#sskkbb23

[scriveyner]

the places we'll go

Akutagawa wasn’t certain where’d he taken the wrong turn, but it came up quickly. He glowered at an unfamiliar street full of pedestrians, hands in his pockets as he stalked forward, intent on a mission. It wasn’t like him to get lost, but he was distracted as he often was these days, ruminating on the most creative way to eviscerate that miserable self-healing weretiger.

Continue on AO3 or after the jump:

The autumn air was crisp, not quite cold yet; but most people around him were dressed in long sleeves or pants, bundling against the inevitable drop in temperature when the sun finally sank past the horizon. They paid him little mind, which he preferred; but something just seemed off. The city streets around him had transitioned into more housing than commercial, and he had little business on this side of town.

Akutagawa went to turn a corner, intending to double back the way he’d come when he was nearly run down by an errant child swinging a toy sword.

Rashomon rippled, irritated from his shoulders as Akutagawa stared, surprised, at what looked to be the spitting image of the weretiger, only in child form.

“Oops, sorry mister,” the child yelped without even looking at him, even as an all-too-familiar voice shouted from along the road, “Acchan! Watch where you’re swinging that-!”

Akutagawa turned, taken aback but already preparing a snide remark about the weretiger’s secret lovechild when he locked eyes with Atsushi and froze in place. The weretiger’s stride faltered as well as they stared at each other, the moment stretching interminably long as Akutagawa’s gaze flickered from Atsushi to the small dark-haired child whose hand he was holding, and then over to himself, holding the child’s other hand and looking just as startled.

Time sped up, and everyone was in motion. “Acchan!” Atsushi roared, and the small version of himself turned, clearly startled by the tone, and finally looked up at Akutagawa, eyes wide.

“Dad?” he said, confused.

He caught the movement from the corner of his eye as his other self scooped the second child into his arms; Akutagawa turned to face them, coat spinning out behind him as Rashomon exploded from his coat in defensive tendrils. Before he could react one entire enormous tiger landed on him, taking him to the ground, teeth bared to his face.

Rashomon stabbed into the great white beast, through limbs and sides, drenching them both in blood but its weight was enormous, he couldn’t free himself from beneath its paws.

Blood splattered past his face and onto the concrete, and he felt his ribs crack under the weight of the enormous white tiger; he tried still to dislodge him—however, not even Rashomon deterred him, the growl echoing in his chest, hot breath blasting through his hair.

Black pulled at the edges of his vision; from the left he saw himself, holding the dark-haired child who looked like them both; this other him put his hand on the tiger’s bloody shoulder and said something softly.

Akutagawa coughed wetly, unable to parse the words through the blood rushing in his ears, and finally succumbed to the darkness pulling him under.

=====

Everything fucking hurt.

Akutagawa took a deep breath, took note of two cracked ribs that complained horrifically, and assessed before he even opened his eyes. He wasn’t restrained; heard no soft hum of medical equipment, and figured if he was dead, he wouldn’t hurt so goddamn much. Finally he opened his eyes and discovered, to his surprise, he was laid out on a couch, tattered black trench coat laid over him like a blanket.

Two pairs of eyes, one set dark gray and the other achingly familiar violet-gold, were peeking over the back of the couch at him. When the two sets of eyes realized that they had been spotted, both disappeared and two pairs of footsteps went thudding away, out of sight. “Dad, dad, dad!!!”

Akutagawa pushed himself upright, coat sliding off. He was shirtless, bandages wrapped securely around his chest—presumably to help with the cracked ribs—but they were not so tight as to restrict his already labored breathing. He pulled his coat around his shoulders as he sat up, Rashomon’s presence an immediate comfort, and the only thing familiar in this moment—until a second, enormous, red-eyed black Rashomon head hove over him from behind the couch.

He turned and saw himself, the two miniature versions of himself and the weretiger hiding safely behind his legs. Akutagawa stared at the children, perplexed, for a moment more, before raising his gaze and meeting his double’s eye.

The other Akutagawa said, “Upstairs, both of you. Now.”

“What?” the tiny Atsushi said. “No! I want to know—”

“You heard your father,” the weretiger’s voice came from out of sight, and after another long look at Akutagawa, both children slunk away.

Akutagawa took a deep breath, heart thudding in his chest like he’d run a marathon. “What the hell is going on,” he croaked, throat and mouth dry as the desert. “Who the hell are you?”

“I think that would be plainly obvious,” his double said shortly. “What’s less obvious is what you are doing here.”

The weretiger entered the room then; he was wearing different clothes from before but otherwise looked completely undamaged. His gait was strange, too; different from what Akutagawa was accustomed to, and it took him a moment to recognize it was that this Atsushi moved with an easy confidence. He wasn’t even bothered that Akutagawa was sitting here. He wasn’t seen as a threat.

Akutagawa hated him.

Atsushi was carrying a tray with tea on it, he set it on the low table in front of Akutagawa. “I made tea,” he announced unnecessarily. Akutagawa did not move, continuing to stare at his own twin, silent. Atsushi slid up beside his other self, but Akutagawa noted he did not present his back once. “Do you remember this happening?” he asked the man he stood beside in a low voice; as if Akutagawa could not hear them speak from this proximity.

His twin shook his head once, sharply, not taking his eyes off Akutagawa. “Not at all.”

“Do you think an ability…?”

“Why are you conversing so casually with the weretiger?” Akutagawa snapped suddenly, eyes alight, interrupting their conversation. “What is he even doing here, and who are those children?”

Atsushi stepped forward, eyes flashing with something he’d never seen in his own weretiger’s eyes. “I’m here because I’m meant to be,” he said, sharply. “The children are not your concern, don’t speak of them.”

“Weretiger,” his other self murmured, admonishing, and Atsushi tilted his head slightly in acknowledgment but didn’t look back.

“He tried to kill me in front of them,” he said, anger brimming brightly in his voice. “They’re going to be sleeping in our bed for a week.”

“Your what?”

Akutagawa watched his other self catch the weretiger’s elbow and pull him back. His touch was clearly a familiar comfort, not even a hair adversarial. It felt wrong to even see it, and Akutagawa shuddered, pulling his coat tighter over his shoulders. “If he’s me,” the other Akutagawa said, voice soft and firm, “he’s not stupid, Atsushi. Go sit with the kids, they need reassurance. Let me talk to him.”

Atsushi sputtered and looked between Akutagawa and his double. The look he shot Akutagawa was one he was familiar with and Rashomon acted without guidance, rippling in a red tinge from his shoulders, prepared for a fight.

Instead of engaging, though, Atsushi looked away. He took a breath, looked the other Akutagawa in the eye, and then walked back the way the children had disappeared. His twin watched Atsushi leave, and when he turned back to face Akutagawa his face was dark.

“You had best come up with a reason for me not to take your head for threatening my family,” his other self said in a low, cold tone.

“Why are you with the enemy?”

“The weretiger has never been our enemy,” his other self walked forward, looking down at Akutagawa with eyes that seemed lighter than his own. “I don’t care if you’ve figured that out for yourself or not; but as I have no memory of this encounter that means you are not my past.” He slid his hands into his pockets and leaned forward, threat written all over his face. “Which also means it will cause my life no harm if I were to allow yours to end.”

Akutagawa rose from the couch, facing his twin, Rashomon looming large from his coat and matching the threat display with one of his own. “Try it,” he urged, voice hoarse. “Shall we fight here, make a mess of this nice little home where you’re kept like a pet?”

His twin’s eyes grew hard. His own Rashomon almost overrode the impulse to do precisely that, but he stood firm. “If you are manifested from an ability, or are here because of one, it will simply take Dazai-san to reverse it,” he said finally. “You don’t want to be here, and we don’t want you here. Can’t we find an accord until this is resolved?”

It was a reasonable enough request, although Akutagawa wasn’t particularly interested in complying. “An accord,” he repeated. “I have no need to agree to anything with you, or with anyone. What benefit do I have to an accord with you?”

“The benefit,” Akutagawa’s twin said, slowly, enunciating, “is that I keep my husband from tearing out your throat for even the shadow of the threat you just posed to our children.”

“You’ve gone soft to not do it yourself,” Akutagawa hissed, Rashomon darting forward to engage—but that tendril was severed by a black as night Rashomon blade; almost faster than he could see. Startled, he took a step back, legs banging into the coffee table and spilling the tea across the tray. 

The other Akutagawa covered the distance between them, coming around the couch quickly. He got his hand in Akutagawa’s coat and their abilities thrummed together. Akutagawa froze, electricity prickling his skin, but his twin didn’t seem bothered in the slightest.

“Make no mistake,” he hissed, “I do not cower behind my weretiger. But I made him a vow, and I keep my word.”

They stared, eye to eye, breathing hard���and then his twin released him, took a step back, and folded his arms. He exhaled a shaky breath before meeting Akutagawa’s eye again. “Besides,” he said, the ghost of a smirk appearing. “I know you do not appreciate it now, but there is something delightful about him covered in someone else’s blood.”

The two Akutagawas stared at each other silently for a long moment as he turned the option over in his head. Finally, Akutagawa folded his arms and looked away. “An accord,” he said. “You shall answer any questions I have, and I shall not bring harm to the children?”

His other self nodded, pose mirrored, arms folded.

The quicker he got out of this absurd situation, the better. “Fine then,” he said. “You have your accord. Take me to Dazai-san.”

=====

This request turned out to be more complicated than he anticipated. “Dazai-san’s phone is off,” Atsushi said, seated across from Akutagawa on the couch and holding his phone in front of him with one hand, irritation plainly evident in his voice. “Again.”

“Chuuya-san just got back from France,” his twin said from across the room. He was standing at the table, supervising the two children working on homework. They kept sneaking furtive glances at Akutagawa, and then looking back to their father. “What did you expect?”

“How is it he’s never around when we need him?”

“Dazai-oji is going to be at the party tonight,” the small version of himself said, his gaze darting from Akutagawa to Atsushi. “We’re still going…right?”

“Absolutely not,” Atsushi said, distracted, at the same time that the other Akutagawa said, “of course we are.”

They crossed gazes, amusingly, and Akutagawa took a sip of his tea, watching the silent conversation composed entirely of glares. Finally, Atsushi sighed, looked back at his phone, and said, “Yes, we’re still going.”

“Party?” Akutagawa enquired, although he didn’t properly care, the question was disruptive enough that it amused him. His tiny self’s head came up immediately.

“It’s a Halloween party,” he said enthusiastically before he could be shushed. “I’m going to be a detective, like father!”

Akutagawa raised an eyebrow. “Ryuu-chan,” Atsushi said in a warning tone, but then the other child’s head came up, holding his pencil in his hand like a weapon.

“And I’m gonna be Zorro! Did you see my sword?”

“Acchan—!”

“I’m gonna show him my sword!” Before he could be interrupted or stopped, the small version of Atsushi went straight over the table and dashed around the corner, striped tail trailing out behind him. Bewildered, Akutagawa looked over to Atsushi, who now had his head in both hands.

Akutagawa wasn’t certain how to phrase the question he wanted to ask, which rarely stopped but before he could the tiny Atsushi known as Acchan had returned, a familiar toy rapier in his hand. He bounded over the back of the couch with ease and sat next to Akutagawa fearlessly, proudly wielding his toy.

Atsushi’s head shot up, and he could see his other self start to move from out of the corner of his eye; as if he intended to remove the child from Akutagawa’s proximity. “See?” Acchan said, showing off the weapon. “It makes a whippy noise if you swing it around real fast but isn’t pointy at all!”

“I…see,” Akutagawa said, dryly, uncertain how to handle this.

“Acchan,” his twin said sharply, and Acchan’s enthusiasm wilted slightly. “If you wish to go to the party this evening, your homework must be completed.”

“Okay,” he mumbled, sliding off the couch cushion and retreating back to the table, sword still in hand.

“Where…?” That wasn’t the question he wanted to ask. Akutagawa inclined his head toward the table, as his other self leaned over and answered a question from Ryuu-chan. “How?”

“An ability,” Atsushi said, correctly interpreting his confusion. “Ranpo-san said it seemed like they were us, brought from another reality. When Dazai-san dispelled the ability, they stayed. So, Ryuu and I…” he shot an undisguised, fond look at the other Akutagawa that made his skin crawl, “we decided to raise them. Make sure they grew up safe and protected from anyone who’d try to use our abilities to do harm.”

Akutagawa turned this over in his head for a moment. He could at least see the weretiger doing this, but himself? Ridiculousness. “And you didn’t at least change their names?”

When the weretiger shrugged at him, he snorted. “Incredible that I would be so taken by you, do you have nothing but fluff between your ears?”

“You’re the one who put a ring on it,” Atsushi said smartly, holding up his left hand, but was distracted when his phone vibrated on his lap. “Oh, good news at least. Dazai-san will be at the party. They just might be late.”

“What’s the over/under on the appropriateness of his costume this year?”

“I don’t take bets with you; we share a bank account.” Atsushi glanced up at Akutagawa, who was watching the conversation with detached interest. “Last year Dazai-san came wearing only bandages,” he explained, and then shook his head. “Most people at least wear shorts under the bandages if they’re dressing as a mummy….”

“Most people also don’t attempt to fling themselves out the fifth-floor window when left to their own devices and the liquor unattended.”

“This is also true.” Atsushi scrolled through his phone for a second, clearly looking for proof that Akutagawa did not request but then got distracted, pulling up a picture and showing the phone to Akutagawa. It was a picture of the children, wearing their school uniforms and standing in front of a gate, looking proud of themselves.

Akutagawa stared at the picture and then looked at Atsushi, who was clearly beaming; and felt a weird twinge. He sat back in his seat, arms folded.

“I’m hungry,” Acchan complained from the table. “When are we gonna eat?”

Atsushi looked across the room at the other Akutagawa, and they did that silent communication thing again. “I forgot,” Atsushi said. “We were supposed to pick up groceries after we were done costume shopping.”

“I mean,” the other Akutagawa said, hands on the back of Ryuu-chan’s chair. “Things did take a turn on us.”

There was a pause, and Acchan said in the most dramatic, horrified, I’m dying voice a child had ever mustered, “No dinner!?”

=====

Akutagawa remained seated on the couch while his twin ordered dinner, Acchan circling his legs like a cat that hadn’t been fed in days. “He would eat us out of house and home if we let him,” Atsushi commented, noticing Akutagawa watching Acchan. “He’s never had sleep for dinner, though he tries to make you believe otherwise.”

That strange twinge again. Akutagawa looked at Atsushi, who was also watching Acchan, a fond, amused look on his face. Acchan had stopped circling Akutagawa, grabbed his toy rapier off the table, and zig-zagged it through the air.

It was, Akutagawa hated to admit, fascinating to watch this dynamic. As much as he loathed the weretiger he could respect that they at least worked well together, but to see that teamwork employed in something as mundane as wrangling kids to clean up for dinner was…something he’d never imagined.

Atsushi walked past, shouting something to the other Akutagawa, who was out of earshot through the kitchen. Now alone, Ryuu-chan took the opportunity to sneak over, staring at Akutagawa all the while.

Akutagawa stared down at this tiny version of himself; well-fed, in clean clothes, groomed and healthy. A proper childhood lay ahead of him, and he felt a small spark of envy for this child.

“Who are you?” Ryuu-chan asked him solemnly, grey eyes sharp.

Akutagawa stared imperiously down at him, but the child didn’t flinch from his gaze. He instead studied Akutagawa closely. “You look just like me and Dad,” he said. “But you’re not his brother, and you have the same ability as us. No one has the exact same ability.”

Akutagawa’s mouth quirked. “So who is it you think I am then, boy?”

“You’re me,” Ryuu-chan said it with no hesitation, a frown on his face while he contemplated this. “But you’re mean, and you made dad bleed.” His green sweater rippled with color, his own Rashomon rising from its threads, and his tiny face twisted, eyes flashing with just a hint of red. “Don’t hurt Dad again.”

“Ryuu-chan!” An enormous black Rashomon head plucked Ryuu-chan up by the sweater, scruffing him like a kitten. His green Rashomon collapsed into his clothing immediately, abashed. “Leave him alone,” his twin said severely, and Ryuu-chan darted another look at Akutagawa before nodding obediently.

Dinner was chaotic and loud, a spectacle all on its own. Akutagawa remained on the couch and observed from afar, a barely touched plate sitting by his knee on the table as he watched the family eat together at the table.

If he so wanted, he could strike at them easily, unguarded as they were. Atsushi’s back was to him, distracted by arguing with the other version of himself. He was more concerned with making sure Acchan didn’t inhale all the food before anyone else had their fair share of the portions; Atsushi said something in aggravation and his twin laughed. It was free and joyful and as unguarded as anything else happening at the moment.

He could strike at them, but he found he didn’t want to.

Akutagawa looked away, down at the portion of food on his plate he hadn’t touched. Atsushi had handed it off to him casually, unafraid, more concerned with the children than their uninvited guest. He despised the weretiger immensely but couldn’t bring himself to act upon it. He had struck an accord with himself, and like the man said he kept to his word. It was the fact that he didn’t want to that disquieted him the most.

Acchan had finished his vacuum cleaner impersonation and emptied the boxes of leftovers and now zeroed in on Akutagawa’s plate. He bounced over to the couch, put his hands on Akutagawa’s knee, and said, “If you’re done, I’ll take your plate!”

“Have at,” Akutagawa said, and Acchan sprung upon it. Atsushi sighed and got up from the table, and Akutagawa looked at him. “Tell me, are you a bottomless pit as well, weretiger?”

“He is,” his twin confirmed. “He just hides it better. Can’t keep anything in the refrigerator overnight, it’ll be gone by morning.”

“Hey,” Atsushi said, insulted. “I have better self-control than that.”

“Do you?” both Akutagawa and his twin said at the same time, and they looked at each other, surprised—his twin exhaled in amusement, while Akutagawa was horrified.

Atsushi ignored them both, touching the top of Acchan’s head. “If you’re so intent on cleaning everyone’s plates, Acchan, you get to do the dishes tonight.”

“Mwha?” Acchan’s dejection was muffled by his mouth full of bread.

“I can wash dishes,” Akutagawa said before he caught himself. Atsushi looked at him, startled, but Acchan put both his hands in the air, victorious.

“Yes! Thank you, ‘niisan!” Acchan ran his plate into the kitchen and disappeared up the stairs, presumably to get changed into his costume.

Akutagawa awkwardly stood in the kitchen with his twin, still entirely confused as to why he volunteered for this. He didn’t end up doing the washing but drying instead, while Atsushi stepped away to supervise the children changing into their costumes.

“Is it always like this?” he asked finally, tone strangely subdued. He didn’t know what this was, but when he looked up from drying the plate in his hands it was to his own face, looking softly amused.

“Never a dull moment,” his twin said, with a fond tinge to his tone that Akutagawa didn’t recognize, as he’d never used it. He rinsed another plate and handed it to Akutagawa. “I hope one day you’ll find your own peace, with the weretiger or otherwise. It is hard to achieve, but it’s worth it.”

Akutagawa shook his head, still drying the plate and refusing to look at him. “It’s nothing someone like me deserves.”

“Maybe not.” Akutagawa’s other self turned off the faucet, draining the sink. “But those kids deserve safety and security. I can’t atone for everything I’ve done, but I can be a better person for them.”

Akutagawa finished drying the drinkware as his twin left to go change as well, leaving him alone in their house for the first time since he’d arrived. Akutagawa lined the cups on the counter and stared at them for a moment; four different cups, two hardy plastic and two dinged but well-used glasses.

He looked around the kitchen, at the appliances and cupboards; scuffs and dents, a small chunk of plaster missing from the drywall around child-height, a faded scorch mark on the wall behind the stove.

Then he folded the dishtowel he’d been using for drying over the edge of the sink and returned to the main room.

Acchan was already there waiting, in a cape and a mask on his face, wearing a large-brimmed hat with a rakish tilt. “Look,” he said, drawing his toy sword from the red sash around his waist and flicking it around in the air, before jumping on the couch.

Rashomon reacted before Akutagawa did; but instead of tendrils darting out to skewer, they were blunted, batting at the toy sword, giving Acchan something to fence. “Acchan!” Atsushi yelled, seeing Rashomon’s movement—but halted just around the corner, a hat in both hands. Akutagawa looked at him impassively, allowing Rashomon to collapse back into his coat, and Atsushi squeezed the hat, giving Akutagawa a long look.

“Dad, you���re yelling a lot tonight,” Acchan said, one hand on the back of the couch, feet firmly on the cushions.

“Yeah, well, you know you’re not supposed to jump on the furniture,” Atsushi said, waving the Stetson at him like he was a misbehaving farm animal. “Come on, leave him alone, we’re almost ready.”

“But ‘niisan doesn’t have a costume,” Acchan protested.

“I do,” Akutagawa said dryly. When Acchan looked back at him, eyes wide, Akutagawa tugged on his collar, making it stand up properly. “I’m a mafioso.”

“Chuuya-oji is a mafioso,” Acchan said dismissively. “That’s not a costume.” Atsushi choked, covering his mouth with one hand to not laugh out loud and ignoring Akutagawa’s glare as he moved past. “Oh! I know!”

Acchan disappeared back the way he’d come as Ryuu-chan and his father emerged from the stairwell. Ryuu-chan was wearing an Inverness cape and a deerstalker, clutching a comically large magnifying glass; while Akutagawa’s twin was wearing a dark cape with purple lining over regular clothing and a tall, soft-looking floppy hat with a wide brim.

“Wizard?” Akutagawa asked, and Ryuu-chan shook his head negatively.

“Father’s a witch,” he said forcefully, and his twin gave Akutagawa a pained look, having clearly been through this many times.

Acchan tumbled down the stairs behind them, a blur of motion and holding aloft something in one hand. “Here, here!” he said, waving it before Akutagawa could identify the object. “You can be a vampire since you look like one already!”

The other Akutagawa covered his mouth and started coughing obnoxiously loud, clearly trying to stifle straight-up laughter. Akutagawa ignored him as Acchan deposited the item, now revealed to be a set of flimsy plastic fangs, into Akutagawa’s open hand.

“You know,” he said, pointing at his twin, “he used to dress like me.”

Acchan turned to his father, eyes wide. “Really?”

“Well, duh,” Ryuu-chan said. “We have pictures, ‘niisan.”

This response did not in fact help clear up the other Akutagawa’s coughing fit. Atsushi reappeared, now wearing the cowboy hat he’d been carrying and looking a goddamn ridiculous sight in his fringed vest and chaps. “You okay?” he asked, clearly concerned at the other Akutagawa’s coughing fit, and touched the small of his back. His twin nodded, finally getting his reaction under control.

They seemed to have decided that Akutagawa posed them no threat, as they walked in front of him. Rashomon had emerged from his twin’s cape, loosely wrapped around Acchan’s chest like a harness since he wasn’t interested in holding hands, and instead ran ahead, sword at the ready.

Atsushi and the other Akutagawa walked hand in hand, and Ryuu-chan held Atsushi’s other hand. They looked just like any family out for Halloween; dressed up in costumes and keeping track of excited kids, and they were holding hands. Akutagawa kept staring at that casual touch and wondering why it made his throat ache.

It didn’t matter why it made his throat ache.

They’d meet Dazai-san at this party, Dazai-san would negate this ability that was affecting him, and he would be home. It would soon be over, and this weird little family could go on and he could forget this ever happened, ascribe it to a bad dream, and move on with his life.

Akutagawa stopped walking.

Neither Atsushi nor the other Akutagawa seemed to realize, talking quietly with each other, in their own little world. Ryuu-chan noticed, though—he looked over his shoulder at Akutagawa, but didn’t say anything to his father. He waved his free hand, and Akutagawa found himself raising his own hand in acknowledgment, as the small family turned the corner and walked out of sight.

=====

The park that overlooked the bay wasn’t that busy after dark, which was fine. It was Halloween, there were events all over the city, it kept people busy and indoors, out of this frigid night air. Akutagawa folded his arms and looked out across the water, waves choppy.

He didn’t know what he wanted, now. He wanted none of this, but the way it felt like the first clean breath of air after drowning for so long kept haunting him. This wasn’t meant for someone like him, it never would be.

Akutagawa sat on a park bench and wondered if his absence had finally been noticed. Would they look for him? Or had he already been forgotten, the fragment of another life already lost?

He folded his arms, leaned his head back, and closed his eyes.

=====

“Did you sleep out here?”

Akutagawa opened his gummy eyes to see Atsushi standing in front of him, looking disgusted. He had both his hands on his hips and that accursed belt was jaunted out at an angle as if it were telegraphing its wearer’s emotions. Akutagawa blinked at him and scowled, then turned his head and coughed.

“I don’t recall asking for your opinion on my accommodations, weretiger,” he said, folding his arms again.

“Yeah, and I thought you weren’t a bum that slept on the streets,” Atsushi snapped back. “What the hell are you doing out here, anyway?” He paused, the irritation dropping from his voice for a moment, the concern he carried for others emerging. “Is everything…okay?”

Akutagawa’s eyes darted to his hands, but he was wearing his fingerless gloves. Akutagawa exhaled and slid forward on the bench, standing and refusing to let show how stiff he was. “I just had the strangest dream, is all,” he said. “It was a peaceful world. You weren’t in it.”

“Oh ha ha,” Atsushi said, but there was still concern in his golden-violet eyes. “Are you sure that you’re okay, Akutagawa?”

Akutagawa slid his hands into his pockets and managed to maintain his neutral expression when one touched a set of plastic fangs. Surprised, he curled his hand around them and rubbed his thumb over the blunted plastic point of a tooth, before letting out a vocal scoff.

“Don’t waste your concern on me,” he said, tilting his head back. “There are more important things for you to worry about, weretiger.”

Akutagawa glanced out at the pink-grey skies over the water, hand still clasped tight around the plastic toy, and headed home.

[scriveyner]

2023 Wrapped!

A total of 8 fics this year! And I just barely hit my resolution of 150k posted. These stats are insane, by the way, utterly insane. I never expected anything to hit like smarch/kinktober did this year. Fucking wild.

After the jump is a list of the fics this year and a few thoughts on each. A big thanks to everyone for reading this year, and here's to a fic-filled 2024!

stop time, your hand in mine (文豪ストレイドッグス | Bungou Stray Dogs) (7,257 words)

First fic of the year, and the one that really and truly jumpstarted sskk² stories. I'd dabbled a little prior to this, but really the only thing that existed was the origin fic from 2022, when Acchan and Ryuu-chan were infants.

chase forever down (文豪ストレイドッグス | Bungou Stray Dogs) (70,985 words)

Holy moly, y'all love vampire fics. The amount of tags this fic got when Things Went Down in S5 still makes me laugh. This is my favorite fic of this year tho, because I had so much fun writing it.

southern air (文豪ストレイドッグス | Bungou Stray Dogs) (12,557 words)

Pure fluff exuding from every pore. Fun family shenanigans. I love writing sskk² it's just so healing.

crossing paths (文豪ストレイドッグス | Bungou Stray Dogs) (8,728 words)

SSKK will always be my BSD otp, but I love me some chuuatsu. Doubt it's the last time I'll write some, but I know its reach is limited.

the places we'll go (文豪ストレイドッグス | Bungou Stray Dogs) (5,022 words)

My sskkbb23 entry, of course more sskk². I really like taking SSKK and showing them possible futures, have you all noticed this, lol.

three minutes more (文豪ストレイドッグス | Bungou Stray Dogs) (49,900 words)

I honestly and truly did not expect this fic to juggernaut. I have a chat from before kinktober started being all, "well I don't think it will be as popular as chase forever down..." and y'all came in like a wrecking ball and showed me how wrong I was. I am so glad this hit and hit strong for people.

all the love in my heart (文豪ストレイドッグス | Bungou Stray Dogs) (4,428 words)

Technically this counts as more than one fic but I don't like to list typetriggers separately. Just a bunch of little bites of sskk² goodness, from kid sillies to adults getting their alone time.

so be good for goodness sake (文豪ストレイドッグス | Bungou Stray Dogs) (1,247 words)

If you can't tell I very much love writing kid logic, and Acchan and Ryuu-chan are just full of it. The best part about writing sskk² fic to me is watching how the characters have changed and settled into new roles in their lives. (And also trying to figure out what new chaos Acchan can kick up, that kid is indestructible and has no sense of self-preservation. Nor what is actually food.)

[iwamimimimi]

the places we'll go

Akutagawa wasn’t certain where’d he taken the wrong turn, but it came up quickly. He glowered at an unfamiliar street full of pedestrians, hands in his pockets as he stalked forward, intent on a mission. It wasn’t like him to get lost, but he was distracted as he often was these days, ruminating on the most creative way to eviscerate that miserable self-healing weretiger.

Continue on AO3 or after the jump:

The autumn air was crisp, not quite cold yet; but most people around him were dressed in long sleeves or pants, bundling against the inevitable drop in temperature when the sun finally sank past the horizon. They paid him little mind, which he preferred; but something just seemed off. The city streets around him had transitioned into more housing than commercial, and he had little business on this side of town.

Akutagawa went to turn a corner, intending to double back the way he’d come when he was nearly run down by an errant child swinging a toy sword.

Rashomon rippled, irritated from his shoulders as Akutagawa stared, surprised, at what looked to be the spitting image of the weretiger, only in child form.

“Oops, sorry mister,” the child yelped without even looking at him, even as an all-too-familiar voice shouted from along the road, “Acchan! Watch where you’re swinging that-!”

Akutagawa turned, taken aback but already preparing a snide remark about the weretiger’s secret lovechild when he locked eyes with Atsushi and froze in place. The weretiger’s stride faltered as well as they stared at each other, the moment stretching interminably long as Akutagawa’s gaze flickered from Atsushi to the small dark-haired child whose hand he was holding, and then over to himself, holding the child’s other hand and looking just as startled.

Time sped up, and everyone was in motion. “Acchan!” Atsushi roared, and the small version of himself turned, clearly startled by the tone, and finally looked up at Akutagawa, eyes wide.

“Dad?” he said, confused.

He caught the movement from the corner of his eye as his other self scooped the second child into his arms; Akutagawa turned to face them, coat spinning out behind him as Rashomon exploded from his coat in defensive tendrils. Before he could react one entire enormous tiger landed on him, taking him to the ground, teeth bared to his face.

Rashomon stabbed into the great white beast, through limbs and sides, drenching them both in blood but its weight was enormous, he couldn’t free himself from beneath its paws.

Blood splattered past his face and onto the concrete, and he felt his ribs crack under the weight of the enormous white tiger; he tried still to dislodge him—however, not even Rashomon deterred him, the growl echoing in his chest, hot breath blasting through his hair.

Black pulled at the edges of his vision; from the left he saw himself, holding the dark-haired child who looked like them both; this other him put his hand on the tiger’s bloody shoulder and said something softly.

Akutagawa coughed wetly, unable to parse the words through the blood rushing in his ears, and finally succumbed to the darkness pulling him under.

=====

Everything fucking hurt.

Akutagawa took a deep breath, took note of two cracked ribs that complained horrifically, and assessed before he even opened his eyes. He wasn’t restrained; heard no soft hum of medical equipment, and figured if he was dead, he wouldn’t hurt so goddamn much. Finally he opened his eyes and discovered, to his surprise, he was laid out on a couch, tattered black trench coat laid over him like a blanket.

Two pairs of eyes, one set dark gray and the other achingly familiar violet-gold, were peeking over the back of the couch at him. When the two sets of eyes realized that they had been spotted, both disappeared and two pairs of footsteps went thudding away, out of sight. “Dad, dad, dad!!!”

Akutagawa pushed himself upright, coat sliding off. He was shirtless, bandages wrapped securely around his chest—presumably to help with the cracked ribs—but they were not so tight as to restrict his already labored breathing. He pulled his coat around his shoulders as he sat up, Rashomon’s presence an immediate comfort, and the only thing familiar in this moment—until a second, enormous, red-eyed black Rashomon head hove over him from behind the couch.

He turned and saw himself, the two miniature versions of himself and the weretiger hiding safely behind his legs. Akutagawa stared at the children, perplexed, for a moment more, before raising his gaze and meeting his double’s eye.

The other Akutagawa said, “Upstairs, both of you. Now.”

“What?” the tiny Atsushi said. “No! I want to know—”

“You heard your father,” the weretiger’s voice came from out of sight, and after another long look at Akutagawa, both children slunk away.

Akutagawa took a deep breath, heart thudding in his chest like he’d run a marathon. “What the hell is going on,” he croaked, throat and mouth dry as the desert. “Who the hell are you?”

“I think that would be plainly obvious,” his double said shortly. “What’s less obvious is what you are doing here.”

The weretiger entered the room then; he was wearing different clothes from before but otherwise looked completely undamaged. His gait was strange, too; different from what Akutagawa was accustomed to, and it took him a moment to recognize it was that this Atsushi moved with an easy confidence. He wasn’t even bothered that Akutagawa was sitting here. He wasn’t seen as a threat.

Akutagawa hated him.

Atsushi was carrying a tray with tea on it, he set it on the low table in front of Akutagawa. “I made tea,” he announced unnecessarily. Akutagawa did not move, continuing to stare at his own twin, silent. Atsushi slid up beside his other self, but Akutagawa noted he did not present his back once. “Do you remember this happening?” he asked the man he stood beside in a low voice; as if Akutagawa could not hear them speak from this proximity.

His twin shook his head once, sharply, not taking his eyes off Akutagawa. “Not at all.”

“Do you think an ability…?”

“Why are you conversing so casually with the weretiger?” Akutagawa snapped suddenly, eyes alight, interrupting their conversation. “What is he even doing here, and who are those children?”

Atsushi stepped forward, eyes flashing with something he’d never seen in his own weretiger’s eyes. “I’m here because I’m meant to be,” he said, sharply. “The children are not your concern, don’t speak of them.”

“Weretiger,” his other self murmured, admonishing, and Atsushi tilted his head slightly in acknowledgment but didn’t look back.

“He tried to kill me in front of them,” he said, anger brimming brightly in his voice. “They’re going to be sleeping in our bed for a week.”

“Your what?”

Akutagawa watched his other self catch the weretiger’s elbow and pull him back. His touch was clearly a familiar comfort, not even a hair adversarial. It felt wrong to even see it, and Akutagawa shuddered, pulling his coat tighter over his shoulders. “If he’s me,” the other Akutagawa said, voice soft and firm, “he’s not stupid, Atsushi. Go sit with the kids, they need reassurance. Let me talk to him.”

Atsushi sputtered and looked between Akutagawa and his double. The look he shot Akutagawa was one he was familiar with and Rashomon acted without guidance, rippling in a red tinge from his shoulders, prepared for a fight.

Instead of engaging, though, Atsushi looked away. He took a breath, looked the other Akutagawa in the eye, and then walked back the way the children had disappeared. His twin watched Atsushi leave, and when he turned back to face Akutagawa his face was dark.

“You had best come up with a reason for me not to take your head for threatening my family,” his other self said in a low, cold tone.

“Why are you with the enemy?”

“The weretiger has never been our enemy,” his other self walked forward, looking down at Akutagawa with eyes that seemed lighter than his own. “I don’t care if you’ve figured that out for yourself or not; but as I have no memory of this encounter that means you are not my past.” He slid his hands into his pockets and leaned forward, threat written all over his face. “Which also means it will cause my life no harm if I were to allow yours to end.”

Akutagawa rose from the couch, facing his twin, Rashomon looming large from his coat and matching the threat display with one of his own. “Try it,” he urged, voice hoarse. “Shall we fight here, make a mess of this nice little home where you’re kept like a pet?”

His twin’s eyes grew hard. His own Rashomon almost overrode the impulse to do precisely that, but he stood firm. “If you are manifested from an ability, or are here because of one, it will simply take Dazai-san to reverse it,” he said finally. “You don’t want to be here, and we don’t want you here. Can’t we find an accord until this is resolved?”

It was a reasonable enough request, although Akutagawa wasn’t particularly interested in complying. “An accord,” he repeated. “I have no need to agree to anything with you, or with anyone. What benefit do I have to an accord with you?”

“The benefit,” Akutagawa’s twin said, slowly, enunciating, “is that I keep my husband from tearing out your throat for even the shadow of the threat you just posed to our children.”

“You’ve gone soft to not do it yourself,” Akutagawa hissed, Rashomon darting forward to engage—but that tendril was severed by a black as night Rashomon blade; almost faster than he could see. Startled, he took a step back, legs banging into the coffee table and spilling the tea across the tray. 

The other Akutagawa covered the distance between them, coming around the couch quickly. He got his hand in Akutagawa’s coat and their abilities thrummed together. Akutagawa froze, electricity prickling his skin, but his twin didn’t seem bothered in the slightest.

“Make no mistake,” he hissed, “I do not cower behind my weretiger. But I made him a vow, and I keep my word.”

They stared, eye to eye, breathing hard—and then his twin released him, took a step back, and folded his arms. He exhaled a shaky breath before meeting Akutagawa’s eye again. “Besides,” he said, the ghost of a smirk appearing. “I know you do not appreciate it now, but there is something delightful about him covered in someone else’s blood.”

The two Akutagawas stared at each other silently for a long moment as he turned the option over in his head. Finally, Akutagawa folded his arms and looked away. “An accord,” he said. “You shall answer any questions I have, and I shall not bring harm to the children?”

His other self nodded, pose mirrored, arms folded.

The quicker he got out of this absurd situation, the better. “Fine then,” he said. “You have your accord. Take me to Dazai-san.”

=====

This request turned out to be more complicated than he anticipated. “Dazai-san’s phone is off,” Atsushi said, seated across from Akutagawa on the couch and holding his phone in front of him with one hand, irritation plainly evident in his voice. “Again.”

“Chuuya-san just got back from France,” his twin said from across the room. He was standing at the table, supervising the two children working on homework. They kept sneaking furtive glances at Akutagawa, and then looking back to their father. “What did you expect?”

“How is it he’s never around when we need him?”

“Dazai-oji is going to be at the party tonight,” the small version of himself said, his gaze darting from Akutagawa to Atsushi. “We’re still going…right?”

“Absolutely not,” Atsushi said, distracted, at the same time that the other Akutagawa said, “of course we are.”

They crossed gazes, amusingly, and Akutagawa took a sip of his tea, watching the silent conversation composed entirely of glares. Finally, Atsushi sighed, looked back at his phone, and said, “Yes, we’re still going.”

“Party?” Akutagawa enquired, although he didn’t properly care, the question was disruptive enough that it amused him. His tiny self’s head came up immediately.

“It’s a Halloween party,” he said enthusiastically before he could be shushed. “I’m going to be a detective, like father!”

Akutagawa raised an eyebrow. “Ryuu-chan,” Atsushi said in a warning tone, but then the other child’s head came up, holding his pencil in his hand like a weapon.

“And I’m gonna be Zorro! Did you see my sword?”

“Acchan—!”

“I’m gonna show him my sword!” Before he could be interrupted or stopped, the small version of Atsushi went straight over the table and dashed around the corner, striped tail trailing out behind him. Bewildered, Akutagawa looked over to Atsushi, who now had his head in both hands.

Akutagawa wasn’t certain how to phrase the question he wanted to ask, which rarely stopped but before he could the tiny Atsushi known as Acchan had returned, a familiar toy rapier in his hand. He bounded over the back of the couch with ease and sat next to Akutagawa fearlessly, proudly wielding his toy.

Atsushi’s head shot up, and he could see his other self start to move from out of the corner of his eye; as if he intended to remove the child from Akutagawa’s proximity. “See?” Acchan said, showing off the weapon. “It makes a whippy noise if you swing it around real fast but isn’t pointy at all!”

“I…see,” Akutagawa said, dryly, uncertain how to handle this.

“Acchan,” his twin said sharply, and Acchan’s enthusiasm wilted slightly. “If you wish to go to the party this evening, your homework must be completed.”

“Okay,” he mumbled, sliding off the couch cushion and retreating back to the table, sword still in hand.

“Where…?” That wasn’t the question he wanted to ask. Akutagawa inclined his head toward the table, as his other self leaned over and answered a question from Ryuu-chan. “How?”

“An ability,” Atsushi said, correctly interpreting his confusion. “Ranpo-san said it seemed like they were us, brought from another reality. When Dazai-san dispelled the ability, they stayed. So, Ryuu and I…” he shot an undisguised, fond look at the other Akutagawa that made his skin crawl, “we decided to raise them. Make sure they grew up safe and protected from anyone who’d try to use our abilities to do harm.”

Akutagawa turned this over in his head for a moment. He could at least see the weretiger doing this, but himself? Ridiculousness. “And you didn’t at least change their names?”

When the weretiger shrugged at him, he snorted. “Incredible that I would be so taken by you, do you have nothing but fluff between your ears?”

“You’re the one who put a ring on it,” Atsushi said smartly, holding up his left hand, but was distracted when his phone vibrated on his lap. “Oh, good news at least. Dazai-san will be at the party. They just might be late.”

“What’s the over/under on the appropriateness of his costume this year?”

“I don’t take bets with you; we share a bank account.” Atsushi glanced up at Akutagawa, who was watching the conversation with detached interest. “Last year Dazai-san came wearing only bandages,” he explained, and then shook his head. “Most people at least wear shorts under the bandages if they’re dressing as a mummy….”

“Most people also don’t attempt to fling themselves out the fifth-floor window when left to their own devices and the liquor unattended.”

“This is also true.” Atsushi scrolled through his phone for a second, clearly looking for proof that Akutagawa did not request but then got distracted, pulling up a picture and showing the phone to Akutagawa. It was a picture of the children, wearing their school uniforms and standing in front of a gate, looking proud of themselves.

Akutagawa stared at the picture and then looked at Atsushi, who was clearly beaming; and felt a weird twinge. He sat back in his seat, arms folded.

“I’m hungry,” Acchan complained from the table. “When are we gonna eat?”

Atsushi looked across the room at the other Akutagawa, and they did that silent communication thing again. “I forgot,” Atsushi said. “We were supposed to pick up groceries after we were done costume shopping.”

“I mean,” the other Akutagawa said, hands on the back of Ryuu-chan’s chair. “Things did take a turn on us.”

There was a pause, and Acchan said in the most dramatic, horrified, I’m dying voice a child had ever mustered, “No dinner!?”

=====

Akutagawa remained seated on the couch while his twin ordered dinner, Acchan circling his legs like a cat that hadn’t been fed in days. “He would eat us out of house and home if we let him,” Atsushi commented, noticing Akutagawa watching Acchan. “He’s never had sleep for dinner, though he tries to make you believe otherwise.”

That strange twinge again. Akutagawa looked at Atsushi, who was also watching Acchan, a fond, amused look on his face. Acchan had stopped circling Akutagawa, grabbed his toy rapier off the table, and zig-zagged it through the air.

It was, Akutagawa hated to admit, fascinating to watch this dynamic. As much as he loathed the weretiger he could respect that they at least worked well together, but to see that teamwork employed in something as mundane as wrangling kids to clean up for dinner was…something he’d never imagined.

Atsushi walked past, shouting something to the other Akutagawa, who was out of earshot through the kitchen. Now alone, Ryuu-chan took the opportunity to sneak over, staring at Akutagawa all the while.

Akutagawa stared down at this tiny version of himself; well-fed, in clean clothes, groomed and healthy. A proper childhood lay ahead of him, and he felt a small spark of envy for this child.

“Who are you?” Ryuu-chan asked him solemnly, grey eyes sharp.

Akutagawa stared imperiously down at him, but the child didn’t flinch from his gaze. He instead studied Akutagawa closely. “You look just like me and Dad,” he said. “But you’re not his brother, and you have the same ability as us. No one has the exact same ability.”

Akutagawa’s mouth quirked. “So who is it you think I am then, boy?”

“You’re me,” Ryuu-chan said it with no hesitation, a frown on his face while he contemplated this. “But you’re mean, and you made dad bleed.” His green sweater rippled with color, his own Rashomon rising from its threads, and his tiny face twisted, eyes flashing with just a hint of red. “Don’t hurt Dad again.”

“Ryuu-chan!” An enormous black Rashomon head plucked Ryuu-chan up by the sweater, scruffing him like a kitten. His green Rashomon collapsed into his clothing immediately, abashed. “Leave him alone,” his twin said severely, and Ryuu-chan darted another look at Akutagawa before nodding obediently.

Dinner was chaotic and loud, a spectacle all on its own. Akutagawa remained on the couch and observed from afar, a barely touched plate sitting by his knee on the table as he watched the family eat together at the table.

If he so wanted, he could strike at them easily, unguarded as they were. Atsushi’s back was to him, distracted by arguing with the other version of himself. He was more concerned with making sure Acchan didn’t inhale all the food before anyone else had their fair share of the portions; Atsushi said something in aggravation and his twin laughed. It was free and joyful and as unguarded as anything else happening at the moment.

He could strike at them, but he found he didn’t want to.

Akutagawa looked away, down at the portion of food on his plate he hadn’t touched. Atsushi had handed it off to him casually, unafraid, more concerned with the children than their uninvited guest. He despised the weretiger immensely but couldn’t bring himself to act upon it. He had struck an accord with himself, and like the man said he kept to his word. It was the fact that he didn’t want to that disquieted him the most.

Acchan had finished his vacuum cleaner impersonation and emptied the boxes of leftovers and now zeroed in on Akutagawa’s plate. He bounced over to the couch, put his hands on Akutagawa’s knee, and said, “If you’re done, I’ll take your plate!”

“Have at,” Akutagawa said, and Acchan sprung upon it. Atsushi sighed and got up from the table, and Akutagawa looked at him. “Tell me, are you a bottomless pit as well, weretiger?”

“He is,” his twin confirmed. “He just hides it better. Can’t keep anything in the refrigerator overnight, it’ll be gone by morning.”

“Hey,” Atsushi said, insulted. “I have better self-control than that.”

“Do you?” both Akutagawa and his twin said at the same time, and they looked at each other, surprised—his twin exhaled in amusement, while Akutagawa was horrified.

Atsushi ignored them both, touching the top of Acchan’s head. “If you’re so intent on cleaning everyone’s plates, Acchan, you get to do the dishes tonight.”

“Mwha?” Acchan’s dejection was muffled by his mouth full of bread.

“I can wash dishes,” Akutagawa said before he caught himself. Atsushi looked at him, startled, but Acchan put both his hands in the air, victorious.

“Yes! Thank you, ‘niisan!” Acchan ran his plate into the kitchen and disappeared up the stairs, presumably to get changed into his costume.

Akutagawa awkwardly stood in the kitchen with his twin, still entirely confused as to why he volunteered for this. He didn’t end up doing the washing but drying instead, while Atsushi stepped away to supervise the children changing into their costumes.

“Is it always like this?” he asked finally, tone strangely subdued. He didn’t know what this was, but when he looked up from drying the plate in his hands it was to his own face, looking softly amused.

“Never a dull moment,” his twin said, with a fond tinge to his tone that Akutagawa didn’t recognize, as he’d never used it. He rinsed another plate and handed it to Akutagawa. “I hope one day you’ll find your own peace, with the weretiger or otherwise. It is hard to achieve, but it’s worth it.”

Akutagawa shook his head, still drying the plate and refusing to look at him. “It’s nothing someone like me deserves.”

“Maybe not.” Akutagawa’s other self turned off the faucet, draining the sink. “But those kids deserve safety and security. I can’t atone for everything I’ve done, but I can be a better person for them.”

Akutagawa finished drying the drinkware as his twin left to go change as well, leaving him alone in their house for the first time since he’d arrived. Akutagawa lined the cups on the counter and stared at them for a moment; four different cups, two hardy plastic and two dinged but well-used glasses.

He looked around the kitchen, at the appliances and cupboards; scuffs and dents, a small chunk of plaster missing from the drywall around child-height, a faded scorch mark on the wall behind the stove.

Then he folded the dishtowel he’d been using for drying over the edge of the sink and returned to the main room.

Acchan was already there waiting, in a cape and a mask on his face, wearing a large-brimmed hat with a rakish tilt. “Look,” he said, drawing his toy sword from the red sash around his waist and flicking it around in the air, before jumping on the couch.

Rashomon reacted before Akutagawa did; but instead of tendrils darting out to skewer, they were blunted, batting at the toy sword, giving Acchan something to fence. “Acchan!” Atsushi yelled, seeing Rashomon’s movement—but halted just around the corner, a hat in both hands. Akutagawa looked at him impassively, allowing Rashomon to collapse back into his coat, and Atsushi squeezed the hat, giving Akutagawa a long look.

“Dad, you’re yelling a lot tonight,” Acchan said, one hand on the back of the couch, feet firmly on the cushions.

“Yeah, well, you know you’re not supposed to jump on the furniture,” Atsushi said, waving the Stetson at him like he was a misbehaving farm animal. “Come on, leave him alone, we’re almost ready.”

“But ‘niisan doesn’t have a costume,” Acchan protested.

“I do,” Akutagawa said dryly. When Acchan looked back at him, eyes wide, Akutagawa tugged on his collar, making it stand up properly. “I’m a mafioso.”

“Chuuya-oji is a mafioso,” Acchan said dismissively. “That’s not a costume.” Atsushi choked, covering his mouth with one hand to not laugh out loud and ignoring Akutagawa’s glare as he moved past. “Oh! I know!”

Acchan disappeared back the way he’d come as Ryuu-chan and his father emerged from the stairwell. Ryuu-chan was wearing an Inverness cape and a deerstalker, clutching a comically large magnifying glass; while Akutagawa’s twin was wearing a dark cape with purple lining over regular clothing and a tall, soft-looking floppy hat with a wide brim.

“Wizard?” Akutagawa asked, and Ryuu-chan shook his head negatively.

“Father’s a witch,” he said forcefully, and his twin gave Akutagawa a pained look, having clearly been through this many times.

Acchan tumbled down the stairs behind them, a blur of motion and holding aloft something in one hand. “Here, here!” he said, waving it before Akutagawa could identify the object. “You can be a vampire since you look like one already!”

The other Akutagawa covered his mouth and started coughing obnoxiously loud, clearly trying to stifle straight-up laughter. Akutagawa ignored him as Acchan deposited the item, now revealed to be a set of flimsy plastic fangs, into Akutagawa’s open hand.

“You know,” he said, pointing at his twin, “he used to dress like me.”

Acchan turned to his father, eyes wide. “Really?”

“Well, duh,” Ryuu-chan said. “We have pictures, ‘niisan.”

This response did not in fact help clear up the other Akutagawa’s coughing fit. Atsushi reappeared, now wearing the cowboy hat he’d been carrying and looking a goddamn ridiculous sight in his fringed vest and chaps. “You okay?” he asked, clearly concerned at the other Akutagawa’s coughing fit, and touched the small of his back. His twin nodded, finally getting his reaction under control.

They seemed to have decided that Akutagawa posed them no threat, as they walked in front of him. Rashomon had emerged from his twin’s cape, loosely wrapped around Acchan’s chest like a harness since he wasn’t interested in holding hands, and instead ran ahead, sword at the ready.

Atsushi and the other Akutagawa walked hand in hand, and Ryuu-chan held Atsushi’s other hand. They looked just like any family out for Halloween; dressed up in costumes and keeping track of excited kids, and they were holding hands. Akutagawa kept staring at that casual touch and wondering why it made his throat ache.

It didn’t matter why it made his throat ache.

They’d meet Dazai-san at this party, Dazai-san would negate this ability that was affecting him, and he would be home. It would soon be over, and this weird little family could go on and he could forget this ever happened, ascribe it to a bad dream, and move on with his life.

Akutagawa stopped walking.

Neither Atsushi nor the other Akutagawa seemed to realize, talking quietly with each other, in their own little world. Ryuu-chan noticed, though—he looked over his shoulder at Akutagawa, but didn’t say anything to his father. He waved his free hand, and Akutagawa found himself raising his own hand in acknowledgment, as the small family turned the corner and walked out of sight.

=====

The park that overlooked the bay wasn’t that busy after dark, which was fine. It was Halloween, there were events all over the city, it kept people busy and indoors, out of this frigid night air. Akutagawa folded his arms and looked out across the water, waves choppy.

He didn’t know what he wanted, now. He wanted none of this, but the way it felt like the first clean breath of air after drowning for so long kept haunting him. This wasn’t meant for someone like him, it never would be.

Akutagawa sat on a park bench and wondered if his absence had finally been noticed. Would they look for him? Or had he already been forgotten, the fragment of another life already lost?

He folded his arms, leaned his head back, and closed his eyes.

=====

“Did you sleep out here?”

Akutagawa opened his gummy eyes to see Atsushi standing in front of him, looking disgusted. He had both his hands on his hips and that accursed belt was jaunted out at an angle as if it were telegraphing its wearer’s emotions. Akutagawa blinked at him and scowled, then turned his head and coughed.

“I don’t recall asking for your opinion on my accommodations, weretiger,” he said, folding his arms again.

“Yeah, and I thought you weren’t a bum that slept on the streets,” Atsushi snapped back. “What the hell are you doing out here, anyway?” He paused, the irritation dropping from his voice for a moment, the concern he carried for others emerging. “Is everything…okay?”

Akutagawa’s eyes darted to his hands, but he was wearing his fingerless gloves. Akutagawa exhaled and slid forward on the bench, standing and refusing to let show how stiff he was. “I just had the strangest dream, is all,” he said. “It was a peaceful world. You weren’t in it.”

“Oh ha ha,” Atsushi said, but there was still concern in his golden-violet eyes. “Are you sure that you’re okay, Akutagawa?”

Akutagawa slid his hands into his pockets and managed to maintain his neutral expression when one touched a set of plastic fangs. Surprised, he curled his hand around them and rubbed his thumb over the blunted plastic point of a tooth, before letting out a vocal scoff.

“Don’t waste your concern on me,” he said, tilting his head back. “There are more important things for you to worry about, weretiger.”

Akutagawa glanced out at the pink-grey skies over the water, hand still clasped tight around the plastic toy, and headed home.