followed quickly by the other two as they’re escorted into the entryway.
“I thought we managed to beat you here but perhaps that was a bit presumptuous of me. After all, I’ve heard quite the stories of the feats you people pull at the Armed Detective Agency,” The woman smiles, all teeth as she delicately fans her face.
“You have us at a disadvantage,” Dazai says pleasantly. “In more ways then one.”
“Mmm, perhaps the guns are a bit overkill but like I said, I’d prefer not to take any risks when it comes to you people.”
The gun at the back of his head presses in pointedly, making him wince.
“And who do you represent?” Kunikida asks.
The woman’s fan closes with a sharp crack against her palm. “I don’t believe that’s necessary. We have what we want and we’ll be leaving. Don't’ try to follow us, you won’t like what happens.”
“Now!” Dazai shouts, a flash grenade lighting up the warehouse. Before he can so much as inhale Kunikida’s hand is pushing him down, away from the guns as they roll toward the closest crate for cover. Dazai is already there, picking off the two closest guards with bullets to the shoulder as the group recovers from the flash.
“Kid, you think you can make it to the doors?” Kunkinda asks, grabbing his notebook. “Dazai and I will make an opening, you grab the slabs and run.”
“But what about - “
Dazai laughs, twirling his gun before taking out two more of the groups men, “We need the goods out of here before we can leave. You do your job you’re helping us out of here sooner.”
Atsushi narrows his eyes and nods seriously, “Right. I got this.”
Three flash grenades make an appearance this time, Kunikida overcompensating for the group most likely expecting a secondary attack and Atsushi takes the opening. Bullets zing over his shoulders but he trusts them - trusts his these two with his life several times over - and doesn’t so much as wince as he vaults the crate and bolts for the slabs in the middle of the room, legs already transformed for the boost of speed.
They’re heavy - shit - really heavy. He wastes precious seconds transforming his arms but then he has them, both slabs against his chest as he makes a break for the exit - the door almost in reach -
A brutal force crashes into him sending him flying against the storage shelves. The sickening crack of stone splitting against concrete rings louder than the snap of his wrist as the shock sends his body back into human form.
“Atsushi!”
“Kid!”
The woman is standing in front of him, white kimono looking shifting to black as it billows around her feet. What kind of ability - ?
“You idiot,” She hisses and Atsushi can only agree, both stone slabs split in two across the floor. Useless - why is he so useless?
“I will make you regret this day,” She sneers, the kimono flickering like growing flames as it expands towards him, thick and unforgiving and he can’t help but stare as it rises up only to crash down -
“Shiryoku -!“
He gasps, bolting up in his seat.
Kunikida and Dazai both stare back at him, the car idling at a red light.
“Kid?” Kunikida prompts.
“What?” Atsushi stares back wide eyed.
“I believe that’s my line,” Dazai raises an eyebrow. “You okay?”
“No - we - what?”
“Again, we’re the ones asking you what’s going on.”
“No - we were at the warehouse. We were attacked.”
“Attacked?” Dazai hums in interest, Kunikida rolling his eyes at his partner and turning back to the road as the light flashes green. The white walkways and expensive clothes of Shiryoku reflect back at him from the window just as glittering as they had been a few hours ago.
“We were cornered and I tried to get the slabs out but then that woman she - “ His eyes widen and he looks down at his arm, the wrist looking normal and very much not broken like the snapping sound would have suggested. His healing ability is fast but even it usually takes some time with broken bones if he’s not fully transformed.
“Man Atsushi, you must be seriously loving the job if you’re already dreaming about work,” Dazai laughs and pats his shoulder lightly. “C’mon kid. No one gets the drop on us.”
People have and do - just seconds ago in fact but Atsushi has no proof other than his racing heart and has no choice but to go slack against the seat. What the hell just happened?
He glances back down at his wrist. He knows he heard a snap, felt the tell tale weakness as his hand went limp in response but his fingers flex pain free. He grits his teeth in frustration and fumbles with the cuff of his sleeve, desperate to see some sign of swelling or injury or anything-!
His breath catches in his throat, eyes locked on the purpling bruise on his skin. Not swollen and ugly from a broken bone but delicate and wrapped perfectly around the smallest part of his wrist. His mind flashes back to the burning of the boys ability, the feeling of his arms being dragged to the ground by some unknown force, wrists bound tightly, hard enough to … to bruise.
…
If Dazai and Kunikida notice his lack of interest in the background of the case they don’t mention it, too caught up in their own argument without him to chime in with questions when they pull up to the warehouse. He doesn’t care though, he has bruises on both his wrists from an ability he doesn’t understand and is somehow repeating the past two hours only he can remember.
He manages to hold out until Kunikida walks over to scold Dazai for not staying on track to make a break for the crate, not wanting to draw too much attention to how insane he feels right now. He has no idea what’s actually going on and admitting it out loud seems just a touch too close to making the insanity a reality.
He’d also have to admit how horribly he’d failed their mission and maybe a small part of him is grateful the other two don’t remember his constant mistakes. He’s been with the agency almost a year now and still has yet to properly prove himself. He knows they like him well enough and he’s been able to help out on some of the more … city destroying disasters but deep down he knows he’s never that far away from a move that might send him right back onto the street.
It would kill him. Not having Dazai’s ridiculous quips and proud grins looking back at him during a case, or Kunikida’s firm teaching when he takes on a new task and the big warm hand that always seems to rest on his back after a close call. Yasano dragging him along to her latest hole in the wall find, Junichiro and Naomi teaching him how to cook his very own Ochazuke, Kenji showing him around the city, Ranpo silently dropping a bag of candy on his desk on his birthday, Kyoka smiling over at him every day from her very own desk -
No. He will not disappoint them. He’ll do whatever it takes to give these people even just a silver of the care and kindness they’ve shown him this past year. He loves them and will protect them and the agency to the death, even if he’s just an average coworker in their eyes.
He pushes himself faster, not willing to waste anymore time as he heads for the black crate.
It’s sticking out from the shelf the same was before, the tarp half hanging off the side. He’s prepared this time though and yanks the tarp off, taking a step backward out of reach in case they boy tries to grab him again.
Nothing happens.
“Uh, hello?”
He frowns, waiting a moment but when no mysterious boy appears he sighs and leans over the side of the crate. He thinks maybe the kid just wants to jump out at him but instead of a curled up child ready to spring there’s only two stone slabs at the bottom of the crate.
What.
He stares for several long moments. Everything had been the same up until now, the car and the warehouse and even the crate was exactly how he found it the first time. Where the hell was the kid?
He tries to think back but even his memory is blurry. He’d been a bit too focused on those brown eyes and the hand gripping his shoulder to notice what he even looked like beyond a cursory glance.
“Shit,” He kicks the crate lightly - no way is he going to risk those slabs again - what the hell was he supposed to do now? He’s been marked by some power he doesn’t understand and now the user somehow disappeared despite everything else in this weird world telling him he should be right here.
“Your only priority is to protect the tablet - “
He swears, the words rushing through his head so violently it leaves it aching. Right, the boy had given him a mission. Lucky for both of them, Atsushi is planning on never letting the things anywhere near that asshole group again.
He leans down, fingers centimeters from touching the stone when he remembers his original excitement about the artifact and Kunikida’s comment on the rumors swirling around it. Time travel.
He hesitates for a moment longer before shaking his head with a laugh. Yeah right. Whatevers was going on had to do with the ability user, not some magic stone.
He makes quick work of the slabs, tucking them both safely under his transformed arms and kicks the crate back onto the shelf in line with the others. Hopefully that’ll be them a bit more time.
He makes it back to the middle of the warehouse just in time to see Dazai and Kunikida ducking behind the large crate and quickly joins them, silently kneeling down to watch as the mysterious group searches.
“We were just about to get worried,” Dazai grins without so much as glancing at him and Atsushi can’t help but grin back. This time won’t be like before, he’ll make them proud.
“I don’t recognize that woman and they’re not wearing any recognizable insignia, any idea what group they’re from” Kunikida asks.
Dazai shakes his head, “No clue. They’re most likely antique smugglers though, I’m sure they’re they have a buyer lined up so we’re going to need to work fast.”
“Uh, guys?” He interrupts, drawing both their gazes to him. He shrugs his shoulders, a tablet tucked under each arm.
There’s a lengthy pause.
“Hell yes, Atsushi!”
“Quiet you idiot! Kid, how did you even - ? Never mind, we’ll talk about it in the car.” A warm heavy hand pressed against his back, “Great work.”
Atsushi beams.
The ride back to the agency is filled with Kunikida quizzing him on how exactly he managed to find the slabs so fast and Dazai waxing poetic about the gorgeous woman in the white kimono and how if they’d had the chance to fight he could have definitely convinced her into a double suicide - she has that look Atsushi!
Atsushi just laughs, the slabs tucked carefully in the trunk and he can almost chalk up the first version of events as a dream and the bruises on his wrists no more than a strange injury.
Almost.
They arrive back at the agency and Kunikida explains that the slabs will be returning to their rightful owner after being stollen over a decade ago. “The owner heard a tip that they were being moved and called in a favor with the President,” He explains, fingers a blur as he quickly fills in the needed paperwork for the case.
“That’s good. I’m glad they’re going back where they belong,” Atsushi murmurs, thinking back to the brown eyed boy. How did he fit into this? “Is the owner local?”
“No, Mexican I believe.”
“Huh,” He chews his lip, considering distant relatives who might be local to the area or even a separated during a school trip but then Kenji is calling for his help filling a case and the day passes in a bit of a blur.
“I’ll look into the kid tomorrow,” is his last thought curled up on his futon before sleep over takes him.
…
“Shiryoku!” Dazai’s shout wakes him up but he doesn’t have time to get his bearings, tumbling sideways in his seat from the jolt of going abruptly from laying down to upright. “Man, this place never changes - Did I ever tell you I’ve been kicked out of most of the bars around here? I wonder if a lifetime ban is still in effect if there’s a change in ownership … “
He can just make out the reflection of white tiled walkways off the shop windows he can see from the floor of the car.
“Atsushi? Are you even listening? God, I remember a time when everyone was dying to know about what I got up to in my old position and now I’m literally boring Atsushi to sleep in the footwell,” Dazai whines.
“Seatbelt Atsushi,” Kunikida scolds. “It’s not safe to be crawling around back there while we’re driving.”
Atsushi stares up at the tan ceiling of the car and wonders why these things always seems to happen to him.
They get to the warehouse and he completely ignores any attempt at being subtle, making a beeline for the slabs before Dazai and Kunikida even make it to the first shelf. He’d done what the ability user had asked, he’d kept the slabs protected and brought them back to the agency safe and sound. Kunikida had even said they were going back to the original owner!
Unless of course the boy meant they weren’t supposed to leave the warehouse at all which definitely is going to be a conflict of interest considering the group trying to steal them and the fact Kunikida said they were being shipped out on the train tomorrow.
A growl works its way out of his throat in frustration and his muscles push harder, working out some of the tension he feels as he runs. Of course, the crate isn’t particularly far and the amount of momentum he’s built up works against him as he tries to stop, sending him crashing into the opposite shelf in a heap of shattered glass. He vaguely remembers a stack of hand painted porcelain serving trays nearby from the previous attempts.
He’d feel worse about it if it was like whatever he broke wasn’t going to magically put itself together again when he went to sleep. He sits up with a wince, looking down at himself to find a long shard of glass shallowly pierced through his side.
“Seriously?” He groans. It’s nothing more than an inconvenience compared to some of his other injuries but it still hurts and from the slow stitching of the skin back together it’ll take a bit to heal.
His wrists throb.
He frowns, pushing up his sleeves to check them over - dumb bruises still very much there - but the skin is aching. He definitely didn’t land on his hands so what the hell could be causing that?
He get’s an uneasy feeling as he stares at the delicate line of bruising, the dull ache slowly strengthening to a painful throb. He’s been sitting here for too long, he can hear the woman’s thugs making their way through the warehouse aisles nearby and soon it’ll be too late for him to sneak away to join Dazai and Kunikida without getting caught.
“Checking aisle 12,” He hears the crackle of an earpiece way too close and whips his head around to face the gun that’s surely going to pointed at his face -
“Shiryoku!” Dazai’s voice greets him instead, the soft cushion of Kunikida’s leather seats replacing the shattered glass underneath him. He drops his head down between his knees and tries not to scream.
Sleeping and injuries - what else could reset the day? Or rather half day, he always ends up back in the car on the way to the warehouse. He’d have to be extra careful now.
He darts into the warehouse as soon as they arrive but doesn’t sprint, having learned his lesson on trying to rush and he doesn’t particularly want to see how many times he can cheat death in this world. His only priority now is keeping the slabs safe and getting the gifted kid to let him out of here for a job well done. He guesses. Because he doesn’t exactly have a whole lot to go on and it’s not like the kid is showing up to offer any hints.
“Protect the tablets, protect the tablets - “ He murmurs to himself as he turns the corner and comes face to face with the black crate.
Which is what he does. Over and over again.
He delivers the slabs directly to the president himself - repeat. He sits with the slabs all night at the agency office but as soon as the clock hit midnight - repeat. He hides the slabs in different boxes to stop the mysterious group from finding them - repeat. He even has Dazai rub his hands all over them just in case and still - repeat.
He’s lost count of his attempts when he decides this whole thing might just be a little out of his league. He doesn’t know if waking up on the same day counts as some sort of rest but he hasn’t actually slept since this started and despite his body not being tired he feels like he’s breaking around the edges from exhaustion.
That makes it a little easier to jump out of the car when the world next resets.
It’s nothing nearly as dramatic as it feels, Kunikida always sitting at the red light when he opens his eyes at what he now calls the beginning of his day - it’s three in the afternoon. But despite how many times he’s done this he never differentiates from the path until they arrive at the warehouse, doing something different now feels a bit like sacrilege.
He can hear Kunikida and Dazia both calling after him - no doubt shocked by him making a break for it mid conversation and the thought makes him laugh as he blends himself into the crowd. From the few odd stares he receives he doubts it sounds as sane as he’d like to believe.
There’s only one person he wants to talk to and he has the phone ringing against his ear as he ducks in between two shops and leans against the brick wall between the dumpsters.
“What?”
Atsushi pulls in a shaky breath, “Hey Ranpo, are you -?”
“Yes, I’m in the middle of the case of the stolen KitKat bag that was just purchased this morning.”
“You, uh, haven’t solved it yet?”
“Of course I have, did you forget who you’re talking to? I’m now considering the best course of revenge. Tell me Atsushi, which would you least like to find in your desk drawer; slugs or centipedes?”
“Ranpo, I kind of need your - “
“Trick question, of course it would be slugs for you. You wince at them every time you spot one on the sidewalk though I believe generally the consensus in the office would fall under centipede -“
“Ranpo,” Atsushi’s voice breaks against his will and he does his best to keep it together. He isn’t trying to think of Ranpo as his last hope but from the way his fingers are nearly indenting the plastic of his phone they obviously didn’t get the memo. There must be something that sneaks past in his tone though because the usual ruffling of Ranpo’s multitasking stops.
“There’s a cafe across the street from you, I’ll be there in half an hour.”
He’s not exactly sure where to start but like most conversations with Ranpo, an introduction is hardly ever needed. The man takes one look at him from the doorway of the cafe before nearly skipping over to the table Atsushi had picked out near the back corner. “What the hell did you get mixed up in?”
“Uh … “ Does he really look that bad?
“This afternoon you left to do a post office run with Junichiro looking moderately refreshed from a lunch with Kenji. Those bags under your eyes are particularly deep considering they were non existent not even two hours ago.” He reaches out a hand and takes Atsushi’s, pushing up the sleeve to show the coiled bruising around his wrists still just as dark as when he received them. “these though, are particularly interesting.”
“They are?” He asks, and something sounding suspiciously like hope is in his tone. Has Ranpo seen this ability before?
“Yes, handcuffs don’t bruise like this. I’ve never seen anything that could make a mark perfectly rounded with the exact same amount of pressure applied to the entire wrist to create that uniform shade of purple. That means this was most likely caused by an ability. That combined with the exhaustion … “ He lets go of Atsushi’s hand and leans back in his chair, looking him over with a frown. “You’ve been caught in some sort of time displacement.”
Atsushi gapes, looking down at his wrists before back at Ranpo. He knows the man is amazing but even this is stretching his power of deduction, “How do my wrists tell you that?”
“They don’t. But i know for a fact Kunikida and Dazai would have been just driving down this street when you called me. I don’t see them anywhere around here and you haven’t once mentioned them or made any move to check your phone despite being on an active case. I think you abandoned them in order to have this conversation but what in the world would make Atsushi - the most loyal and kind hearted of us all - run from his masters and responsibility of a case?”
Atsushi shrugs weakly.
Ranpo holds up a single finger, “If you one - already knew what was going to happen and they would be safe.” He raises a second finger, “Or if you two - didn’t know but had some sort of reassurance there would be no serious risk.”
“Bit of both,” He murmurs, shoulders slumping in exhaustion.
“The exhaustion is a dead giveaway, I think you’ve been living more days than the rest of us.”
“Usually just extra hours but they tend to add up.”
Something flashes across Ranpo’s face he doesn’t quite recognize but it’s gone before he can try and decipher it. “Tell me everything from the beginning.”
…
“A time loop,” Ranpo explains an hour and several parfaits later. “you’re stuck in a time loop - and this is the first time you’ve told me?”
“First time I’ve told anyone,” He sighs, staring down at the water in front of him. He hasn’t felt hungry in days - or weeks it turns out from Ranpo’s estimation, he says he’s most likely been stuck like this for a little under two months.
“Why?”
Ranpo’s questions generally range from the sarcastic to the hypothetical so to hear him asking something so sincerely takes him back a bit. “I thought I knew enough to get out of it on my own and how exactly was I supposed to explain it and have people believe me?”
“By people you mean Dazai and Kunikida…” Ranpo frowns. “I suppose. I just find it a bit surprising, you aren’t one to shy away from using the strength of a team to tackle a problem and they’ve been there in front of you for each time,” He pauses, glancing back to Atsushi. “You’re ashamed of what happened in the first loop.”
“If I can get this right no one will remember it at all, so that’s one positive thing.”
“You do realize no one will hold it against you, right? Dazai and Kunikida were worried for you, not upset at you.”
“They should be able to rely on me, not have me being the cause of a gunfight in what was supposed to be a milk run!” His chest heaves at the outburst and he flushes, sinking back against his seat. He’s all words and no action, unable to find a way to even get out of the time loop let alone prove himself to Dazai and Kunikida.
“Well,” Ranpo drawls, “then lets get you out of here.”
Atsushi can only nod, unable to remember the last time he heard words so sweet. He trusts Ranpo, if anyone can get him out of this mess it’s him.
“His ability is called Death Comes for the Archbishop and it’s marked you with deep bruises that seem to be an invisible binding of some sort. You reset the loop every time you are badly injured, or break the tablet?”
“I dunno about the slab breaking, the time that happened the woman in the kimono killed me,”
“You said you appeared back in the car before she hit you, that you never felt the hit correct?”
Atsushi considers the memory, “Yeah, I guess I never felt it actually touch me.”
“You need to be sure on the details, that’s an important key to this,” Ranpo rubs his chin in consideration and that look is back on his face, the one Atsushi can’t for the life of him place or remember ever seeing before -
“Atsushi,”
He blinks, meeting Ranpo’s eyes across the table.
“I’ve never done a case before where I’ve been unable to follow through with the results. If I tell you my deductions that is all they will ever be for me. Simple guesses - very carefully considered ones with as much proof as one can gather from your account of the loops and my ability - but they’re still just guesses. I am almost ninety nine percent certain on the outcome of this… but that doesn’t make the one percent chance any less real.”
Atsushi frowns, “I trust you Ranpo.”
“But if I’m wrong about this I’ll forget this conversation and never know I was the one who told you to try …”
“Try what? What do you think I need to do to break the loop?”
Ranpo takes a deep breath, the darkness behind his gaze retreating somewhat as the facade of the detective slips back into place, “I believe the time loop is a defensive mechanism, not some kind of curse ability. The ability itself binds the victim into the loop to allow them to accomplish certain tasks no matter how long it might take. Your assignment is to protect the tablet like the boy requested but that’s simply the job, in order to actually break the time loop you need some sort of password to signify you’re ready to leave. The bruising on your wrists is what’s binding you here and after your injury they started to react, a warning to the victim that you’re about to be pulled out.”
“But I wasn’t pulled out, I just woke up at the start of the loop.”
“Correct, because if you just suffer a fatal injury you’ve most likely failed the task and need to start again. Death, however, would be very unlikely to be drawn out if it was by your own hand.”
“So you’re saying…”
“The only way to leave the time loop is by ending your life, signifying the competition of the mission. I’m sure there’s something poetic there about giving your life to the cause or some nonsense. Sounds to me like there’s a built in time limit to make sure you actually mean to leave the loop and that’s why the healing abilities of your gift have prevented you from exiting. I would wager it’s most likely around two minutes.”
Atsushi stares for a long moment, taking that in. “That’s it? I just have to die and I’ll be let go?”
“You’ll exit the loop. Sounds fairly simply but remember the time limit, your ability is going to be working against you here.”
“I almost die all the time - “ He laughs, a weight in his chest lifting. “I’m going to get out of here!”
“Atsushi,” Ranpo reminds him seriously. “You’re going to need to be methodical about this, it’s not going to be easy with Kunikida and Dazai over your shoulder, practically impossible actually they’re not going to let you go -
Atsushi is barely listening though, too caught up in the feeling of hope that he thought had long since left him. His entire life people have been telling him he’d be better off dead and it’s not like he still doesn’t consider the possibility of who’s lives would improve if he just disappeared (everyone). He’s prepared for this.
He hugs Ranpo tightly when it’s time to go- he won’t even remember this so what’s the harm - but to his surprise the detective wraps an arm around his back and gives him a firm squeeze. “You need to survive this,” He says seriously, that look once again heavy in his gaze and if Atsushi didn’t know any better he’d want to call it fear. It’s gone as fast as it came though, a sly smirk back in place as he claps him once on the back, “you’ll need to give future me a play by play on everything I just told you and how perfectly I predicted it!”
“I’ll remember,” He promises with a grin.
“Oh and Atsushi,” Ranpo says as he pulls back on his hat, “try trusting us."
…
Atsushi learns what Ranpo meant about it not being easy very quickly during his next loop.
He’s excited, practically drunk on the thrill of getting to go to sleep in his own bed and actually wake up in it - getting to see Kyoka sleepily fumbling around with her cereal and walking to work with Naomi and Junichiro, his normal boring routine now something he wishes for so desperately it actually hurts.
He decides to play it safe and keep the slabs in the warehouse, making quick work of them with his now preferred method. It takes just moments at this point to swap them out in a crate filled with exotic animal pelts and push the original crate back onto the shelf, the shock foam filled with large porcelain platters he once shattered to conceal something had been taken.
He returns to Dazai and Kunikida just in time for the woman in the kimono to start getting antsy with the lack of results. It’s the same story every time she can’t find them, she yells at her men for several minutes, her men then find the three of them instead of the slabs, and regardless of slabs or not all hell breaks lose in a gunfight Kunikida flash grenades them out of with Dazai picking taking out anyone who manages to aim their gun in their direction.
It’s a solid plan, one that’s worked well every time with no one physically worse for wear.
It’s so predictable that Atsushi knows exactly what’s coming when the three of them rush forward to the next crate for cover. A bullet always zips over his shoulder, the sound making his ears ring and his head duck on instinct but instead of keeping low he raises his head higher.
The fight may be predictable at this point but Kunikida is not. Sometimes Atsushi forgets just how honed the man’s instincts are because never before has he even glanced Atsushi’s way as they make their way over to the crates but as soon as he shifts upward Kunikida’s eyes are on him.
He hears the telltale zip but Kunikida is faster, pushing his body into Atsushi so fast he nearly gets whiplash, smacking down onto the concrete hard enough to make him see stars.
He’s wet.
There’s something wet on his face and only getting wetter. Hot and sticky and the air suddenly has that sickly metallic smell to it -
“Kunikida!”
Dazai. Except it doesn’t sound like Dazai because Dazai doesn’t scream like that. Doesn’t sound like his words are being forced out of his throat like a dying breath.
Atsushi can’t make sense of all this strangeness. Doesn’t want to.
But he has no choice because Kunikida shifts, rolling off of him and to the side and now he can see the crimson staining both of them and pooling damp and sticky on the floor. Everything rushes back into focus and now Atsushi’s the one screaming as he presses his hand desperately against Kunikida’s neck to try and stop the bleeding, the bullet have ripped right through the artery.
He hears gunfire but he doesn’t care, Kunikida’s hand is cold - warm it’s supposed to be warm, it’s always so warm - when it weakly reaches up to press against his. “You’re alright, kid?”
Atsushi is not.
“Why would you -?” He breaks off, tears of falling down his face and he can’t stop these anymore than he can this damn loop. “I’m not worth this!”
He’s angry he realizes, he’s so very angry because Kunikida is worth a thousand Atsushi’s and Atsushi should be taking bullets for him not the other way around.
“Kid,” Kunikida repeats and Atsushi has no right to feel this warm or this comforted or whatever this burning is in his chest that threatens to overtake him at the weight and meaning behind that word.
The gunshots seem louder now and he abruptly realizes they’re out in the open, having never made it to proper cover because of Atsushi’s death wish. Neither of them have any extra bullet holes though and he only now notices there seems to be a lot more blood pooling on the ground than just one man can produce.
Dazai stands over the woman in the white kimono, her power nullified, and doesn’t even give her a moment to speak before putting a bullet between her eyes. The ground is littered with corpses, all of them gunned down with the intent to kill and while Atsushi knows Dazai was a member of the port mafia, actually seeing their signature style in motion is another thing entirely.
Dazai is there then, the warehouse empty of anything living except the three of them.
“Dazai,” Kunikida scolds, managing to sound harsh even with his voice barely more than a whisper.
“Don’t.” Dazai grips onto Kunikida’s free hand, his other going to the collar of his vest and yanking slightly. “You don’t get to do this - not you too.”
Atsushi looks down at the ground, intruding on something private and as much as Kunikida had been kind he’s too much of a coward to meet Dazai’s gaze. He already knows what he’ll find there and he doesn’t know if he’ll be able to survive that kind of complete rejection.
Kunikida’s hand goes limp in his at the same time Dazai starts trembling, leaning down on his arms against his partners chest as if the pressure can wake the dead.
“I’m so sorry,” Atsushi manages to get out, voice raw from both the screaming and tears. “It should have been me, I wish it was me!”
He’s not talking about the time loop.
Dazai’s trembling stops and he sits back up on his knees before reaching out and grabbing Atsushi’s chin roughly, his grip bruising as he turns his face up from the ground to meet his black eyes, “Don’t you dare say that,” He hisses.
A sob breaks through his chest and all he can do his nod weakly, ashamed at even daring to compare his own death to something like this.
Dazai turns back to the body and Atsushi runs.
He doesn’t dare try and even injure himself in order to restart the loop, not willing to take the chance of it actually freeing him and this loop being the hell he’s stuck living inside of. He curls up in an alley in some strange part of town he’s never been to and tries not to think about the news the rest of the agency is receiving right now.
…
Atsushi opens his eyes to the backseat of Kunikida’s car with both him and Dazai arguing in front of him and promptly lets out a sob before scrambling for the door and managing to get half his body out just in time to vomit all over the white sparkling tiles.
Yosano has a name for when Kunikda and Dazai get like this - she calls it playing house.
“Look,” She’d coo if she were here, “It’s Mommy- “ she’d wrap an arm around Kunikida, “And Daddy,” then an arm around Dazai, “And Baby,” and end it with a kiss to Atsushi’s forehead.
Kunikida had pulled the car off as soon as he’d managed to stop spitting out his lunch - lunch he can’t even remember eating anymore - and now he’s settled on a bench by some sort of massive water feature with Dazai fussing over his face and hair while Kunikida looks up drugstores on his phone.
“He’s hot,” Dazai tuts, pressing a cool hand against his forehead and the touch is so welcome against the black gaze that still burns into him when he closes his eyes he can’t help but lean into the touch.
“We have a case,” He argues because as much as going back to the warehouse is the last thing he wants to do right now he does’t want them to think he’s trying to drag them away from a job.
“We’re just snagging an antique, it’ll still be there in a few hours,” Kunikida says idly, brow furrowed as he reads over the yelp reviews for the different drugstores.
The slabs will be long gone in a few hours but after everything he can’t bring himself to try and push them back to the warehouse when Dazai is humoring him with touch and Kunikida’s voice is soothing and familiar and very much alive as he hovers nearby. They’re already ten minutes off schedule and knowing Kunikida he’s most likely reworked a completely new timeline for them to adhere to.
“Anti nausea and something for the fever - maybe a juice too he’ll need to rehydrate,” Kunikida murmurs as Dazai leans over to inspect the options.
“I’m hungry too, maybe you should bring us all something to eat,” Dazai points at a little sandwich shop next to one of the drugstores. “Please, Kuniiiii-Kida.”
“I’m going to get medical supplies, don’t leave him on his own,” Kunikida says instead, pressing a pointed finger against Dazai’s chest that has him gasping in betrayal.
Atsushi watches his long strides as he disappears down the street, unable to shake away the sight of pooling blood and cold hands that flash across his mind.
“Are you cold?” Dazai frowns, a hand pressing down on his shoulder and he realizes he’s trembling.
He shakes his head, thinking back to the heavy gaze Kunikida had pinned him with and the soft ‘Kid,’ that had been his last words to him. No one has ever told Atsushi they love him before but even someone as unfamiliar with the emotion as he is can feel the meaning behind the word. He doesn’t quite know what to do with the information, unable to even fathom that Kunikida could possibly feel that way about him - a useless orphan rat. That still doesn’t stop the warm bubbly feeling in his chest.
A weight is suddenly on his shoulders and he glances up from the ground to see the familiar tan trench coat now wrapped around him. “Seriously, how long have you been sick?”
“I - I haven’t felt well since the car ride,” He murmurs, as honest as he can be.
“You need to say something, we aren’t going to drag you into a case when you look like you might drop at any moment,” Dazai frowns, eyes lingering on the dark circles Atsushi knows are under his eyes and the slack paleness to his face.
“I’m just tired, looks worse than it is.”
“Mm,” Dazai comments, his face unreadable. “Did something happen with Kunikida?”
His heart jumps into his throat. “What -? why would you -? no -! ”
Dazai grins slyly, “So something did happen then. You keep looking at him like he might up and disappear.”
Atsushi shrugs, eyes dropping back to the ground.
“You might not want to talk about it but I wouldn’t recommend letting whatever this is fester,” Dazai says casually and when Atsushi sneaks a glance he’s leaning back on his hands, eyes up toward the sky. “Kunikida is very good listener - if you can manage to get him to shut up.”
“I-”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean,” Kunikida asks, dropping down on the bench on the other side of Atsushi and pressing a sports drink into his hands.
“Exactly what I said, I meant it as a compliment. You impress even me with how many sentences you can get out between breaths.”
“And here I thought I might be generous…” Kunikda pulls out a sandwich from his bag and Dazai’s eyes widen in joy.
“Kunikida! You angel!” He sings, a hand pressed against his chest.
Kunikida scoffs and tosses the sandwich over to him, Dazai catching it and ravenously unwrapping the paper to take a large bite, moaning happily. “So good!”
“Here, Kid.”
A sandwich is pressed into his hands along with a bottle of pain reliever. “Try and eat some of that first then take a pill, I’d rather we didn’t have a repeat of earlier if you start to feel nauseous again.” His tone is firm but the hand that moves to rest on his back is affectionate. He wonders how much of the conversation Kunikida heard.
He will get out of here, even if just so he can continue having moments like this with the three of them that might someday burn away the image of Kunikida’s bloody body and Dazai’s broken stare.
…
He’s not going to risk Kunikida again so getting shot in the warehouse is out of the question. He decides to widen his gaze slightly, just to be safe. He still needs to go to the warehouse because regardless of Ranpo’s theory he still has a job to do as a member of the agency he’s going to make sure those slabs don’t fall into the wrong hands.
He does his now usual method of switching out the crates as quickly as possible before considering his options. There’s a fire exit a few aisles down and he manages to sneak past the few men already searching the shelves to make a break for the outside.
The door opens to the train track side of the warehouse but it’s mostly quiet, no one around to hear the gunshots that will be flooding the air soon. While deserted, the train station is still relatively close to town and it’s only a half mile walk until he’s back around the bustle of people and shops. Luxury cars zoom past on the road as he walks, whipping his shirt around his stomach and earning a few curious stares from passersby with how oddly he seems to stand out. He ignores them though, too focused on his task at hand.
He considers his options as he walks. He refuses to hurt anyone else in the process of his death and the idea of trying to get someone to help sits weirdly in his stomach. He knows how uncomfortable it makes people when Dazai requests their help and he doesn’t want to do that to anyone even on the off chance they say yes.
That narrows him down to deaths he can do himself on top of them having to be strong enough to kill him. His healing ability is mostly unconscious but perhaps with enough force he can will it to not activate? Stupid idea, he’ll just need to find something that’ll kill him quick.
He stares around the quiet road, willing something relatively dangerous to appear. He really didn’t think finding a way to die would be this frustrating considering how regular an occurrence it has been this year.
He can see a relatively tall bank in the distance so he keeps walking, deciding he might have to be a little more traditional than he’d originally thought since apparently everything in his life has to be just out of reach.
No one so much as blinks at him when he walks through the lobby, his agency suit giving him the advantage of blending in with the rest of the business men and women despite his age. It’s almost a bit sad how easy it is to slip past the security camera for the emergency stairwell.
It’s a ten story climb but he doesn’t mind it, too preoccupied with his ability and if it’ll stop him from leaving the loop once again. He doesn’t always transform when in danger and he’s fallen quite a few times without the tiger making an appearance. He hopes if he keeps his mind clear it’ll be a quick drop to the bottom and then -
and then what?
He hasn’t really thought about that part. He’ll die but then what happens? Does his body somehow heal itself and he gets to walk away? Does the loop restart for a final time?
Does the loop break but he stays dead?
He grips tighter to the hand railing but even if death is the only thing waiting for him, he’d rather that than being forced to live this nightmare on repeat. He’s not going to trap his family in an infinity of repeats they can’t remember just because he’s too afraid to take the fall. Literally.
The door to the roof only has a bolt lock which he snaps easily, pushing it open and is almost blinded by the evening sunset reflecting off the ocean. It’s stunning and he can’t help but thing it’s not a bad thing to see right before jumping.
There’s a slight ledge to the roof but nothing to prevent him from doing the job and he quickly scrambles up onto it. He doesn’t bother with taking off his shoes since he’s hoping to be able to walk out of this after the fall.
It’s a stunning view, the shopping distract seeming almost on fire from the reflection of the sun off the white buildings. He can see the train warehouse in the distance and he hopes Kunikida and Dazai are doing okay - which is dumb, of course they are. He’s not there to mess things up.
Atsushi takes a deep breath and steps off the edge.
He doesn’t focus on the fall, not wanting to instinctively transform out of fear. Instead he forces himself to think of the agency - his family. To think of Dazai and Kunikida alive and arguing with everyone back at the office and the slabs safe and maybe even himself getting to walk through the door after breaking the loop.
He’s concentrating so hard that it takes him several seconds to realize he’s not falling anymore.
He hasn’t hit the ground either, the sidewalk looking perfect and very much not splattered with a body from where’s he’s floating less than a foot away from it.
Floating.
He get’s a sinking feeling in his stomach, glancing around the crowd that’s now gasping and pointing around him and sure enough there’s a familiar mafioso across the street looking absolutely lived.
As soon as their eyes meet the force holding him up - gravity he supposes - lets him down and he tumbles to the sidewalk in a heap.
“Are you okay?”
“Someone call an ambulance!”
“Hey - Sir? Can you hear me?”
There are voices and a few hands touching him but Atsushi ignores them, not knowing whether to be embarrassed or angry at his failed jump but hides his face all the time.
“Outta the way - move!” A familiar voice this time followed by a gloved hand yanking him up off the sidewalk and quickly down the street before tossing him roughly into a side alley.
“So,” Chuuya says, his casual tone forced judging by the razor sharp edge to his mouth. “You’re Dazai’s kid, right? You wanna tell me why the fuck I just watched you jump off that building?”
Atsushi has had only a few run ins with Chuuya - it would be impossible not to with Dazai as his mentor - but he’s been under the impression his presence is mostly a shadow compared to the explosive way the two of them go at each other. Chuuya hates the agency and their brief meetings would have made it clear that Atsushi is nothing more than an extension of that. So that of course begs that question- “Why’d you stop me?”
Chuuya scoffs, “You seriously want to die? You take after that asshole so much you want to copy his suicides?”
“This has nothing to do with Dazai, you shouldn’t have stopped me.”
“Oh yeah, I should have just watched you splatter onto the sidewalk like a blood bag and then gone along with my day.” He shoves a finger into Atsushi’s chest. “You that fucking selfish? You think I want to see that?”
Atsushi grits his teeth and drops his gaze, shrugging his shoulders. He might make a comment about the Port Mafia’s past with him but the tentative cease fire between both sides has made any mafia members besides Akutagawa attempting to kill him a rarity and certainly never on official orders. He’s also always liked Chuuya and the no nonsense way he handles Dazai and assignments from what he’s seen and it feels unfair to challenge that yes, he’d like to see an acquaintance kill himself.
“No. I’m sorry,” he apologizes and it feels weak to his own ears.
Chuuya sighs, obviously agreeing and probably ready to get back to whatever Port Mafia business has him wandering around this part of the city.
“I’m calling Dazai.”
Wait - what?
Atsushi gaps, staring up at the man from where he’s still sprawled on the ground. “No - please Chuuya, he doesn’t need to be involved in this.”
Chuuya ignores him, turning away to lean against the brick wall. At this point it’s been over a few hours since he left the warehouse but maybe Dazai is still too busy to answer and he’ll be spared the humiliation.
“Hey, It’s me,” Chuuya huffs into the phone.
Atsushi lets his head thunk back against the dumpster in defeat.
“What the hell are you so busy doing? I don’t fucking care - listen I found your little ward or whatever you’re calling him about to make himself into a pancake in front of the central bank building.” There’s a long pause, Chuuya’s eyes flickering over to him but the anger now seems to be replaced with confusion.
“I dunno, I was in the middle of a job when I saw him standing on the ledge. How longs he been missing?”
Guilt burns on Atsushi’s cheeks and he curls in on himself, embarrassed to have made this much of a nuisance of himself to involve both the agency and the Port Mafia. He pushes himself back against the dumpster and the sharp sting of glass pinches against his legs. He winces and looks down, shards of amber glass and a half broken beer bottle littering the ground.
Chuuya is frowning into the phone, too focused on whatever Dazai is telling him and his gaze somewhere on the road. “Nah, I have him. We’re across from the post office on Fifth street, how long till you’ll be here?”
Atsushi doesn’t even think, just takes the bottle and stabs the sharp edges into his side, forcing his mouth to stay closed and his gaze to remain steady in case Chuuya looks his way. He won’t die in time to break the loop but he’d rather not have to try and stumble his way through an excuse as to why he abandoned Kunikida and Dazai mid case to try and jump off a bank.
He drops the bottle and rolls it underneath the dumpster, adjusting his shirt to hide the wound and laying his hands back on his lap as Chuuya looks back over his way. He takes him in for a moment and Atsushi’s sure he’s been found out when Chuuya moves the phone away from his mouth. “You want to talk to him?”
He shakes his head.
Chuuya nods and presses it back to his mouth, “Hurry it up asshole,” He says as goodbye, flipping the phone shut.
There’s a long moment of silence, Atsushi expecting Chuuya to go keep watch at the mouth of the alley. Instead, he gracefully sits down next to him.
The surprise must show on his face because Chuuya shrugs and leans his arms back behind him. “Dazai says he thought you’d been snatched. How the hell did you end up here if you were in the middle of a job?”
“I walked.”
Chuuya raises an eyebrow, taking that in before sighing. “Look kid- Atsushi right? I’m not an expert at this kind of shit but maybe you should talk to Dazai. No good will ever come from doing what you were trying to.”
“I’ll … try,” He says because what else he supposed to do? Explain that hopefully a whole lot of good will come if he can manage to kill himself? Chuuya is reaching out to him with kindness as Atsushi is as confused as he is touched.
“Anyway, I’m sure Dazai will have a lot more to say on that - hypocrite that he is - so I don’t want to nag you. Just listen to the people that care about you, okay?”
Atsushi nods and a silence stretches between them just a few minutes too long to be comfortable, the backside of his shirt now soaked in blood.
“Uh so - “ Chuuya runs a finger over the bridge of his hat. “I hear you like to cook?”
Atsushi blinks in surprise, nodding slightly. “Yeah, well - it’s more trying to cook. I’m not very good at it or anything but I used to barely know how to work a rice cooker so I’ve been trying to learn some basic stuff.”
He’d been planning on trying to do a pork cutlet for his bento tomorrow, the meat having been on sale at the supermarket. Now it’s just sitting in his fridge, over two months old but continuously refreshed with each loop. Will he ever even get to cook it?
“I saw a picture of the onigiri you made, they looked pretty good.”
He must be staring because Chuuya clears his throat again, “Dazai sent me some pictures, he was real proud. No idea why he sent them to me of all people but yeah, they looked half way decent.”
Atsushi had made so many rice balls that night and had taken in a dozen of the best for inspection at work the next morning, letting the office gather around to see his work. Dazai had praised the entire collection and took several photos on his phone, even having Atsushi pose with his lunch box in his hands. It was completely embarrassing even if he’d been nearly glowing with pride the rest of the day. Chuuya must have been the recipient and Atsushi feels his face heat.
“Sorry, he can get a little carried away sometimes,” He apologizes, and is it just him or are his words slurring slightly? Chuuya doesn’t seem to notice.
“Like I said, they were decent. If that bastard is going to send me pictures at least it’s of stuff worth looking at.”
Atsushi smiles but his mouth feels heavy, “Thanks, Chuuya. For talking to me.”
“Well yeah that’s - whoa, kid you don’t look so good.” He can feel hands on his shoulders and then fingers searching for a pulse but his vision is already going dark. “Kid- Atsushi hey, Dazai is going to be here soon you need to hang on - “
…
Atsushi walks in the opposite direction when he sneaks out the emergency exit this time. Chuuya had been an unexpected surprise and he’d rather limit the risk of the Mafioso finding him a second time since his loyalty to Dazai apparently still has enough strings attached to save his mentee.
That and Atsushi is a bit surprised to hear just how much Dazai shares about him, or that Chuuya even choses to remember.
Wanting to avoid any potential roadblocks he decides to head for the docks instead of the city, figuring there might be a quick death somewhere in all the heavy machinery and poorly secured shipping containers.
It’s about as empty as the one across town near the agency, barely any workers to navigate around as he makes his way in and out of containers. He’s searching through a few leftover tool chests for something sharp when he hears it;
“Weretiger,”
“You have got to be kidding me,” Atsushi murmurs under his breath. Dazai had said something about doing business here in the past but did that really mean the entire Port Mafia was in this corner of Yokohama all at once?
“You’re a long way from home, this part of the city doesn’t cater to penniless detectives.”
“I’m here on a job,” He huffs, dumping the tool chest out onto the ground but nothing looks particularly promising. “So do me a favor and go away.”
“You’re on Port Mafia turf actually, and it’s my duty to take care of intruders.” A flash of black cuts across his cheek, blood dripping down his face as Rashomon hovers in the air next to his head in a clear threat.
This dance with Akutagawa is as familiar as breathing, the two constantly at odds no matter what the current relationship of their respective organizations. The crackle of power between them is as addicting as it is destructive and Atsushi can’t stop being drawn to the man like a moth to a wildfire.
His body moves out of habit, leaping forward to miss the next cutting blade that cracks into the concrete where he previously stood.
“Come on Weretiger, I thought you had grown stronger!” Akutagawa calls.
Another attack of razor sharp blades and he’s forced to move closer to miss, twisting his body and launching toward Akutugawa whose eyes brighten with the thrill of the fight.
They crash into each other, a flutter of limbs as his strength pushes against the armored arm Akutagawa uses to knock him off balance. Rashomon nearly bites off his leg when he breaks free of the grip and it’s only then he realizes his best chance at escaping the loop might have come to him.
Rashomon rises up and predictably curls straight for his arms, a familiar move meant to pin him to the ground. Instead, Atsushi twists and lets the blades cut clean through his chest.
He screams.
It’s one thing to be stabbed but an entirely different situation to be impaled. Four perfect spikes are imbedded in his torso and he can vaguely see his chest trembling as it tries to take in air. Pain rakes insistent and icy up his spine, making his vision blur and limbs weak until all he can feel is the beat of his pulse around each gaping wound.
“Atsushi!”
He doesn’t recognize the voice at first because he’s never heard it say his name before.
He blinks through the hot tears in his eyes, not even ashamed at crying because at this point he just wants to be dead. Akutagawa is holding him upright, hands trembling where they dig into his skin and staring wide eyed at his chest. “You idiot! What the hell was that!”
Fingers are prodding at his skin which is ridiculous because what’s Akutagawa going to do? Triage him? Even from a glance he can tell at least two of the spikes are through his lungs and as long as he doesn’t force a transformation there’s no way he’ll be able to heal fast enough to survive.
“You always dodge to the left, always - I knew you saw what was coming - why didn’t you dodge?” Akutagawa is mumbling, his hands cool as they expertly touch over his chest. “I can’t remove Rashomon without you bleeding out on me, they’ll have to stay for now.”
Atsushi coughs blood in response and grins a little at the irony.
Akutagawa’s face sets into something dark and Atsushi’s pretty sure this is what his victims must see before they die. But then he reaches down and rips a strip from his perfectly pressed shirt and Atsushi is obviously hallucinating. Except maybe not because there’s a steady pressure against the widest of the wounds, hands helping to stem the bleeding and Atsushi can’t help but feel betrayed. Out of everyone who could have helped him end this he’d trusted Akutagawa to finish the job.
“I don’t like sparring people with a death wish, Weretiger.” Akutugawa hisses, hands pressing punishingly deep on his chest. “and I can’t help but feel you walked straight onto my blade.”
Is he really this predictable?
“Regardless, I hope you are well aware that no one dies by my hand unless I say so and I know I have given you no such permission. You are not allowed to die, Atsushi,” Akutugawa growls.
He seems to be right because even through the haze of pain Atsushi can see the soft glow of his ability beginning to heal the wounds. As if Akutugawa’s anger has simply willed it into existence despite all of his stubborn planning.
“No-“ He chokes raggedly, words difficult around the blood in his mouth and the small amount of air he can even gasp. “Don’t- please Akutugawa.”
“Please?” Akutugawa snarls, “Please what? Please allow you to die? I will do no such thing. When I finally kill you it will be a triumph of superiority not you giving up on me.”
Atsushi thinks that’s a pretty specific requirement for his death considering how often Akutugawa tries to fight him but the tug on his wrists is now too strong to to feel anything but disappointment. Atsushi is used to a world hating him but now even his supposed rival is trying to force his survival. Of course it’s when he needs death that it evades him.
…
He’s getting desperate now, leaving the warehouse seems stupid considering how he’s gotten caught by the two least likely people to help him. Who knows who else might show up at this point. Instead, he focuses on the Agency when they return with the slabs but even that ends disastrously.
Yasano walks in on him downing an impressively sour cocktail of nearly all the medications he could get his hands on in her cabinets. Her ability is activated before he can even get out an excuse and spends the next five minutes guilty letting her hug him as she quietly explains her own struggles with mental health and how they’ll help him through this and god Atsushi what would we even do if you left us -
Junichiro jumps in right after him when he tries to drown himself off the docks, Naomi holding his hand so tightly when he’s dragged out like a wet dog he knows it would bruise the next morning if those existed for him anymore. Junichiro cries when he untangles the remains of the wire wrapped around his leg he’d used to attach the cinderblock to hold him down.
Kenji tackles him to the road and covers his body when he walks into oncoming traffic. Kyoka see’s something in his face and won’t leave him alone when he gets home in the evenings, hugging him tight without saying anything. Hell, even Katai sends him a text message once asking why he’s googling suicide methods and that he’s already texted Kunikida who’s on his way over.
Ranpo catches him trying to shoot himself before he’s even able to pick up a weapon. He’s eyeing Dazai’s gun he’s left haphazardly on his desk for less than half a second when the detective walks over, picks up the gun, and pointedly pockets it while giving Atsushi an unimpressed stare.
“Let’s go talk to the president.”
There’s nothing for Atsushi to stab himself with this time so he’s forced to go sit in the President’s office while Ranpo gives a brief explanation of what he caught him doing and it’s all so irritating considering Ranpo was the one to even tell him to do this-
“Atsushi,” The president says softly and somehow he’d missed when the man had walked out from behind his desk since he’s now kneeling down in front of him looking so serious and concerned and not mad at all.
“I’m sorry,” He says because that’s all he’s been saying lately and he really means it he just doesn’t really know what for yet.
“Let us help you,” The President says soft and firm like he’s stating a fact instead of offering a hand. Like Atsushi will always have their help regardless of if he asks for it or not and that goes against nearly everything he’s ever been taught. Although, after the past few weeks of the agency always stopping him from walking over the edge a small part of him can’t help but think that maybe he’s telling the truth. Maybe he’s not nearly as useless to them as he’s believed if they’re dead set on saving him.
…
“Shiryoku!” Dazai announces, just as passionately as he has every day for the past - what are they on now? Month four? “Man, this place never changes - Did I ever tell you I’ve been kicked out of most of the bars around here -“
“Dazai,” He interrupts, “Do you have a pair of handcuffs on you?”
“Kinky Atsushi but I’ve already told you, I’m not interested in anyone who’s not willing to plunge into the abyss with me.”
He laughs a bit too long for what’s not even really a joke to the two of them but it doesn’t matter, he’s hoping to break the loop today and then he can tell them.
“Well, I head about this old folk tale and I thought maybe you’d want to try it?” He lies, bullshit dripping off his tongue. He’s not usually that great at making up stories on the spot like this but he’s got infinite tries in case this one doesn’t take.
“Involving handcuffs?”
“Yeah- well I think it’s rope in the story but basically two people who desperately want something tie their hands together and then all the desperation from one supposedly transfers to the other, giving them good luck with whatever they’re trying to accomplish,” He grins, hoping to cover up the desperation in his eyes. “If you have the most pure intentions then you get all the luck.”
“Hmm, I suppose a little bit of luck would be useful considering how unlucky my other attempts have been… I’ve never heard this tale before, who told you about it?”
“Uh, Naomi. She said she’s heard it’s used to increase your romantic chances but it can be with other things too. I-I’m kinda really hoping for something to happen but I haven’t been very lucky so far… and you’re the luckiest person I know so I thought you’d be the best person to ask.” The nerves in his voice make it shake and he hopes it helps his flimsy excuse sound somewhat normal.
Dazai laughs, lounging back in his seat. “We can try it when we get back to the agency.”
“Well I was hoping we could - “
“We’re on a job Atsushi, going in one handed even on a milk run is asking for trouble. We might need those tiger arms at a moments notice,” Dazai explains with a wink before leaning forward to fiddle with the radio station. Atsushi searches for the knife in the agency bag.
…
“Can I see your handcuffs?” He asks Dazai, snatching them out of his hands before the man can ask why.
He recites the same story again, giving Dazai the same pleading tale of good luck only this time he doesn’t ask before wrapping the chain once around both their wrists and cuffing their hands together.
“Uh, Atsushi? We’re on a job?” Dazai laughs, holding up their chained hands and dragging Atsushi’s arm up with him.
“I know but more time for the luck to sink in, right? I kinda need it for today. Plus Kunikida said we could!” He explains, playing his trump card.
“I did not say that you brat - do not put words in my mouth! It’s completely childish for you two to walk around the warehouse with your hands chained together like a two bit magic trick,” He growls, hands tightening around the wheel.
Dazai’s eyes widen dramatically and he grips at Atsushi’s arm, “Kunikida you wouldn’t dare separate my darling Atsushi from me in his time of need! We’re fated to go through this journey together - we’re brothers in arms on this path of luck!”
Kunikida looks like he wants to bash his head into the wheel. “We’re trying to set a good example for the agency.”
“You said yourself, this is a simple milk run! We can do it with both arms tied even, come here Atsushi - “ Dazai reaches out like he’s going to try and tie Atsushi to his other hand which makes Kunikida start yelling even louder much to Dazai’s delight.
Atsushi just grins from the backseat, covertly eyeing where Dazai sets the handcuff key in the cupholders between the seats.
Getting out of the car is awkward but it ends up working in his favor when he’s forced to climb over the seats to get out the front door, purposely brushing over the cupholders to make sure the key falls between the seats on his way out.
He’s wrapped the chain tight around both their wrists, nervous about being able to touch skin because of how high up Dazai’s bandages went. Now their hands and wrists press against each other as they walk, the cuff allowing no room for extra movement. Dazai hasn’t said anything and Atsushi is just desperate to figure out a quick way to die before the end of the day he doesn’t particularly care what it feels like. He’s spent so much time trying to figure out how to get Dazai in this situation and now that he actually has a full proof way to stop his healing he’s a bit hesitant. He isn’t going to take any risks with Dazai like Kunikida, they’re both going to survive today.
He tugs Dazai down the proper aisle, the man having no choice but to follow him even as he’s shooting off suggestions on where they look first.
“Wow,” He says when they come across the black crate sitting in the aisle. “Looks like someone was in a hurry.”
Atsushi nods, doing his best to be someone seeing something so mysterious for the first time and not like this damn crate has become the axis of his entire existence.
“Slabs are here… “ Dazai frowns. “Why would someone open this up and not take the artifact? Something else is going on here.”
He laughs weakly, “Maybe they realized the slabs are a lot more trouble than they’re worth.”
“Maybe. I dunno if Kunikida told you but there are rumors these things have some sort of supernatural ability.” He reaches down and picks up one of the stones. “They say they can create ripples in time.” His eyes linger for a long moment on the engraving before laughing and dropping it back into the crate. “If you believe such things, of course. Come on, lets get them back to the car.”
Atsushi glares daggers in the stone slab Dazai hands him to carry.
Instead of meeting Kunikida hiding behind a crate they find him being held at gunpoint when they return to the entryway, Dazai scowling as he presses Atsushi down behind it anyway only to remember they’re handcuffed together and can’t leave him there.
“Fuck,” He swears, glaring at his wrist. “This is going to be an issue but there’s no time for it. We need to distract them long enough for Kunikida to - “
Whatever Kunikida is going to do Atsushi doesn’t hear it because the rest of the thieves turn the corner and then they’re being escorted to join him.
“I thought you knew the plan for something like this,” Kunikida grumbles as they kneel down next to him in the middle of the room.
“Handcuffs have definitely put a dampener on my plan, perhaps you were onto something about not wearing them,” Dazai says pleasantly as their captors hand the slabs to the woman in the white kimono.
“I thought we managed to beat you here but perhaps that was a bit presumptuous of me. After all, I’ve heard quite the stories of the feats you people pull at the Armed Detective Agency,” The woman smiles, all teeth as she delicately fans her face.
“You have us at a disadvantage,” Dazai says pleasantly. “In more ways then one.”
“True, those handcuffs are an interesting battle tactic. However, I can’t say I see the purpose.”
“Wouldn’t make it much of a tactic if you could predict all our movements.”
The woman laughs, and perhaps the cuffs put her at ease or how easily they were captured but she seems genuinely entertained compared to their previous captures. “I’ll be honest, as a humble thieves guild we have little use for such complicated matters. We generally deal in stealth but I knew it would be a race against your agency and was forced to come prepared with a bit more fire power.”
“It’s nice to hear we’re so famous, I’m flattered you think so highly of us. Or maybe fear is the better word?” Dazai raises an eyebrow and the woman’s fan clacks hard against her hand.
“We do not fear anyone, I believe you misunderstand. Perhaps a better example of our methods will give you an idea of just what you’ve found yourself up against,” She smiles darkly, her kimono once again starting to billow and shift black.
“Now!” Kunikida calls, a flash grenade going off and Dazai grabs his cuffed hand to drag him to the nearest crate for cover as the gunfire starts.
This is familiar, habit almost by this point with how many times he’s been in this shoot out. Except Dazai is now chained to him and his balance is off center which is the only reason he can give for why he accidentally trips over his own feet and face plants forward in the middle of their run for cover, pulling Dazai down with him.
“Sorry- I’m sorry -!” He stutters, scrambling to get to his feet as Dazai pulls out his gun and picks off nearby thieves with his left hand. Even in the chaos Atsushi can’t help but be impressed with just how skilled his mentor is.
He leans his body up to try and slowly stand together but a hail of bullets interrupt him, turning his chest into Swiss cheese with a round of deafening shots. His white shirt is already soaked, blood dripping to the floor as he staggers and it’s a very different thing to plan your death opposed to accidentally stumbling into it.
He’s scared for a freezing moment, the pain and the surprise overriding all his other senses and the terror must be plastered all over his face because Dazai makes a strained sound and grabs him, pulling him roughly down against his chest. The arm pressing suffocatingly against him means safety and his thoughts clear as he remembers that right, he’s been trying to get to this point for longer than he wants to remember.
There’s more gunfire, only this time it’s followed by screaming and bodies hitting the ground rather than retreating and he closes his eyes tight, refusing to remember the sight of Kunikida bleeding out when this happened last time.
“Atsushi,” Dazai says, his hand tugging with increasing desperation against the handcuff. “We need to get that cuff off you, you’re bleeding out.”
His tone is calm despite the ice in his eyes as he takes out some of the stranglers before dropping his gaze down to where Atsushi is sprawled in his lap, head lolling on his shoulder. “Keep your eyes open.”
Atsushi closes them.
“Kid-“ He feels a second pair of hands on him, Kunikida pressing in from behind to shield him, hands gently assessing the wounds on his chest and honestly if death really is permanent in order to break the loop he can’t think of another way he’d want to go then having Kunikida and Dazai by his side. He feels safe.
“Make another key!” Dazai orders Kunikida, another shot going off from somewhere to their left and the deadweight of a body following soon after. Atsushi freezes - fuck he forgot about Kunikida’s gift.
Kunikida immediately digs into his jacket for his notebook before freezing, eyes wide as they meet Dazai’s over Atsushi’s head. “I never saw it.”
There’s a heavy tension in the air.
“We have a different set, I never saw your key,” Kunikida says, eyes wide as he stares at Atsushi’s bloody body in disbelief. “I can’t make a key.”
Dazai drops his gun, the warehouse once again silent except for the three of them, and takes up Atsushi’s cuffed hand to tug at the chain for weaknesses. “I left it in the car, go.”
Kunikida is gone then, sprinting out of the warehouse and Atsushi can only hope he doesn’t make it back in time.
“Atsushi, you have to work with me here, move your hand away from mine,” Dazai says, voice strained with something desperate as he tries to move his hand against the cuff far enough away to not touch any part of his skin. He’s unsuccessful though because that had been the whole point.
“Hey!”
He blinks, Dazai’s hands suddenly on his face, his own arm hanging limply next to his head as the older man grips him tightly, fingers bruising against his skin.“You’re not even fighting! I’m going to get you out of here but I need you to fight for me, Atsushi!”
He’s too tired. His body hurts. He hasn’t felt pain like this since the orphanage. He wants this damed day to end.
“Atsushi,” Dazai snarls, “Everything good I’ve ever had has been taken from me but if you think I’m going to lose you like this you’ve got another thing coming. Fight damn it!”
Atsushi can’t and Dazai must see it because his expression changes, desperation morphing into acceptance as his grip tightens around his body. “You’re going to be fine,” He says softly with such certainty that Atsushi opens his eyes in confusion.
Dazai pulls out the knife from inside his jacket, his face deceptively calm as he raises it high before swinging it down in one powerful slice. Blood splatters thick and warm across Atsushi’s face and his cuffed hand falls heavily into his lap.
…
Atsushi screams as soon as he’s back in the car again, scrubbing desperately at phantom blood on his face. He can still see the bloody stub of Dazai’s dominant hand -
Hands are on him again and they’re warm and familiar but he can’t - he just can’t do this anymore!
He passes out.
He wakes up minutes later to his head pillowed on Dazai’s lap who’s sitting in the backseat with him and Kunikida on the phone with Yasano as he takes his pulse.
“I’m fine,” He mumbles weakly but makes no move to get up. Kunikida flicks his ear in a silent ‘shut up, brat” as he listens to whatever Yasano is telling him.
“Gave us quite the scare, people don’t usually scream and pass out mid conversation you know?”
He nods tiredly, meeting Dazai’s easy gaze so different from the eyes he’d looked into just moment before.
Let us help you.
The President’s words are loud in his head and he’d thought he was doing just that recruiting Dazai in to cancel out his ability but maybe he’s had it wrong this entire time. While Atsushi’s tried to do everything on his own the agency (and occasionally the mafia) have been there no matter what he tried. Maybe he’s not as alone in this as he’s always been told he is.
Dazai cut off his hand for him, the least he can do is be honest back.
“I need to tell you guys something,” He murmurs when Kunikida hangs up the phone. He sits up slowly and turns so he can see both of them, Kunikida leaning against the seat from the driver side and Dazai in front of him in the backseat.
“Would that be why you were screaming and your pulse is so elevated?” Kunikida asks.
Atsushi nods and takes a deep breath, remembering protective hands and warm words drowning out the insistent voice of the headmaster that no one will ever love him. He can do this.
“I’ll try at least. I don’t really know how to explain this but I’m stuck in a time loop.”
He gets two blank looks back.
“I know it sounds crazy but I’ve relived this day more times than I can even count. The first time I got hit by some crazy ability when I found the slabs and now I just keep repeating it over and over. Ranpo says it’s because I have to die which I’ve been trying to do but it’s like the universe is out to get me because for the first time in my life that seems impossible.”
“You’ve been trying to die?” Kunikida stares at him, fingers digging into car cushion. “Atsushi I don’t know what kind of prank this is but if Dazai has put you up this - “
“He hasn’t - I swear! I can tell you everything that happens at the warehouse. Where the slabs are, the group that’s going to come and try and steal them, how long the shoot out will last if we get captured - “
“Wait, what do you mean there’s a group trying to steal the slabs?” Dazai frowns. “We have private intel on them being there.”
“I don’t know how they found out, they barely say anything before we end up fighting.”
“Alright, so you’ve been reliving today and doing this job on repeat?” Dazai asks. “Don’t look at me like that Kunikidia, way crazier things happen to us all the time. Give him the benefit of the doubt.”
Kunikida doesn’t look completely convinced but nods with a sigh, “Go on, Atsushi,”
Atsushi nods, “Well, I always protect the slabs but after that I sort of just find a way to try and end it. That’s my problem though, I can’t.”
“You can’t die?”
“More like no one will let me, every time I try I’m interrupted or something horrible happens so I thought if I told you…”
“You thought we’d help you kill yourself?” Dazai frowns, leaning back against the window as he considers it.
Kunikida’s face tightens and he shakes his head, “Absolutely not, this whole idea is ridiculous to begin with anyway we’re not going to let you die over some insane hallucination.”
“Easy enough to prove if he’s telling the truth though,” Dazai points out. “If we go to the warehouse and everything like he says then we’ll know he really has lived through it.”
“We won’t know if dying is going to help him though,” Kunikida growls.
“I’ve died almost every time, don’t worry about that,” Atsushi waves off. “I need to do it under a time limit though and because of my ability I can’t quite make it under two minutes.”
Kunikida and Dazai both stare at him for a moment, neither looking particularly comforted by that.
“Well, what have we done before?” Dazai asks.
“What do you mean?” He frowns, “You want to know how I tried to die?”
“No, I mean what have the three of us done so we can know what didn’t work.”
“Oh,” He frowns, “Uh, I’ve never told you guys before.”
Dazai’s mouth thins and he’s quiet for a long moment before turning back to Kunikida, “Let’s go then, we don’t want to throw off when we arrive by too much or else we won’t be able to confirm the time loop.”
…
They make it to the warehouse in enough time for Atsushi to show them the slabs exactly where he said they were. “Black crate, it’s halfway off the shelf and has a tarp thrown on top of it. There’s a stack of porcelain plates right across the aisle.” He tells them as they walk.
A quick inspection confirms what he said and then the armed thieves are moving in.
“I don’t know a lot about them, just that the woman in the kimono is their leader and she has some sort of offensive ability that uses her clothes,” He explains as they crouch down behind the crate with the slabs. “Usually we just sneak out at this point.”
“Sounds like a good plan to me,” Dazai grins and they make it out of the warehouse without any issue. It feels almost too easy, like this is a trick, but he forces himself to trust himself and the others that they’ll be able to break this.
“So,” Dazai says as he shuts the slabs in the trunk. “We really are in a time loop then. What’s the craziest thing that’s happened?”
“You cut off your own hand,” The words are out before he can stop them and he winces.
Kunikida glances over at Dazai from where he’s leaning against the driver’s door, “I imagine your insanity knows no bounds in a situation like this.”
“Aw, that’s almost a compliment,” He grins before turning back to Atsushi, “Did the wannabe art thieves make me do it?”
“No,” He murmurs, following them into the car. “I… I tricked you.”
“Tricked me?”
“You tricked Dazai?”
The two look back at him in surprise before Dazai pouts and crosses his arms, “You’re abusing your time loop powers for evil if you’re tricking me into cutting off limbs, Atsushi. We can’t all just grow them back.”
“I know,” He murmurs, voice thick as the car starts and they pull away from the nightmare that is the warehouse. “I kept getting saved before I could die or my ability healed me too fast and I was desperate. I tricked you into letting me handcuff us together.”
As soon as the words are out realization flickers in Dazai’s eyes, “And then you tried to get yourself killed.”
Atsushi nods at his lap.
Kunikida sighs heavily, “It’s hard for me to put something like your life on the line with so little information but Dazai and I aren’t going to let you live through something like that again, you understand Atsushi?” He asks, meeting his gaze in the review mirror.
His tone is scolding but Atsushi can now recognize it for what it really is and smiles weakly back, “Yeah, I do.”
They end up parking the car by the docks, far enough away for no one to notice any strange noises and Atsushi sighs in relief when the car stops.
“Um, do you have a preference for this?” He asks them awkwardly, having no idea how Dazai has the guts to just offer up a joint death to every random person he meets.
Kunikida turns off the car and rubs a hand to his temple, “I understand something is going on here but is this really the only option? It feel it’s a bit extreme considering our only proof is you confirming details about the job. Is that really enough to…”
“We believe you, it’s just a bit of a jump from accepting you’ve been reliving a day to then having to kill you to let you out,” Dazai laughs but his voice has an edge to it.
“So what will happen then?” Kunikida asks, “You die and then you’ll what? The day will restart a final time? You’ll wake up tomorrow?”
“I don’t know,” He admits. “I … I don’t know that I will wake up.”
He watches as Kunikida’s fingers dent the seat, “That’s unacceptable.”
“There’s no need to leap to any conclusions if we don’t have concrete proof yet,” Dazai reasons. “tell us again tomorrow and we can go talk to Ranpo and see what he thinks.”
“No.”
They both turn and look at him.
“I’m not doing this another day,” He murmurs. “I know it’s scary to you but you don’t understand, every single day for the past four months I open my eyes in this car going to the same place where the same exact thing happens. No matter what I try or what I do I can’t escape and if I change anything - for better or for worse - everyone forgets.” He looks up to meet both their gazes, “But I remember. I remember every single thing that’s happened and it’s killing me. If I’m stuck here any longer I don’t know how much of me is even going to be left.”
“Atsushi-“
“You guys still don’t get it. I’ve seen your dead body Kunikida - I watched you take a bullet for me and bleed out right in front of us. Dazai - Dazai hated me for it! I’ve been stabbed and shot and impaled and everything you can think of and it’s never good enough! Even when I think I’m finally free of it Dazai goes and cuts off his hand. I’m never going to be able to get out of here unless you guys help me. I’m not scared of dying because at least it would be something different!”
He huffs a breath, fisting his hands on his lap as he does his best not to break down. “You guys are stuck in this with me too, I’m just the only one who remembers. Don’t you want to see tomorrow?”
“I’m not personally that invested if it means there’ll be a casualty to get there,” Dazai murmurs.
Kunikida sighs, looking at Atsushi for a long moment. “So you’re willing to accept the high probability you die and the world rights itself?”
“Yes,” He says without hesitation. “Absolutely.”
“This goes against everything I believe in… but I promised we’re not going to let him suffer through this anymore,” He murmurs to Dazai who’s gaze is stuck somewhere along Atsushi’s shoulder. He nods minutely.
“Please,” Atsushi begs, knowing if Dazai doesn’t agree Kunikida won’t go through with it on his own.
“No one’s ever begged me so nicely to kill them before,” Dazai laughs darkly but sits up, slipping off his tan trench coat and throwing it over into the front seat. “C’mere, kid.”
He sighs in relief and moves forward to sit closer but Dazai pulls him in, opening his legs so Atsushi can sit between them, his back pressed against Dazai’s chest.
Kunikida hesitates before stepping out of the car and coming around to the back, opening up the door and sliding into the seat across from them.
“I know this makes you uncomfortable, you don’t have to watch,” He says honestly despite how much the idea of Kunikida leaving hurts.
“I’m not going to leave you, brat.” He grumbles, settling his long legs with one crossed on the seat and the other in the footwell.
Dazai reaches into his holster and pulls out his gun, the safety still on as he passes it into Atsushi’s hands. “Don’t ask us to do this part for you.”
“No, of course not,” He murmurs, staring down at the familiar gun. All this time he’s been so desperate to escape the loop he’s never really thought about the odds of him surviving or not. Either way it’s a relief but now with Dazai and Kunikida watching expectantly he can’t help but wish a little bittersweetly that he gets to wake up.
A hand brushes through his hair then settles back around his waist, Dazai’s grip almost punishing as he holds him against his chest. Kunikida seems conflicted before huffing a sigh and reaching out to grip tightly to Atsushi’s free hand, “We’re going to see you tomorrow,” He says firmly.
Atsushi nods even though he knows a goodbye when he sees one. He raises up the gun to his head and flicks the safety off, pressing it into his hair.
Dazai tuts and gently guides his hand lower, the muzzle pressing cold against his temple. “You won’t even feel anything,” He promises, lips brushing against his hair.
Kunikida’s hand is trembling in his despite the strong grip and Dazai’s arm tightens even more if that’s possible. He watches the doubt grow in Kunikida’s gaze and feel’s Dazai take a deep breath as if to argue -
He pulls the trigger.
…
He blinks awake to the sound of birds chirping. The sunrise is filtering in through the window, it’s rays nearly blinding him as they fall across his face.
“Morning,” Yosano greets in a whisper as she reaches down to check his pulse.
He’s about to ask if he’s somehow lost his hearing when he catches the rest of the room. Kunikida and Dazai lay asleep on chairs on either side of his hospital bed, Kyoka curled up on top of the blanket at his side. Kenji has somehow made a bed for himself out of sheets on the floor and Junichiro and Naomi are cuddled up on the second bed in the room. Even Ranpo snores fast asleep in a chair leaned up against the window.
“The President was here too but he had an early morning meeting. Your pulse was strong at that point so I forced him out of here, can’t have the entire agency falling to pieces just because our favorite member is out of commission,” She smiles but Atsushi can see the deep bruising under her eyes from too late a night.
“What happened?” He asks quietly.
“Dazai and Kunikida rushed you to me yesterday evening with a self inflicted bullet wound to the head. You flatlined and I called your time of death,” She says softly, running a hand through Atsushi’s hair.
“I’m -
“They explained what happened, about time loops and you being stuck in the middle of one. The President called the original owner the plates are being returned to who explained the ability connected to them and that you were telling the truth. Apparently there’s no record of anyone coming out alive though,” She explains tensely.
“Then how -“
“Let’s just say we were pretty busy planning a funeral when you up and took a breath at midnight and about scared all of us half to death,” She huffs. “I have no clue how it works because you were very much dead but non of us are going to question it too hard.”
Atsushi sighs in relief and leans back against the pillows, he’d done it. He’d broken the loop and made it to tomorrow.
“Thanks Yosano,” He murmurs tiredly. God he wants to sleep for a month.
“Don’t thank me yet, you’re going to have a lot of upset visitors to answer to. And since you’re in perfect health for some mysterious reason I have no medical issue with them attacking you,” She winks. “Family can be the worst.”
Atsushi stares out at the room filled with everyone he loves - his family - and nods, grinning softly. He can't wait.