Chapter Text
Atsushi didn’t understand how he got there.
Well, he knew in theory the sequence of events that led him to that point: the three men, coming in the dead of night, dragging him away from his tattered futon and restraining him. One spoke in hushed whispers about money, around eight million yen, and…a tiger? A deal, sealed with a handshake, and the men herding him out of the orphanage, the place he hated, the place he grew up, the only home he knew, without even so much as a glance farewell from the Headmaster. The chains, the muzzle, the confusion, until they brought him here, set him on a stage, and left him feeling like prey to the sharks in the audience. They called him powerful, vicious. Deadly. He had no idea what they were talking about, but no one was willing to answer his questions. Two guards grabbed onto him to keep him still as the numbers kept climbing. Fifty million yen. One hundred million. Two hundred million. The sheer amount made him dizzy; he’d never thought he’d see that much money in his entire life span, let alone have someone pay that much for him. Why? Why him? There was nothing about him that special, so why were they treating him like there was?
Just when they seemed about to settle on five hundred million yen, a calm, yet authoritative voice piped up from the back of the room:
“One billion yen.”
A hush immediately fell over the room. Atsushi paled. One. Billion. Yen. He didn’t even know that such wealth existed. He strained his eyes, trying to find the source of the offer, but under the harsh lights and the darkness of the audience, it was impossible.
“One billion yen…going once, twice, three times…sold to the man with the bandages!” Atsushi was suddenly dragged off the stage by the two guards, but he didn’t bother struggling. His brain was spinning, the world was tilting on his axis, his life changed with those three words.
He was sold on the black market. For a billion yen. And he still didn’t know why, but he could guess that it wasn’t out of the goodness of one’s heart.
He was forced into a private room backstage, with a singular couch on which he was deposited. The chains behind him rattled as he tried, once again, to loosen them even a little. They didn’t give.
He sat there for a few minutes, with only the silent guards as company (not like he could have spoken to them anyway, because, well, muzzle), but it still felt much too uncomfortable. He fidgeted as much as his limited movement would allow before the door opened and a man walked in.
Atsushi may not have seen him before, but he didn’t need to in order to know that this was the man who bought him. He was tall and skinny, with white bandages peaking out from underneath his black suit. A coat hung over his shoulders, almost like a cape, giving him a ‘larger than life’ appearance. Half his face was obstructed with bandages as well, leaving only a single, dead eye that stared at him, bearing into his soul. He couldn’t help the instinctive shudder when the eye landed on him.
“You can go,” the man said to the guards. They glanced at each other, before one opened his mouth to speak, but the man in bandages cut him off. “That wasn’t a suggestion.” His tone was cold, calm, demanding obedience. The men nodded and shuffled quickly out of the room; they were evidently as terrified of the man as Atsushi was.
The man waited until the door shut completely before turning his gaze back to Atsushi, his footsteps echoing throughout the room as he calmly approached him. In spite of his terror, Atsushi found himself curious as to what the man was going to say. What did he want from him? Why did he spend so much money on him? What was going on?
“Hello,” greeted the man politely, stopping in front of him. He smiled, though it didn’t reach his eye, and he kneeled down so that they were on a similar level. When his hands started to reach out, Atsushi flinched.
“Can I remove your muzzle?” asked the man. It wasn’t kind per se, but there was no malice in his tone. His hands paused directly in front of Atsushi’s face so he could see everything they were doing, which Atsushi found himself appreciating. Slowly, almost imperceptibly, he nodded. The corners of the man’s mouth ticked upwards, and his hands continued on their path towards the back of his head, undoing each strap until finally removing the contraption from his face. He could have cried in relief.
“Th-thank you,” he croaked, his voice raw from the lack of use.
“Yes, well, it’ll be much easier to talk without this ugly thing in the way. Can you tell me your name?”
Atsushi bit his lip. He was still wary of the man who had ‘bought him’, even if he was kind enough to remove the muzzle from his face. It wasn’t like he owed him anything.
The man read his apprehensive gaze and sighed. “I should have figured. Let’s try it this way—we’ll do an exchange, one piece of information for another. I’ll go first; my name is Osamu Dazai. And yours?”
After a moment’s hesitation, he replied. “Atsushi Nakajima.”
The man—Dazai—smiled, once again without meeting his eye. “Pleasure to meet you, Atsushi.” He rose, dusting off his spotless coat, and sat down beside the boy. The proximity made Atsushi naturally attempt to shy away, but Dazai didn’t pay it any mind.
“Alright, let’s keep going.” He tucked his hands behind his head, as if he were relaxing at a beach. “I’m eighteen years old.”
Eighteen? That young? Now that he mentioned it, Atsushi did notice a certain youthfulness to his cheeks, his features too young to really be considered a man. But his expression was so…cold, so lacking in vibrancy, that he naturally assumed he was older.
Noticing that Dazai was still waiting for him expectantly, he shook the thoughts from his mind for the moment. “Fourteen.”
“Really?” The burnet’s eyebrow raised ever so slightly in surprise. “I would have thought you were younger…” He shrugged. “So much the better. Now, Atsushi, if I take off those shackles of yours, can you give me your word you won’t try to run? They look rather uncomfortable, but I don’t want to make a decision we’re both going to regret.” There was a slight edge to his voice, a threat neatly hidden in the words. The hairs on the back of Atsushi’s neck stood up in fear. However…if they were going to do this anyway, his arms really were aching . He nodded.
“Your word , Atsushi.”
Atsushi winced. “I won’t try to run.”
“Good.” Dazai nodded approvingly, before upholding his end of the bargain. As soon as Atsushi heard a click and the chains binding his arms slid away, he rubbed his sore wrists that were more red than flesh-colored.
“Let’s get down to business,” said Dazai as he disposed of the chains. “Do you understand what’s happening here?”
“I have absolutely no idea,” Atsushi admitted, staring down at his now-freed hands. “I understand that I was sold from my orphanage and brought here. I know this is some kind of human trafficking ring or something. I know there was an auction, and then you bought me.” He couldn’t help the slight hint of resentment that peeked in at the last part, not at Dazai specifically, but for the fact that he could be bought in the first place.
“Yes, I did,” Dazai agreed, thankfully ignoring the accusation in his tone. “Do you know why that is? What makes you so valuable?”
Atsushi shook his head. “I don’t know…they keep calling me ‘tiger,’ like I’m some sort of deadly animal, but I don’t…I don’t understand…”
“Hmmm, how do I put this?” Dazai tapped his lips thoughtfully. “Have you ever heard of special abilities?”
“Special abilities?” He racked his brain. “I’ve heard stories at the orphanage occasionally, but I always thought they’re urban legends.”
“They’re real.” There wasn’t an ounce of doubt in Dazai’s tone. “While not well known, many individuals possess them, sometimes unbeknownst to the user themselves. You, for example—” Here, Dazai directed all his attention to Atsushi, and he had to force himself not to cower under its intensity— “turn into a tiger under the moonlight.”
Atsushi opened his mouth. No words came out. A million thoughts ran through his mind, so fast he couldn’t make any of them out. “You’re lying,” he protested, but even he didn’t believe himself. It was wrong—so, so very wrong, but—
A tiny part of his brain was telling him that it was right.
“Think about it,” Dazai continued, as if Atsushi wasn’t having an existential crisis right in front of him, “From what I heard, your orphanage treated you quite poorly, singling you out specifically. They even locked you up at specific times, didn’t they?”
“No!” Atsushi shook his head. “No no no no no no —”
“They called you a monster, did they not?”
“They…”
He’s just a monster!
Lock him up before he hurts anyone else!
No one could ever love something like that!
He had always thought there was just something about him, something invisible crawling under skin that set him apart from the other kids at the orphanage, from the other human beings of this world. Like some invisible stamp on his forehead that declared him worthless at birth. All this time, they were right. He was just a beast after all.
“Well apparently, they weren’t able to contain you one night, or they lost track of the moon cycles. Regardless, you went on a little joy run, and your transformation was witnessed by a civilian. A civilian with connections to the black market. He returned later with some friends and gave the director of your orphanage an ultimatum—allow them to buy you off him, or else they’d go to the Military Police and report that he was harboring an illegal beast. Or worse—the Special Division for Unusual Powers. Who knows the amount of trouble the orphanage could have landed in if that were to be the case.” He paused to let the words sink in, which was helpful, because there was so much information swirling around Atsushi’s brain. Eventually, his mind settled enough to ask a question.
“What would have happened to me if they did?” he inquired.
“Who’s to say? They would have taken you away, obviously. Maybe transfer you to a facility for containment or even experimentation, if you were enough interest to them. Or perhaps they would have deemed you too dangerous to keep alive and have shot you dead.”
“Shoot me dead?!” he squeaked. Although, the other options didn’t sound too appealing either…
“It’s possible. I suppose we’ll never know, because the director understood the threat seriously enough. So they graciously took him off his hands, and here you are. Though it seems they too weren’t without their difficulties.” He glanced at him meaningfully.
“What do you mean?”
“Did you ever wonder why they put so much effort into restraining you, using heavyweight chains and a muzzle, as opposed to simple rope and cloth? Especially for a boy of your constitution.” Dazai gestured to Atsushi’s thin frame, a by-product from years of abuse and malnourishment. Atsushi swallowed bile, his stomach churning with the scraps of stale bread they had fed him earlier. Everything Dazai was saying made sense. He remembered waking up one day—over a week ago, at that point—sleeping in the cage with no memory of how he got there. Usually, he was aware when they were locking him up, but the night prior, he had gone to sleep along with the other kids. More strange, the Headmaster said nothing to him, merely giving him a hard stare which he had no idea how to interpret. And then a few days later, he was taken without warning or explanation. He had assumed the extremities they took to restrain him was natural, something he deserved just for being Atsushi, but in hindsight, it wasn’t very logical.
“But I don’t understand,” he said after a moment. “Why would anyone want me? What good is a, a monster , to anyone?” Layers of pain and loneliness shrouded his words, betraying the real question behind them, one which would require delicacy to answer.
Delicate, however, was not a word that described Dazai. “To use you,” he stated unfeelingly. As if he were simply discussing the weather. “A power like yours could do severe damage, and it would be an invaluable asset for many illegal groups. Of course, I doubt they’d have an easier time controlling you, and you’d probably have lived out the rest of your days chained in a cage, only to be released for your ability.”
Atsushi trembled. He couldn’t, no, he wouldn’t live in a cage forever. That would be a fate worse than death.
He glanced up at Dazai. “So…you bought me to save me from them?”
To his surprise and minor indignation, Dazai laughed, a mirthless sound that was devoid of any warmth. “No. No, I’m not that virtuous. That part may be a happy coincidence for you, but I had more selfish intentions.”
Atsushi scowled. “So what’s even the point of this?! If you’re also just going to use me, then why bother—”
“That’s where you’re wrong,” Dazai interrupted sharply. Atsushi quieted. “I came here because I felt you have potential , and frankly, letting you rot away in a cage would be a waste.”
Atsushi eyed him wearily. “Potential?”
“Atsushi.” Dazai suddenly turned to face him, causing the boy to shiver under the intensity of his stare. “How do you feel about joining the Port Mafia?”
The air escaped Atsushi’s lungs. Being isolated for most of his life left him ignorant of most things in the outside world, but even he had heard bits and pieces about the infamous group. It was much, much bigger than a simple illegal gang; they were the Rulers of the Underworld, a ruthless organization that crushed anyone who opposed them. He had caught a few of his captors murmuring about them out of fear—he could only imagine what sort of group would leave a human trafficking ring shaking in their boots. Now that he thought about it, he even recalled them mentioning something about Abilities, but he assumed they meant the word in its basic meaning. Regardless, they clearly weren’t people someone should want anything to do with.
With the sudden realization that Dazai was still waiting for a response, and that this man was significantly more dangerous than he had originally assumed, Atsushi swallowed the lump in his throat. “Y-you want m-me to join…the P-p-ort M-mafia?”
Dazai smirked, as if he found his reaction amusing. “I do. You see, Atsushi, as an executive, I’m allowed to train new subordinates under me, and I happen to currently be in need of a new one. An apprentice, so to speak. If you agree to join, I can help you control your ability, to rule over it instead of it ruling over you.”
Atsushi didn’t reply.
Noting his hesitancy, Dazai continued. “The world isn’t very kind to people like us. Many other ability users get shunned or exploited for their powers, never to find acceptance in society. Don’t you want a place where you could finally belong?”
He did. He wanted it so badly it hurt—everything always hurt. The sharp words, the loneliness, always feeling different and alienated from everyone else and never knowing why . But was he really willing to sell his soul so that it could find peace?
“Just one question,” Atsushi finally said, his voice low. “What would happen if I were to refuse?”
“Hm.” Dazai tilted his head and pondered for a moment, as if he hadn’t considered the possibility. “Well, this auction house does allow returns up to 24-hours. I suppose I’ll just get back my money and leave you to your fate. You’ll probably be sold to a different group by morning.” The implication of what the other group would be like lingered in his words.
Atsushi balled his fists. “So I don’t really have a choice, do I?”
Dazai glanced at him and shrugged with careful indifference. “You can decide whatever you want.” Though they both knew what the boy would choose.
“Alright,” Atsushi agreed reluctantly, his voice so quiet he could barely hear it himself. “I’ll join the Port Mafia and become your apprentice.”
“Wonderful!” Dazai clapped, startling Atsushi, and he stood up with another grin that didn’t feel real. “Follow me.”
Atsushi rose on shaky legs, and Dazai placed a firm hand on his shoulder, guiding him through the door and out an exit in the back. Two guards stood by the exit, nodding when they saw Dazai, and a black car was waiting by the curb. He couldn’t explain it, but the hand on him felt possessive somehow, like despite what Dazai had said earlier, he was asserting his ownership over him. Dazai opened the door and pushed him in, gesturing for him to move over to the seat on the opposite side, and he slid inside the car after him. There was some sort of finality to the way he slammed the door shut, like it was the last nail in his coffin being hammered in.
“I should warn you,” said Dazai as the car drove away, “that unlike that place, there are no take-backs on this deal. You gave your word to join the Port Mafia, and you can’t rescind it.” His voice was almost bored, like he was stating an obvious fact of the world.
“Understood,” Atsushi mumbled, seeing that Dazai was waiting for his response. He turned away from the man and glanced at the window, where all he could see were small stars breaking apart the lonely darkness.
Somehow, despite the fact that he was no longer in chains, he felt just as shackled as before.