Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

"Ooone."

All the children in the park looked at each other, silently communicating with one another as they made their individual plans of attack.

"Twooo."

The boys and girls scattered, all running in different directions. 

"Threeee. Fooour. Fiiive."

A few tripped and tumbled up the incline to the hill where the basketball court set up top. A line of trees separated the playground and the community court.

"Sssix. Ssseven."

Behind him he heard the giggles of a couple girls hiding in one of the slides, their legs splayed and feet acting as anchors in the metal tube. The boy was more focused on the lisp the seeker had on the s.

"Eeeight. Niinnne. Tennn."

A head popped up from off the trunk of the blooming sakura tree, pink petals stuck in silver hair strands. Sunset eyes are quick on the uptake, finding the dark-haired boy who did not bother to hide first. Which was fair because he sat on top of one of the metal archways that held the playground equipment together, an open book in his small hands even if he was more focused on the game he wasn't playing than the story he was reading.

Somehow the seeker's eyes both brightened and narrowed, tiny legs carrying him over to the older boy. His movements were more akin to waddling.

"Aku, you're supposed to be hiding."

The boy sounded exasperated, and that tone made thin lips curl at the corners. The Jinko was upset with him, yes, but the pout on his face made it all worth it. He covered his mouth, coughing behind his hand.

"I told you I wouldn't be joining this farce weretiger."

The pout deepened, the younger boy's bottom lip jutting out and wobbling. If he didn't know any better he'd think the kid was about to cry.

"I have a name y'know? It's Atsushi, Atsushi Nakajima!"

The dark-haired boy gave a noncommittal hum, ideally turning his page in the book to drive the point he was not listening and did not care home. Atsushi had corrected him on this matter a countless number of times, but he might as well have been talking to a brick wall for all the good it did him.

"Whatever you say, Jinko."

Tiny hands with too much baby fat balled into fists, and tiny fat cheeks puffed up. The silver-haired boy went a bit red in the face, and he couldn't help but mentally remark how it made his cheeks look like ripe apples.

The boy stormed off in some nondescript direction, bringing his attention back to the game they were playing rather than the infuriating boy with black hair. It's not his fault the split-eyed child had a black streak permanently in his hair. It was a bit odd seeing something like that. Atsushi's hair was already a silver unnatural for a child his age, but the black stripe made for an even more bizarre combination. That along with his monstrous appetite and barbaric eating habits. Really the boy made it too easy for Akutagawa to mess with him.

Ryuunosuke Akutagawa age six, and Atsushi Nakajima age four. Two unlikely friends separated by different backgrounds, grades, and varying interests. Atsushi the more personable and friendly of the two, Ryuunosuke the more introverted and closed-off one. Against all odds they just worked. Their parents were close, their father worked together, two big-shot lawyers who went out on their own and opened their own practice. That relationship went as deep as the one he and Atsushi cultivated, they were childhood friends too if he understood correctly. He was rarely ever wrong. Their mothers also went out on what they referred to as " dates" with each other from time to time, but he didn't understand how two married women could be dating.

This meant when the silver-haired male was born they'd been paired together from the very beginning. Somewhere existed pictures of a little Akutagawa holding a swaddled baby Nakajima. If he had anything to say about it those photos wouldn't last for long. One day, he swore he'd burn them all. At first, they hated each other, tugging hair, rolling around on the ground in what their parents considered "roughhousing."

Once he even convinced an impressionable Atsushi to have a mock sword fight with him, collecting decently sized sticks from the garden to jab one another with. All he wanted was to stab the boy over and over again. Through it all his unlikely friend remained his usual cheerful self, always going out of his way to involve the dark-haired male in playtime even when the other children shied away from him. Akutagawa Ryuunosuke who never smiles, Akutagawa Ryuunosuke with the permit scowl, Akutagawa Ryuunosuke who had an illness that kept him from physically exerting himself too much. Poor sickly Akutagawa Ryuunosuke. He wondered if the others were afraid of him, or just didn't want to have to deal with his parents when he got into a coughing fit.

The Jinko found the giggling girls in the slide first, and then the redheaded child from the family of foreigners, he thinks her name is Lucy, and then a couple more neighborhood kids. He searches high and low but fails to find Gin, who the boy spotted fifteen minutes ago up in one of the trees on the ridge line. Her dark hair fashioned in two pigtail braids, several smaller leaves and tiny twigs stuck in it. She had always been the gifted one of them, stealthy, graceful, quick enough to climb a tree in ten seconds flat. 

Atsushi searched high and low, but his sister had this strange way of masking her presence. As the seeker steps under the tree, Gin jumps out of it, her arms and legs splayed out like a spider. A black widow scuttling around on her hands and feet. Their neighbor screamed, throwing his hands up in the air and taking off in the other direction. Akutagawa covers his mouth, a sound between a laugh and a cough coming from him since he can't help but compare his friend to a cat with its tail on fire. The silver-haired boy runs under his feet up the stairs of the playground equipment, forcing the dark-haired boy to lift his legs so he doesn't get knocked off his perch. Gin follows quickly behind, laughing as if she's having the time of her life, and she is, though it's at Atsushi's expense.

Down the slide, back up the playground stairs, and down the fireman's pole. Eventually, the other children join in their own little game of chase the tiger. Ryuunosuke smiles, at his sister, at his friend, his only real friend. That brings the fun and games to a screeching halt, everyone suddenly turning their attention to him as he laughs so hard he drops the prized book he'd been reading. Gin grins, looking particularly deranged with foliage sticking out of her black hair, the other neighborhood kids look dumb-struck, mouths hanging open so far he's pretty sure they're going to get stuck like that. Atsushi looks star-struck like he found the meaning to life in their tumultuous world. Almost like the four-year-old is watching his first fireworks display.

Instead of treating the boy like an animal trapped in a zoo, they all begin laughing, falling over, and lying down in the grass where they all once stood. It's a bright, hot summer day. The kind Akutagawa would usually prefer to spend inside sitting in front of an oscillating fan. It's the kind of day where he'd rather be beating the heat at the pool, but his sister and friend overruled him. Hence they ended up in the park. The kind of day that he should hate, and under different circumstances, he probably would detest it. However, that summer day spent under the blazing summer sun was perfect. And it had nothing to do with Atsushi carefully helping him climb down from the archway of the playground equipment. 

Not at all. 

It also had nothing to do with the stoic raven-haired child plucking sakura petals out of silver hair.

The next time they met up, just Atsushi and Akutagawa, because Gin had violin practice, the older boy brought a new book around. A picture book his mother purchased from a used bookstore, one he stayed up all night reading under the blanket with his fig print flashlight, and one he wanted to share. The only problem was he didn't think the Jinko would appreciate his new book. 

He sat on the park bench in front of the playground they typically met at, the book propped up on his knees. The angle made the playground he grew up playing on look small, of course, a young Ryuunosuke remembered it seemed huge, but almost everything appeared to be gigantic when you were a child. 

The boy waited and waited, the sun went from its place high in the sky to slowly descending. An hour turned into two, something that's never happened since they started coming to the park. Now, he could acknowledge that it hadn't been very long given how young the boy from next door was, but the Nakajima's were never late to anything. Atsushi's mother would have hurried him out the door before he could ever be late. So why? Why did the raven sit in the public park alone?

He stood, the skinny toothpick legs of a sickly child carrying him to the park entrance. Outside of it, he found a dazed-looking silver-haired boy, the rims of his eyes red and puffy as if he'd been crying for the two hours Akutagawa waited for him. The book clattered to the ground, the Jinko practically throwing himself at him, but at least he had the good sense to protect the boy's head when they both fell to the ground in a heap. A wide-eyed black-haired boy with a permanent scowl stared at the sky, fluffy white clouds passing by in all manner of shapes. That one looks like a duck.

Slowly he came back to himself, the realization his skin burned against hot cement hardly important with the first sniffle from the younger boy now on top of him. Small shoulder shook, racking with sobs, and for a moment all Ryuunosuke was capable of doing was laying starfished on the ground. As if approaching a wild animal, cautious hands wrapped around the roaring tiger atop him. Neither party spoke. He wasn't sure Atsushi would be capable of human speech had he made an effort to communicate, and Akutagawa was at a loss for what to say.

"Why do adults decide to get married?”

Eventually, the silver-haired boy did calm down, allowing the more sickly of the two to practically drag him over to a nearby park bench. The Jinko truly does eat like a beast because he was far heavier than a four-year-old had any right being. However, his next door neighbor and unlikely best friend still sniveled.

"What kind of question is that?"

To say Akutagawa was surprised and a bit peeved would be an understatement. The other boy stained his clothes with his tears, and if he looked close enough he's positive he'd find some snot. Gross. Why did he have so much goodwill for this crybaby and again? One of life's greatest mysteries.

"My mom and dad, they're getting a divorce."

A sniffle larger than the others, full of mucus being sucked back into his nasal cavity. The older boy couldn't help the full-body cringe he did. Disgusting tiger snot.

"I'm not really sure what that means, but the way they explained it to me, I know it means they don't love each other anymore."

As a child with a weak constitution and a capacity for occasionally coughing his lungs out, Ryuunosuke kept a hanky on him at all times. All were embroidered with his initials, and given to him by his parents. They insisted he carried a hanky every time he ventured outside, and thus a habit was born. He reached inside his shirt pocket, thin fingers gripping the fabric and thrusting it towards Atsushi. The weretiger accepted it, blowing his nose rather loudly before offering it back. He shook his head wildly, probably protesting more passionately than he should.

"Keep it."

Stupid Jinko. A long moment of suspended silence echoed around them, the song of the bride filling the noiseless void. His friend had met a roadblock in life, as he would many times to come, but this one was major. What do you say to someone in this situation? What can you say? Nothing can make it better, nothing can change the course of events. He warned Atsushi he wouldn't be a very good friend, but the persistent idiot never gave up on him. How could he give up on the boy next door now?

"Adults are weird. The things they do, the decisions they make, sometimes I don't understand them either."

If he focused he could feel sunset eyes boring into the side of his face, purple and yellow separate but combining in a way they did only when the boy cried. The sheen over his eyes muddled the divide, creating a blend of the colors.

"However, I think their emotions are too complex for us to ever comprehend."

A chill bit at his skin as the sun descended a flurry of oranges and yellows blues and purples lighting the sky. Atsushi's eyes are better.

"Do you remember that argument we had last summer? You wanted to play at the park, and I wanted to stay inside reading the new book I got?"

He remembered it. Their first compromise. Akutagawa brought his book to the park, and with the sunlight on his skin, he read to the silver-haired boy. At the time the boy seemed content to listen, practically on the edge of his seat while he hung onto every word. After that Atsushi regularly asked the black-haired boy to read to him, and he had no reason to refuse such a request. Atsushi nodded.

"We wanted to do different things, but we were able to find a compromise. Sometimes adults argue in the same way."

The Jinko blinked curiously, red-rimmed eyes furrowing in confusion. Maybe he hadn't given a good enough example. It seemed straightforward enough to him, but the boy next door had a rather simple mind.

"You mean they argue about going to the park?"

Yeah. Definitely a simple-minded buffoon. Ryuunosuke pinched the bridge of his nose, the agitation he felt growing until it spewed from his mouth.

"No you idiot, I mean that they want different things."

Atsushi deflated a bit, nodding his head. At least he didn't burst into tears, but he has been close with the stoic boy since birth. He should be used to his insults and yelling by now.

"Not everyone can find a compromise for the different things they want."

A bubble surrounded them, their little slice of peace another living being could touch. It always seemed to go like this when he went out with the younger boy. In each other's presence they somehow always found what they were missing. They made up for what the other lacked, filling in the gaps to create a whole person.

"Do you think that will ever happen to us?"

The tiger whispered into the empty park like he was telling a secret, the playground equipment their only witness. There's a possibility it could as they grew up. Grades separated them, so did a two-year age gap. In all fairness, the differences in their personalities were prevalent from the beginning. He smiled that rare smile.

"Of course not, Jinko. It's you and I against the world."

Atsushi hummed a small noise of agreement, nodding his head rapidly. At least his mood has improved greatly since he tackled Akutagawa at the park entrance.

"You have a new book."

It's a rather astute observation considering he placed the book on the far side of the bench, slightly out of what should have been the boy's line of sight. The book had gotten pushed almost behind him after all.

"Will you read it to me?"

He nodded his head as he cracks the spine and props the book up between the two of them. One cover resting on a short chubby leg, and the other resting on his own stick thin leg.

"Once upon a time..."

Little did he know they'd never get the chance to see if their relationship could withstand the test of time.

Chapter Text

Nothing in this world or the next can compare to the high of a performance. The blood rushing in your ears, the thousands of screaming fans practically shaking the floors, the searing heat of the high voltage spotlights. Those same high beams that half shadow his face, purple and yellow. The purple light is angled towards his face, highlighting hair darker than the blackest night and white tips brighter than the moon. The yellow light points more towards the keyboard, illuminating the expanse of it so he can see to play. Long, thin fingers drum on keys, the selected effect on the keyboard giving the keys a metallic sound that reverberates through the loudspeakers of the concert hall. 

It's a solo, well, a duet between him and the bassist, his dear younger sister. A glance up shows the woman lost in the music, her head weaving and bobbing, beads of sweat flinging off her skin as the song rises and crashes like falling waves. They riff off each other, experimenting with the written melody like they have before in many live shows, providing the crowd with an experience that was their own. To a certain extent, every member of The Port Mafia rifts off each other, but only he and Gin have this kind of telepathic connection where they can completely change the source material and force it to work for them. If anyone asked he'd call it a sibling thing. When they take the stage together they command the music completely and totally. Masters of their craft unrivaled. Not that everyone isn't insanely talented in their own right. 

Tachihara is an idiot Chuuya has to reign in when he starts to get too rowdy, the display, while familiar, still reminds him of those American shows with cattle ranchers. Actually, to Chuuya they're all probably livestock to be herded, sheep to be guided by the eldest member. For all the annoyance Tachihara brings Akutagawa he has to admit his bandmate has an unparalleled ear for music. Perfect pitch he would call it, but overachiever Tachihara would say it wasn't perfect. And Chuuya, if a band were to be compared to the body, Chuuya would be the heart. While level-headed isn't how someone would describe the redhead with a temper almost as short as him,  tenacious would be. Chuuya, who danced to the beat of his own drum, Chuuya with a fire that burned brighter than the sun, tempered his flames so his juniors could shine. The guitarist had everything required to make it big as a solo artist, he could have spread his wings and flown if he desired. He never did though. Instead Chuuya collaborated with his fellow band members to create a successful team.

Sometimes Akutagawa believed they held back their oldest member.

A key change, a transition of keys and hand positions. Fingers raced up and down piano keys and bass strings, holding keys, vibrating strings with the calloused fingers of a skilled musician. Gin hadn't always played the bass, but she played it as if it were the instrument she played every day rather than the forgotten violin that collected dust in the corner of her room. His sister was the sentimental type. Too bitter to ever pick up the instrument again, and yet too attached to sell it. The siblings shared a glance, a small microscopic thing only made possible by muscle memory. They raise the stakes, the piano making up for what the bass lacks, and the bass making up for the fact he doesn't have enough available fingers to play all the lower notes.

 Purple and yellow catch his eye, the lights never fade, but they come into focus with startling clarity. Suddenly the pianist is no longer on a stage with his bandmates. The scenery melts away like wet paint on a canvas in the rain, and he stands in the park from his childhood. Red slide, blue metal grates design to be stood on, faded green swings, a hill cut off my trees. Purple and yellow pop into his line of sight, the color of the sunset, the color of peace and happiness, and all things good in this world. That's what purple and yellow used to mean, purple and yellow used to mean Atsushi, purple and yellow used to mean home. Now they mean nothing. 

They mean nothing.

He closes his eyes, if he can't see the colors they don't exist. His eyes squeeze tight, the skin of his eyelids wrinkle, they ache with the effort it takes to keep them shut. Ryuunosuke is reduced to a child hiding under the covers, trying to escape the pain rising inside of him. Something deep, and primal, and more agonizing than any aspect of his illness could be. If he focuses on that feeling for too long he'd realize it's grief. Grief untouched, grief that hasn't been worked through in ten years, grief he is not strong enough to survive. The oppressive weight of sadness falls over him, it's not the first time, and it won't be the last. He misses the Jinko, he acknowledges it because on the stage drowning in his sorrow is unacceptable. He can poke and prod at those painful wounds because he won't break down in front of the thousands of adoring fans who came to see them perform. It's easier to avoid it, easier to let it creep in and then out just as quickly. Like a cold winter's day when the chill settles over your bones, but you know it won't be permanent since you'll have to go inside eventually.

Chuuya and Tachihara clap a makeshift beat, he can't hear it, but he's sure it sounds fine. The crowd is into the song, into the music, their feet stomp and the roaring of their voices carries across the concert hall, he can't see it, but he can feel it with the way the floor vibrates. He wants this to be over.

He wants.

The white tips of his hair are glued to his neck with sweat, he doesn't move as much as Chuuya or Gin, but the stage lights warm him. A cough rises in his throat, settling in his windpipe like a lump. If he breathed, if he dared to open his mouth no doubt he'd start hacking. All he has to do is finish the song. Finish the song that has entered the final stage. A few more notes separate him from the end. Grey eyes flicker open, he greets the sight he wishes he could forget. A young boy with black hair sits next to a younger boy with white hair, they're talking, the younger boy is more animated, using his hands to exaggerate. The sun is setting, the last time he saw the sunset with the Jinko before everything before he went away.

Aku, someday I want to marry you

It's you and I against the world

I don't care if you're gloomy, or rude, or even if you hate me. You're my best friend.

The words of naive hopeful children who are too shiny and bright to understand the world is dark and unfair. Akutagawa understands it now though. Were they empty all along? He doesn't think so, or rather he doesn't want to believe his words were hollow. One, two, three, four. Bang, crash, boom, slide. The song crescendos, his agony washes over him anew, and then the waves shrink back. The final notes, the home stretch. He lets it go while his fingers hammer the keys, the note stretching longer and louder than the rest by virtue of his pinky finger nudging the volume slider. The final goodbye, the final hello. The end of all things. His vision clears, the shouts overwhelm him as everything comes into focus all at once.

Distance makes the heart grow fonder. He can't remember who said that to him first in the days after Atsushi left, his parents seemed to be the most likely culprit though since they always said meaningless things like that. They never could understand what he lost because they never could understand who their son was. Akutagawa mourns. Akutagawa mourns a possible future, and the days of a past he can never escape. He relives moments in his head, searching for an answer, a sign, some kind of explanation. Every time he finds nothing, and a desolate feeling cascades over him. He mourns a relationship lost, one he isn't able to rekindle even if he wanted to because he does not know how to contact his childhood friend. He doesn't want to though. Seeing and speaking to the boy with the split-colored eyes would be opening up a can of worms he wasn't ready to touch.

Chuuya strums his guitar, Akutagawa backs up until he disappears stage left. A hanky embroidered with his initials and a bottle of water sitting waiting for him on an open table. He coughs into the white fabric, a crimson stain tainting the once-solid color. A bit of water washes the taste of blood out of his mouth. The vocalist creates the opening for him to take care of his health, hyping up the crowd for what will be their last hoorah before wrapping things up and returning home the victors. The Diablo wants to go home now, wants to collapse into the sheets while some medicine soothes his sore, raw throat. Alas, a job is a job, and the show must go on.

In the end, it was worth it, it always is in spite of how much he complains, and he complains a lot. Even when the performance high evaporated into thin air the male with the dyed tips ended up being left feeling drained physically, emotionally, and mentally. The love for the job remained. The same as when they began. From the humble origins of a simple band full of misfits the world had already decided weren't worth the time, to people lined up and wrapped around buildings just for a chance to experience the art the band created. The success almost made all the struggles worth it. At the very least it paid the therapy bill.

If you told him a year ago he would be standing on a stage playing for thousands of people, he wouldn't have believed it. He might have spat in your face for wasting his time with delusions of grandeur. Hell, he was living it and some days it barely felt real. Maybe someday he'd wake up under the sakura tree in his old childhood neighborhood.

"Akutagawa! Come on! Let's get back to the hotellll! I'm tired!"

Tachihara appeared by his side, materializing out of the air like he tended to, and draping himself over the stoic male's shoulders. He hung on to him, an unwelcome weight guiding and pushing him towards the back door where their security detail accepted them. By now he knew trying to pry his bandmates off was a useless endeavor. Tachihara coiled himself around you, attaching himself to you like a child with his favorite toy. Getting him off meant having to get a tow truck to heave him away. 

"Don't you have someone else to bother? You're heavy, get off."

Akutagawa dug his elbow into the easily accessible side of his bandmate, twisting and turning it until the grip around his loosened allowing him to slip away. Tachihara reaches for his side, rubbing the irritated skin to help soothe the dull pain. 

"Come on man, lighten up a bit."

He scowls, stepping up onto the floor of the unmarked SUV, and pivoting to sit in one of the seats. Chuuya sits in the passenger seat, Gin clambers in and sits in the middle, Tachihara rounds the car to the other side. 

"What crawled up his ass?"

The drummer grumbles, slamming the door shut behind him. The driver, he can't be bothered to remember his name right now, starts the car and peels away from the concert hall with the rest of their security detail riding in another SUV behind them. What a pain.

Their Japan tour is set up into two legs. Don't ask why, it's just how the scheduling ended up working out in the end. The first leg, which they're doing now in late spring, and the second leg, which they plan to do next year in early summer. Japan is large, and the cities are always vastly populated. As a celebrity; however minor a celebrity he may be, Akutagawa could have set up roots in any bustling city or quiet countryside. But home would forever be Yokohama. Bright, loud, bursting with life. The place where his life had truly bloomed after he went to live with his grandfather. The grumpy man wasn't overly sentimental, he learned not to be all those years ago, but Yokohama held a special place in his heart, and Ozaki Kouyou's bar, Lupin, held a special place in the heart of their band. 

A sanctuary for the weary run by a woman who seemed to have nurture and malicious down to a fine art. Lupin bar, the place where he met Chuuya, the place where their band was born. After a show in Japan, as long as they weren't on the completely different side of the country, they ended up here. Even before Ryuunosuke was old enough to drink before Gin graduated high school before they were anything more than a band producing their own music and performing small-time gigs. Lupin bar was their cornerstone, their shelter from the storm of their lives.

Until it wasn't anymore.

The Akutagawa sibling's mother always said, " Life is composed of a series of coincidences. How we react to these - how we exercise what some refer to as free will - is everything; the choices we make within the boundaries of the twists of fate determine who we are." The boy would later find out the woman read that in a book somewhere, and the hypocrisy of that was too much. If fate did exist, as much as he didn't like the idea of not being in control of his future, he liked to imagine what it might look like. Rather it has some corporeal body, or it floated around like a shroud, or maybe it was akin to an invisible ghost pushing and pulling you in a direction. Whatever fate looked like, the last face he pictured was Atsushi Nakajima, and yet there he stood. The Jinko looked different. Of course, it'd been a decade since they last saw each other, so that was to be expected. And yet nothing could prepare him for the desolate dullness in those split heterochromatic eyes. A white apron is wrapped around a stick-thin waist, too thin , his clothes, clearly second-hand, hang awkwardly from his figure, and a tray is poised on one hand, balanced with a grace only cats possess. He curses Kouyou and her bleeding heart.

"How are you doing tonight Nakajima?"

Chuuya calls, waving in his direction. The redhead guitarist flinches when he finds himself on the other end of Akutagawa's piercing glare. This was his fault, it has to be.

Sheepishly the Jinko approaches the table, his eyes skillfully avoiding the ones staring holes into his head. Unevenly cut hair, baggy clothes, worn down shoes that are practically falling apart. A scent barrels into him, assaulting his senses. Jinko. It is him, it's not some trick or a mirage like it used to be. He's here, he's alive, and the man with the dyed tips is livid.

"Jinko."

He sneers, teeth clenched so hard his jaw hurts. He should be happy, anyone else would be, but that old pain courses through him anew.

"Brother, please."

Gin, who sits across from him, stretches her arm across the table. Slim, delicate fingers come into contact with the back of his hand, smoothing his skin and soothing his rage. He appreciates the comfort, even if it's not what he wanted. What he wants is to fly across this table, grab Atsushi by his collar, and give him a piece of his mind. But that would cause a scene. What he does instead is stand from the table, the legs of his chair screeching. He's seething, his blood is boiling, he feels like crying and punching something and laughing maniacally all at the same time.

"I'm going first."

He turns on his heel, grabbing his long black coat off the back of the chair and draping it over his shoulders.

"Aku, wait."

The voice makes him pause, and he hates how the sad eyes of the Jinko force something in him to break. I hate him. I really hate him.

I missed him.

He lifts his head, looking down his nose at the startled white-haired man. There are so many things he wants to say, curses he wants to spit, stories he wants to tell. He doesn't say any of it though. No, some things are not so easily forgiven. Instead, he levels Atsushi with a glare, pinning the Jinko to his spot, and cementing his deteriorating shoes to the ground.

"Don't address me so casually, Nakajima."

No one stops him this time. Not the Jinko, not his sister, not Tachihara who looks confused, and not Chuuya who looks pissed.

Chapter Text

There was one thing Atsushi Nakajima desired once he turned eighteen. After living a life where he was told daily that nothing he owned actually belonged to him, there was only this one thing that belonged to him and him alone. His memories. Those summer days of a bygone youth he chased on the nights when his bruises burned and every inhale felt like being stabbed from how hard he'd been kicked. The smiling face of his friend he could remember less and less as hunger pains scrambled his brain and dehydration distorted reality. What did Ryuu look like when he smiled? When he laughed, or even when he cried? He held onto those things as best he could, but bit by bit he forgot. Such is the downfall of memory alone, and his father had taken his photos not long after they moved here. So, with his birthday nearing, and the day he could claim his freedom at long last dawning with it he contacted both of the Akutagawa siblings. Would they be happy to see him again after all these years? How had life changed since Atsushi disappeared? What had they become? Did Ryuu achieve his dreams? He hopes he did.

The text is a simple thing, a request for a meeting in a public place with a picture of himself attached to verify his identity. He'd grown and matured, and his features had sharpened over the years of maltreatment. A child he was no longer, and his eyes didn't hold the same spark as they once did in the naivety of his youth, but his eye color was the same and so was his hair color. Gin believed him, that's all that mattered. Ryuu never answered his messages, not even a read receipt showed up. That was a few days before his birthday, making him still seventeen and still under his father's unyielding thumb. The only silver lining is that Atsushi had gotten very good at hiding things.

When Gin answered his message she initially asked him where he was living now, and to say he was hesitant to answer would be an understatement. Where hadn't he lived in the last thirteen years? Homes that belonged to family, apartments in unsavory parts of town, shelters in areas where he'd get pulled by his hair into back alleys. The last time he'd been grabbed his hair had been long, and his ill-fitting clothes disguised the masculine contours of his body just well enough for people to think he was a girl. That was when he cut it off in an attempt to escape, the edge of his hair still jagged even if now he wasn't half bald. He couldn't tell her where he was living, what his life had been like since they last saw him. There were no friends, no happy families, no birthdays or presents. It was barely a life. Even so, it was his, and he felt nothing but anger and shame towards it. And so, he flipped the question and bought a one-way ticket to Yokohama when he had his answer.

The day Atsushi turned eighteen was quiet. He doubted his father even remembered that it was his birthday, and even if he did he certainly didn't care. Birthdays were like every other day. There was no reprieve from the beatings, no day of rest from household chores, and if he even talked about going anywhere he'd be put in such a state where moving was an impossibility. Atsushi didn't talk about it. His father might have come looking for him in the future, but he'd have to find him first since there was no longer anything that could be done legally. And believe him, he had tried to leave many times over the years, and he understood the legal aspects of minors running away from home. No one believed him when he brought up the abuse because teenagers were liars, or dramatic, or his father made up some sob story about his wayward son who liked to hurt himself. They couldn't bring him back home in handcuffs now though. All his belongings fit into a worn brown leather messenger bag, the same one he's used for school since they moved. The bag is falling apart at the seams, different color threads act as patchwork to keep the bag from being unusable, and it's obvious the repairs have been done by an untrained hand. However, this bag is his, and so is the camera he bought with the savings from his multiple summer jobs. A few changes of clothes, the precious photo camera, a spiral-bound notebook nearly full of drawings, and a couple thousand yen are all he has to his name when he jumps out of his bedroom window to leave behind the world he has known. It's the first step in a new direction. A better direction. It has to be because anything would be better than home.

Atsushi arrived at the cafe Gin said they should meet about twenty minutes before they were actually supposed to meet. He's nervous, had been since he left the train station with his stomach tied in so many knots he didn't know where to begin to unwind them. A man stopped him as he was getting off the train, well, really he'd ran into him, but that was neither here nor there. A guitar case clattered to the ground when they collided and Atsushi instantly panicked because that was something he definitely couldn't afford to fix, oh god, what if it had been broken beyond repair?

"Ah shit, that's my bad, are you- Hey kid are you okay?"

He can't breathe, he's not breathing, and the man looks concerned and confused by the extreme reaction. Red catches in his vision, some part of his registers that it's the man's hair color, but that's not important right now when all he can think about is how he doesn't have the money to replace a guitar.

"I-I'm sorry."

"Nothing to worry about, good old Baki' has been through worse than that. But really, you alright?"

He feels like he can breathe a little easier with the reassurance that no harm has been done, but he's still apologizing and bowing profusely. The man flounders for a moment, waving his hands in front of him to try and get Atsushi to stop making a scene. By now they've attracted the attention of a crowd.

"It's alright, kid. Would you fucking stop apologizing? I said it was fine."

"I'm sorry."

"Huh?! What are you apologizing for now? Oh for the love of-!"

A hand wraps around his bicep, loose but secure as it drags him away from the more crowded area of the train station. They stop when there are fewer eyes, and the lack of the feeling of needles pressing against his skin makes him relax even more. The man sits the guitar case down on an unoccupied bench, clicking the latch open and flicking the top up til the red body of the guitar can be seen.

"See? It's fine, nothing to worry about."

Oh, thank God. He thinks, but he must also say it out loud because the foul-mouthed redhead snickers.

"I'm Chuuya."

"Atsushi Nakajima, sir!"

Chuuya blinks surprised for a moment before clicking his tongue in frustration.

"None of that sir shit. Just Chuuya."

"Chuuya-san."

"I said just Chuuya!"

Chuuya is the first new friend he makes in Yokohama. He passes on his business card, offering to buy him a drink in return for all the grief he caused, but when Atsushi insists he should be the one buying him a drink he agrees easily. The white-haired boy doesn't even stop to say he's underage and can't drink anyway. It doesn't matter. Chuuya is kind if a little brash, speaking his mind about this or that on their way out of the train station, and Atsushi misses the noise of conversation when they part ways. The redhead wishes him luck reuniting with his old friend as he turns to leave, and Atsushi stays bent in a bow until he disappears in the sea of bodies outside of the station.

Out of all the things he expected when seeing Gin the last one was a hug. The woman, it's still hard thinking of her like that even if that's what she is because in his mind he remembers a child, greets him with a kind smile and a tight embrace. She wraps him up in her arms, shielding him away from the on-lookers who watch curiously and offers to pick up the tab for their coffee orders. He doesn't argue that point with her for very long because even just this would put a chip in his savings and he still doesn't know where he'll end up staying tonight.

"It's good to see you."

She exhales as they finally sit down with their orders in hand, steam rising from the coffee cups. He stares down at the heart shape in his drink, parroting the sentiment.

"But why didn't you try and contact Ryuu? He'd be happy to hear from you after all this time I'm sure."

Ryuu is the only missing part of the equation, the only thing keeping the day from being perfect. His gaze turns wistful, his smile fond in an old melancholy way it does when he thinks back on a time when things were simpler. That time in his life seemed like a distant dream. If he had known then that those times he felt true blissful happiness would disappear he would have held onto them longer, stretched the time they spent together until they had to be physically removed from one another.

"I tried, he never answered."

Gin hummed thoughtfully, frowning down at the cold foam in her cup. The black straw stuck out among the clear plastic, but it blended in with her hair where it framed her face. 

"We get a lot of messages these days. Yours probably got lost among the rest."

The jinko somberly peers down into his cooling coffee, and his reflection stares back at him from across milk waves. Everything he is stares back at him.

"I'm not the same."

Gin smiled kindly, responding good-naturedly even if she didn't yet fully grasp what the scope of different meant for Atsushi.

"Well, I wouldn't imagine you'd be the exact same. It has been, wait, how many years now?"

"Thirteen years, five months, two weeks, and four days."

When his father packed him up into the car and left the home they'd built, the only home Atsushi had ever known, he started counting. At first, it was the days since he'd last seen his friend because his father told him they'd visit, but they never did. Eventually, his counting became a countdown to when he would see Ryuunosuke again.

"I want to see him again, but I'm worried I won't live up to the image of me in his head."

What would Ryuu think when he saw him again? What did Gin think now? He was skinny, his arms barely holding any weight on them from the few irregular meals he did have. His eyes were haunted by his upbringing, and nightmares plagued him at night, old memories that resurfaced against his will. A feeling of inadequacy settles over him.

"My brother shut down after you left, and then when you didn't call or send a letter he got bitter. I won't lie, this isn't going to be easy, but.. at this one gig a couple of weeks ago he saw this flash of silver out in the crowd and called your name. You may have changed, but so have we, and he misses you all the same."

He finds that he believes her when she says Akutagawa wants to see him, and he wants to see Akutagawa too. That should be all there is to it right? Atsushi doesn't have the same optimism that this will go well, but he's willing to try if it means getting to see his best friend again after all these years.

"Now, about that unemployment thing you were talking about. You mentioned something about being a photographer right? I have this friend who's looking for someone to do some promotional shots for the band..."

Meeting Chuuya Nakahara again for the second time in a bar wasn't how he imagined them seeing each other, but it ended up being for the best he thinks.

---

"Brother wait!"

The frantic voice of Ryuunosuke Akutagawa's younger sister calls out behind him, begging him to stop and come back inside. The older brother who has always heeded his sister's call when she needed him turns his back and ignores her plea. He can barely stand to look at her. She knew how he felt, she watched him mourn his old friend, so why is he always the last one to know?!

"Please slow down! Can't we at least talk about this? Ryuunosuke!"

The height difference between the Akutagawa siblings gives the older of the two an advantage in pursuit, and even though he's walking, he's hoofing it down the street as quickly as his lungs will allow. Gin is unable to catch up with him, good, he doesn't want her to.

"Please come back! We're supposed to be celebrating."

The physical exertion is already beginning to take a toll on him after the day's excitement, his breathing coming out in rough wheezes as his pace slows marginally to compensate. It's enough of a difference that Gin quickly closes the distance with a swift jog, pushing ahead a bit to block his path and stop him in his tracks. She throws her arms up at her sides to block him when he tries to sidestep around her, and he levels a deadly glare in her direction that is more disappointed than it is angry. Most people who know him wouldn't call him soft-hearted or kind, but anyone who had seen the siblings together knew the brother and sister shared a deep bond. They're family, they've always been the only ones they could depend on before they went to live with their grandfather, and he loves her even if he doesn't like her right now. It is for that reason and that reason only he doesn't run her down, pausing in his racing pace.

The black-haired male is familiar with hate. He has hated many people in his life and felt hatred so powerful it overwhelms his senses and turns him into a demon, a mad dog. It earned him a nickname when he was in school: Diablo. His hate and rage are something that he's tamed, wrapping them around himself like a protective cloak to keep out the bad things that exist in the world beyond. It's where his stage persona, Rashomon, comes from. He's familiar enough with the emotion to know consciously that what he feels right now is not it, but it is a dark something that mimics it. He's hurt, and confused, and there's a little bit of fear he can feel crackling beneath the surface of his fraying mental state. There is no ill will to be bared toward his sister, Chuuya, or his bandmates. Hell, when he searches there's not even any to be thrown at Atsushi, but on some level, he thinks the jinko deserves just a little bit of something. It would serve him right with all that nerve he seems to have. To just waltz back into his life after all this time, smiling at him and using that same nickname so casually as if they still knew each other after the years apart. More than anything what hurts him is the reaction Gin had to seeing Atsushi again. Chuuya didn't know, he hadn't lived it, but she had. She didn't react at all, not a trace of surprise on her face. Rather she looked expectant, like she was waiting or anticipating something. Like she had known he was there, and had decided it best to ambush him with it rather than be upfront about it.

"Where are you running off to? The others are going to worry about you."

His sister huffs a bit, her arms folding down till her hands are left on her hips. She only flinches the tiniest bit before leveling her own disapproving state at him. A light breeze sends his jacket fluttering around him like it has a life of its own, and if it did he imagine it raising its snarling beastly maw and gnashing sharp fabric teeth.

"Whatever will they do without the two of us?"

When the words leave his mouth he realizes how bitter he sounds. The Akutagawa siblings learned at a young age it's best to keep your cards close to your chest, play them in your own time to achieve the best possible outcome, or avoid a worse fate, but he feels utterly bare standing in front of his sister. He can't hide the anguish he feels or disguise the way his features twist in an approximation of grief. Tiger claws have struck him, rending flesh and tearing him open so that the world may peer at what's inside of him. It's an Atsushi-shaped hole that he is unable to fill, one that has always existed below a messy row of shoddy stitches. And it's ridiculous. Ridiculous he still feels this way after all this time, insanity that he allows the weretiger to have this much control over him, unfathomable how deep the hurt goes. A mirror on the door of a car parked on the curb glints in the low light as the shadows shift, the feeling of eyes prickle against his skin like a series of stabbing needles, and when he turns he finds a tiger stalking his prey.

When they were little Ryuunosuke had likened Atsushi to a stray alley cat begging for scraps, but there's no doubt now the cat has grown up into something much larger. There's something about this that feels like being hunted, the same claustrophobic feeling of danger in combination with the exhilaration of adrenaline. He could run, leave Gin standing like a goalie while he tucked his tail between his legs and retreated to lick his open wounds. If he did that he's sure the jinko would drop it, but maybe then he'd disappear again and as deep as his pain runs a life without Atsushi doesn't sound worth living. The pianist has spent the majority of his life with it devoid of his best friend, his only friend, but now Atsushi is here. He's standing right there, and he's so alive, and his eyes are so haunted, and he's so beautiful. I missed him so much. And why can't he say that? Why can't he say anything that isn't something hateful? These aren't the things he wants to say. A reality where they go back to being strangers shouldn't be allowed to exist.

"I thought you'd be happy to see Atsushi-kun, brother."

I am happy.

For how long had she known? How long has Atsushi been so close and yet so far? The question bounces around in his mind on an unbreakable loop, knocking things over in the tidy trove of his memories and making them all a jumbled mess. How did she want him to act? How was he supposed to act? Why can't I just be normal for once and say I'm glad he's here?

Where have you been?

"You knew."

That is what he says instead. Atsushi flinches, and Gin fumbles for a moment in surprise. He seethes, fists clenching and unclenching by his sides in barely concealed rage. The raven senses the cat prowling behind him and he's sure if Atsushi takes one more step forward he'll turn around and deck him. Maybe punching the man wouldn't be such a bad idea. Instead of the cat catching the bird it'll be the bird swooping down and snatching the stray kitten.

"Don't move! Stay out of this, it doesn't concern you. This is between me and my sister."

He snarls, pointing back behind him in the direction he feels purple and yellow eyes gazing at him. The footsteps stop.

Have you been well?

"How long?"

Gin has the decency to at least appear shameful, her eyes falling to the ground to look at her feet, unable to bear his accusatory grey eyes. He knows the answer is too long to not have told him sooner. 

Why didn't you try and see me sooner?

"Gin, how long have you been planning this behind my back?"

The woman is soft-spoken and has been her whole life, but she answers in a whispered mumble he can not decipher.

Can it be like it was before?

"Gin!"

"A few weeks ago he reached out to me. He said he was moving back to Yokohama after his birthday!" 

Their parents were useless really. When they found out their children couldn't be molded into what they wanted them to be their grandfather took over the guardianship role, and when he came of age he helped shoulder the burden of taking care of his younger sister. He'd practically raised her in every way that counted since she was a child. They've cried together, bled together, lived together. She sat with him in those dark moments when he longed for his best friend. All the life events he'd been through, all the things he experienced, and there was only ever one person he wanted to share them with. She knew that. She knew how much he missed the jinko, how lonely he had been without him after he left, and she kept this from him even so.

Why did you never reach out? Did you miss me like I missed you? Was I not good enough? What happened to you after you disappeared? When will you leave again?

Now he turns his attention to Atsushi. The jinko shrinks under the ever-observant glare from the bird of prey, purple and yellow dual tones reflecting his own hurt back at him. This reunion isn't going how Atsushi expected it to either, and in his emotional honesty, each thing he feels plays on his features. He takes in his friend, really takes him in after all these years. As a child Atsushi was round, his cheeks plump like a cherub, and his fingers tiny sausages. He smiled freely, wild even, with a gap from a missing tooth on the right top-row incisor. His eyes were bright, mirthful, and youthful, they smiled with him wherever he went. The Atsushi in his memory plucked the sun from the sky and took it with him to brighten other people's days. The Atsushi in front of him is a different beast he doesn't recognize. He is a sniveling, snarling beast with too many jagged edges and sharp teeth. He's thin, too thin in a way where his body looks like it can barely sustain its weight. The mouth that used to always smile, and laugh even when things got rough is set in a permanent frown that looks practiced, like he's frowned every day in his life without smiling once. His expression is guarded in a word. Those dual-tone eyes are fierce, the glare of a predator, a cornered animal just begging you to fuck around and find out. This man is foreign to him in every way imaginable. Akutagawa wants to pull him apart and see what pieces are new.

"No call, no text, not even a letter in the mail. You were there one day, and then gone the next."

Ryuunosuke advances, a step, two, three. A hand on his wrist keeps him from going forward, and he yanks his hand away to glare at his sister who looks back at him with fearful eyes. He visibly softens at that look in her eyes. The siblings have seen much, and experienced more hate from their parents than anyone should. He's seen that look in her eyes before. Only twice, once before their grandfather became their primary guardian, and then again when his medical condition took a turn for the worse and he ended up in the hospital for a couple weeks. After that last time, he promised he'd never be the reason she wore that expression again, a vow he made to himself to protect their deserved, hard-earned peace. The pianist holds up a hand to silence whatever tirade she's about to go on.

"Just... Stop."

His tone is pleading, weak in a way it only ever is when a delicate situation involves his sister. 

"Brother, I understand you're upset, but please calm down. Hear Atsushi-kun out. He can explain."

The raven shakes his head. She's right, he should at least hear the weretiger out. He wants to hear him out so maybe the hurt he's nursing won't feel as personal.

"I'll meet you. Somewhere public during the day. Send me a date and time."

Gin parked her motorcycle outside of Lupin before they all clambered into the commercial entertainment vehicle for their concert, and the plan had originally been for him to ride home with her, but he preferred to be driven by literally anyone else at the moment. He glares down the weretiger, stuffing his hand into his jacket pocket and fishing out the worn business card he still carried from when he was an independent artist for hire. The card is practically thrown in Atsushi's direction, Akutagawa is unwilling to step any closer lest he break the younger man's nose.

"Thank you, Akutagawa-san."

Ryuu scoffed, looking his old friend up and down one last time. To prove to himself that he is real, to settle into a new reality, to come to terms with a truth. Atsushi Nakajima is here, and he's here to stay, for now at least. He has a job, he has made friends with Chuuya, and he seems to be making a life right here in Yokohama for himself. With a swift retreat, he returns to Gin's side, stopping for a moment on his way back to the main road so he can begin the process of finding a cab.

"We'll talk when you get home. Be safe.”