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Some say the world will end in fire,
Some say in ice.
From what I’ve tasted of desire
I hold with those who favor fire.
But if it had to perish twice,
I think I know enough of hate
To say that for destruction ice
Is also great
And would suffice.
- Robert Frost
Akutagawa Ryunnosuke was no stranger to death. Unlike most, he had walked hand in hand with death his entire life. Watched it take his friends in the cold of the night. Witnessed it at the bloody end of his blades. Felt the rot of it growing within his own lungs. For every step he had taken in life, death had not been far behind.
Even more than that, Akutagawa knew what it felt like to die. He remembered it. The blistering heat, the scorched air, the blazing wall of flames that scattered him into the darkness as ash on the wind.
His time on Standard Island was brief and brutal, an experience that would have ruined any lesser man. But for the black hellhound of the Port Mafia, the memory of one's own demise brought a twisted sense of comfort. A lesson. There was no need for one to fear pain or manner of death when they had already suffered through the trial themselves. Had stared into the reaper’s face and laughed.
And besides, a person who had lived their life hand-in-hand with death such as him should not be surprised to find the flames of hell licking at their heels.
The memory of those flames rose unbidden in Akutagawa's mind, once again standing on a ship beneath the bright blue sky and tracking the movements of a foolish and incredibly annoying weretiger. He could see Standard Island floating in the distance, its towering spires and monumental size looming over him like an ominous warning.
Akutagawa mentally cursed Dazai as the reason he was in these conditions again, and himself for accepting the job. When he had been summoned, he had gone without hesitation, recognizing the significance of the forest where Dazai requested to meet. Akutagawa hoped that this was the moment he’d finally gain the recognition and approval he so desired, that his former mentor would finally recognize the strength he’d gained since his departure from the mafia. But when he learned he’d only been given the task of being Dazai’s eyes and to track the weretiger, Akutagawa’s anger and frustration only grew. He’d never been quiet about his distaste for the Agency, and Dazai’s insistence of forced proximity between his two protégés infuriated him to no end. But when he tried to refuse him, Dazai had simply reminded him of exactly why Akutagawa was so eager to arrive in the first place.
You know the reason yourself, don't you?
And so, begrudgingly, Akutagawa agreed.
He had been trailing the weretiger from a distance since then, following him and that arrogant detective onto the luxury liner where he found himself now. Disguised as a security guard, Akutagawa stood by the railing and stared out over the waves, restless, assaulted by memories, and mood worsening by the second.
He could not deny he’d been plagued by a strange feeling since the island appeared on the horizon. An uncomfortable weight had settled in his stomach and a heat had begun to crawl across his neck. The sun's glare beat down on his skin, and with the ocean air scraping against his lungs, the whole affair was just as hot and unpleasant as it was before. Akutagawa wanted to believe that the cause of his discomfort was something as inconsequential as the weather, but the feeling lingered.
Perhaps it was the difference in circumstance that grated his nerves. The first time Akutagawa had been to Standard Island, everything had been so black and white for him; kill the weretiger, gain Dazai’s approval, and leave satisfied. He had completely abandoned his original mission in favor of hunting the weretiger down. But something inexplicable had changed between them since then, and it frustrated Akutagawa to no end. And this time, no matter what happened, he’d been ordered to keep him alive. He was somehow crucial to Dazai’s scheming plan, and yet needed Akutagawa to be assigned as his guard dog. It was maddening.
Akutagawa glared at the island again, the heat and unease persisting. It's possible that it was a warning, a reminder of what he once suffered. Of what was waiting to meet him at his end.
A memory flickered at the back of his mind. Akutagawa heard his own voice, words he had once uttered while ashore.
Remember death, for it is by your side. Beg it for forgiveness, for it is waiting for you.
He glared at the island a second longer before turning his gaze back to the sea. He did not need a reminder. He was well aware. But, nevertheless, it seemed the strange unease he felt was just unwelcome deja vu. Nothing to concern himself with.
A commotion of voices brought him out of his reminiscence. Akutagawa turned and saw passengers halted in their tracks, staring at a cloud of smoke rising from the bow of the ship. Smoke from a flare. He straightened, immediately alert. The other detective must have known he’d be here.
Throwing off his disguise, Akutagawa cast one final glare towards the imposing island in the distance, trying to settle the restlessness of his nerves.
The island offered no response.
__________________________
As much as Akutagawa tried to brush the feeling aside, the sinking in his gut grew heavier, the irritating heat now clawing its way up the back of his neck and down across his abdomen. Due in part to the bruising he’d just suffered and the ever mounting anger in his chest, his patience was wearing quite thin.
The weretiger had already been injured when Akutagawa arrived on the scene; down a limb and cowering in a pool of his own blood. He then had the audacity to seem offended at Akutagawa’s presence. It was pathetic, really.
Akutagawa had mistakenly assumed the battle would be over quickly, that the two of them might be able to secure a victory over their opponent together. He’d even said as much aloud, only wanting to motivate the weretiger so that Akutagawa himself could get off that damn ship and leave the other to his own demise. But his impatience had cost him, leading him to underestimate his opponent. Leaving him vulnerable to injury.
His body arced through the air, his attack outmaneuvered in the blink of an eye. Akutagawa managed to evade the loss of his arms, but from where he was in the air, he could not orient himself or gain a foothold to block another attack. Fukuchi shifted to strike again, and a flash of alarm shot through Akutagawa’s mind. I can’t dodge his next move in this position. I can't go on by myself. With no other option, he braced his body for the impact-
Instead of the cold stinging of a blade, something solid and warm slammed into Akutagawa, knocking the air from his lungs and his body out of the path of the weapon. That something was the weretiger, and Akutagwa had only a second to shout before both of them flew overboard. He saw streaks of silver among the swirling blues of the sea and sky before they crashed through a window and landed heavily, glass raining down around them.
Akutagawa was loath to admit he underestimated Fukuchi, and even more adverse to admitting the weretiger saved him yet again. Atsushi had called out to him in the middle of the battle, told him to duck, and Akutagawa had reacted automatically to the sound of his voice. He didn’t think or question it, his body just moved. It had saved him, but couldn’t help but get angry at himself. Why would he listen to the words of a coward? Why would he run? He couldn’t stand his own weakness.
He leaned heavily into the other boy’s side as they quickly moved through the interior of the ship, trying to steady his breathing, ignoring the pain in his every step. That did not bother him. The proximity of their bodies and the heat of the weretiger’s arms around him, though, were quickly becoming unbearable.
Atsushi shifted his grip around Akutagawa’s body, and the thin thread of his patience snapped, and he exploded in frustration.
“Unhand me!” he shoved Atsushi away from him, already whirling to face him with a fiery interrogation on his lips. “Why did you run? Our mission is to destroy him!”
“We can’t!” Atsushi started, but Akutagawa couldn’t bring himself to listen to the words he was saying. He was too busy attempting to get air into his lungs, to ignore the dull ache still spreading its way through his form to care about the paltry bullshit excuse the weretiger had for fleeing. It's the same cowardly act from him every time and Akutagawa had enough of it.
“I refuse,” Akutagawa cut him off. “Even if it crushes every bone in my body, I will defeat him.”
Atsushi stared at him in bewilderment and anger. “Why?!”
“Because if I don’t!” Akutagawa shouted, hand darting out to snatch up Atsushi’s collar, yanking him forwards. “It's back to being Dazai’s unwanted goods again!”
The confession echoed around the two of them as they stared each other down in the empty hallway. Atsushi hadn’t moved to retaliate when he was snatched up, but the gold of his eyes glinted dangerously in the dim lights. Akutagawa realized too late that his face was uncomfortably close. He didn’t like the way the weretiger was looking at him. Shock, with a disgusting hint of pity.
Akutagawa wanted to actually throttle him. Years. He had spent years of his life under Dazai’s guidance. Had shaped his entire life around the whims of that man just to be discarded in the blink of an eye. Akutagawa had spent the following years questioning everything, searching every part of himself to uncover what he lacked, all to no avail.
“Four years ago…” he began slowly, “Dazai abandoned me. And then he switched over to you,” he shook Atsushi’s collar as he enunciated every word, “the new merchandise.” Akutagawa glared at Atsushi, who still had not moved. “That’s how I saw it, but….” He trailed off.
Akutagawa’s chest constricted. He wasn’t sure what to feel. Here he stood, holding the mirror of himself by the throat, someone he should hate, someone who it would be easier to hate, and yet… he faltered. For as long as they had known each other, Akutagawa had made it his mission to disregard everything that the weretiger had said. What would he know about Dazai? About his schemes, his plans, his intentions? What did he think he knew about Akutagawa, or what Dazai wanted from him?
But recently it had been getting harder and harder for Akutagawa to banish his words from his mind. He had spent so long thinking it was his own inadequacies that kept him from progressing, some herculean task that Dazai wanted him to perform that he could never manage to complete. The longer he spent with Atsushi, however, the more he started to doubt his own convictions. That perhaps Akutagawa had been wrong.
Akutagawa let the thoughts swirl around in his mind, his grip loosening on the weretiger’s shirt. Memories of the very first night he met Dazai clouded his vision. Maybe he truly had been wrong and this was all part of some bigger plan, a part of a meaningful life that had been started that night in the woods. A different trial than Akutagawa had originally thought. He released his hold completely, moving to turn away.
“A trial?” Atsushi’s voice cut through his thoughts. “That Fukuchi Ouchi?”
Akutagawa hadn't realized he’d spoken the words aloud. He turned to look at Atsushi over his shoulder and a memory flashed across his mind. One of another ship, another darkened interior where he and the weretiger stood face to face. His own voice rose like a phantom in his mind.
Your efforts deserve praise, weretiger. You are worthy of being my trial.
A trial. Back then, he’d seen the weretiger as merely an obstacle to overcome, nothing more than an opponent in his path. Back then, he focused only on the battle, the stage on which he would prove his strength. Back then, he had little regard for the lives of others, meaningless adversaries in the way of the true challenge.
He glanced back at the other boy over his shoulder, that strange, heavy feeling in his chest.
“Not him… but you.”
Akutagawa hardly had a second to think about what that truly meant before a shout rang out down the hall. A security guard came stumbling towards them. There was a quick feint, and then a pistol aimed at the pair. Shots rang out in the small space.
Akutagawa made quick work of him with rashomon, the man’s body slumping to the floor. Atsushi ran past him, and Akutagawa could hear the annoyed frustration in the weretiger’s tone. He began explaining the technique before the accusations began, assuring that the man would live. Akutagawa’s head hurt, his mind was still swirling with the memories of the past while trying to determine the best course of action for the battle that awaited them.
The weretiger was looking at him now, the gold of his eyes shining brightly in the lights. “Since we made that promise, you haven't killed a single person?“
Akutagawa felt a dull hot pain in his gut. He pretended that it did not sting, that it did not wound him in any way to think that the weretiger might have expected less from him. He saw Standard Island in his mind again. A long, dark hallway like the one they stood in now, full of shattered glass and sea water. Akutagawa pursuing the weretiger, tearing down anyone in his path. The anger settling in his core grew heavier.
He stared at Atsushi and answered steadily, hoping the sincerity of his words would not betray the turmoil happening in his mind. “Of course. I keep my promises”
They are interrupted again, more crew members pursuing them down the hallway. He can hear Atsushi scrambling for a plan of attack, but Akutagawa knows what they must do. He did not want to admit it, but he knows the combination of their two abilities is the key to defeating Fukuchi. That this is what Dazai saw all along. Not Akutagawa’s strength alone, but the two of them together. The strange anger in his stomach weighed him down as Akutagawa activated rashomon, the black fabric sliding off of him like water, reforming around Atsushi.
Akutagawa could not deny the sense of rightness in his mind. The coat fit like it was made for him, the black tiger claws extending from Atsushi’s hands were dark and devastatingly lethal. It still grated his nerves that he was incapable of rising to meet this opponent on his own, but Akutagawa knew their best chance was to tackle this together.
The heat rose up on his neck again, and Akutagawa shook his head. He had spent too long dwelling on the past. The two bicker about their strategy for a moment, and then, coming to an agreement, head up into the heat of the sun once more.
_______________
There are certain moments that will live with us forever.
Until the day he dies, Akutagawa will never forget that fateful night that he met Dazai. He will never forget the moment he transformed from a little beast to a human with emotion, with a master, with the promise of a reason to live. Those memories were engraved into his very being. They could not be forgotten, they could not be changed.
And they could never, ever, be replaced.
Akutagawa stared up at Fukuchi, at the false imitation he was presented with now and couldn't help but laugh. He was laying on the deck of the ship, bloodied, beaten, and bruised. The sun was setting in the distance, casting the world in a fiery color that he couldn’t quite feel the heat of. Akutagawa’s head was spinning. He had lost a fair amount of blood, and any burning pain he might have felt from his injuries was offset by the icy numbness creeping in through his fingers. Despite his weakened state, he knew Fukuchi’s offer was a load of bullshit. He even told him as much.
“There’s no guarantee you’ll stick to your promise.”
Fukuchi stared at him with a solemn gaze, hand sliding along the hilt of his sword. “By this sword and my fame as a hero, I always keep them.” His gaze lingered a moment longer. “Plus, there's a reason why I want to come to terms with you. There’s a job I want you to do.”
Fukuchi unsheathed his blade. Akutagawa tensed, suspecting that this was a setup for an attack. But Fukuchi merely raised the blade in the air. The sunset glinted off the sharpened steel as he leveled it in front of himself. The deadly point came to a slow halt, aimed right at Atsushi.
“Kill that boy.”
Akutagawa froze. The request shocked him, not at all what he had been expecting. He didn’t know if it was the blood loss or the shock, but he suddenly felt very far away. He was staring at Atsushi across the widening chasm of the deck, meeting a shocked expression that must have matched Akutagawa’s own. Akutagawa felt frozen in that instant, unable to move, unable to even breathe. Fukuchi wanted him to…..kill Atsushi?
He didn't realize Fukuchi was still speaking until he felt an arm under his shoulders and he was lifted up from the deck of the ship. His voice sounded next to Akutagawa’s ear, strangely distant and gentle
“Please.”
Akutagawa wanted to laugh. He felt as if he were going to throw up. Kill Atsushi? Yes. He’d been wanting to do that since they’ve met, made that stupid bargain just for a chance to prove himself against him. Akutagawa should be elated at such a request. Yet…that strange weight grew heavier on his chest.
He still lay there in shock, and sensing the tension in his form, Fukuchi prompted him further. “Hesitant? It’s not as if you’re here out of some moral duty to stop terrorism. Isn’t avoiding death your top priority right now?”
Akutagawa’s eyes widened. His priority?
Avoiding death had never been his goal. Akutagawa knew with certainty that he was not long for this world. His priority was what it had always been. Prove himself and his strength the only way he knew how: defeating his enemies.
His eyes remained on Atsushi. Defeating his enemies. There was a time when that was all he wanted. To defeat the weretiger, to prove he was above abandonment and replacement. But as he continued to stare across the deck to where Atsushi lay, broken and bloody, Akutagawa’s mind faltered.
As the thoughts swirled around his head, Fukuchi rattled off questions beside him, his voice grating against Akutagawa’s ears. “What's wrong? Don’t want to kill him?”
“Is his life that precious to you?”
Akutagawa felt as if the pit in his stomach would drag him through the belly of the ship and down into the waters below. Something began thrashing about in the back of his mind, a thought that should stay locked away in his thoughts. Akutagawa was suddenly assaulted by a memory instead, his own voice sounding in his head.
It isn’t hate. I cannot move forwards until I tear you apart.
A nauseating wave of deja vu swept over him once more. That day, that ship, that battle. Akutagawa, the weretiger, and a formidable enemy. He had been here before.
Akutagawa stared at the ground in front of him as a resolution began forming in his mind.
He knew the specific reason Dazai had sent him on this mission, the part of his grand plan of the two of them forming a new team. In spite of Akutagawa’s distaste, he knew to never doubt Dazai’s plans. He knew that the combination of their abilities would be able to turn the tide of victory. So, they must do what they have always done in the end.
He only had to make Atsushi understand that as well.
Fukuchi sensed he had come to a decision, and his hand rested on Akutagawa’s shoulder. The touch was revolting. “Very good. I knew we were both alike”
Akutagawa ignored him. “Stand, weretiger.”
Panic was written all over Atsushi’s face. “Stop! Do you really think he’ll keep his promises?”
The cold clamminess seemed to spread faster around Akutagwa’s form as he realized Atsushi believed he was being betrayed. “No. But I'll die if I don't obey.”
“You value your life that much?”
“I'm not afraid to die. What I fear is dying without Dazai’s acceptance.” Akutagawa emphasized the words, hoping their true meaning would travel across the distance between them. Atsushi, however, seemed to not budge.
“Stand,” he continued. “I promised that I'd kill you in six months. The schedule has just been moved up.”
I told you I always keep my promises, he wanted to say. I would not go back on my word now.
“Stop it! There has to be another way!”
“Yes, perhaps. But I will pick none other.” Akutagawa stared down at Atsushi. “To me, only your death gives any meaning.” The words felt strange on his tongue, a new heavy significance to them.
You're always like this!” Atsushi argued. “Why are you so obsessed over a reason for living?
“Because I am out of time!” Akutagawa snapped, the words escaping him in an angry shout.
He didn’t know who to be angry at. Atsushi for not being able to see through his ploy, or himself for giving Atsushi so many reasons to not trust him. Akutagawa honestly didn’t even know if anger was what he was feeling. The burning pressure in his chest was so at odds with the sharp knife he always held out towards the world.
And he was running out of time. Akutagawa could feel Fukuchi’s presence behind him. He had no idea how long the man would tolerate their bickering until he grew tired and attacked again. He must get Atsushi to realize what he intended to do. He had to get Atsushi to trust him.
“I have told no one… Akutagawa clutched at his own chest as the unspoken truth spilled from his lips,“but my lung disease won't let me live much longer.”
Akutagawa had never told anyone. Had hardly even admitted it to himself. It was a weakness, and he would not show vulnerability to anyone around him. As the confession settled between them, the ache inside him grew, and Akutagawa could at last grant it a name.
Shame.
Akutagawa did not lie. Here was the horrible truth. It isn’t hate, and that’s what he hated. He wished he could hate him. Things would be easier if he could.
Akutagawa used to have so much conviction to his actions. In battle, he forged ahead, hardly hesitating against any opponent. He knew what he wanted and he knew how to get it. Nothing could stand in his way. But ever since Atsushi had entered his life, the foundations of his worldview had begun to crack. The foolish bargain Akutagawa agreed to shook him up more than he thought. And it frightened him.
Akutagawa had always known the path he’d chosen, and had never tried to live in the light. But he also never thought someone would reach down their hand the way Atsushi was doing. It made him unsure of things in ways he never was before.
What if he had been wrong? Was he really capable of change? Why was Atsushi so certain that he could?
Did Akutagawa even want to?
Akutagawa tried to tell himself that it did not matter. That regardless of anything, he was still out of time. He had to walk himself to the end of this path that he’d chosen in order for it to mean anything. He tried to convince himself, but Atsushi had a very annoying way of trying to prove him wrong. There was something to be said of having one person in the world, one that you’ve continuously tried to destroy, keep telling you the things you’ve always wanted to hear. Laying in front of him now was one person who wanted to help him and all Akutagawa did was turn him away.
Akutagawa continued steadily. “So with what time I have left…” His eyes met Atsushi’s once more, trying to convey a thousand meanings within a single line. “I cannot afford to disappoint Dazai.”
Something in Atsushi’s eyes changed, and Akutagawa knew he understood.
“I see.”
Atsushi struggled to his feet. Akutagawa didn't know if it was the weight of his words or merely his insistence of Dazai’s approval that made Atsushi change his mind. Part of him never wanted to know.
“I’m sorry.”
It was not enough. Two words could never amend the weight of all that hung between them. He wasn’t even sure which part of their history he was apologizing for. Akutagawa only felt that it must be said.
He turned to face Atsushi. One step, then another. They lunged towards each other, beautiful and deadly. Akutagawa saw the familiar blue flash overtake the burning sunset around him. Rashomon slid from his shoulders effortlessly as their paths crossed. Black claws sliced through the sky.
And the sea was quiet once more.
_____________
Akutagawa had forgotten death could be this cold.
He lay on the cool metal deck, losing feeling in his fingers, fuzzy dizziness clouding over his mind. The sun was setting in the distance, taking with it any warmth he might have been able to cling on to. Fukuchi stood over him, a dark shadow blocking out the rays. Akutagawa suddenly felt like he was a small child again, standing in the frozen streets, staring up at someone much more powerful than him.
Their attack should have been perfect, the combination of their abilities creating the ultimate strike against their opponent. Yet, in their state, the two of them stood no chance against a weapon like that. Fukuchi towered over them, holding that god-like sword. Every word he said was like a bell tolling, sealing their fate. Akutagawa felt the brutal realization settle over his bones.
The sword moved slowly through the air, the deadly point hovering over Akutagawa's beaten form. Fukuchi’s voice, no louder than before, seem to thunder across the deck of the ship
“I ask you again. Before you die, do you have anything to say?”
The haze over his mind was growing thicker. Akutagawa glared up at his enemy. He did not want to answer, did not think he owed a response, but he needed to stall. He needed the right opportunity.
“I’ve given it some thought,” he rasped. “When the faltering flame of my life peters out….what should I say then?”
He struggled to his knees, memory and reality blurring around him. He was strangely very aware of the smell of salt in the air, whether it be the ocean waters or the mess of blood that coated his form and smeared across his face. Akutagawa half expected to look down and see dirt beneath him, to see stone arms reaching out to grab him. He took a shaky breath.
“But I was grasping at straws. I had no answer.”
He knew what he needed to do. In the battle against Gab, Akutagawa had chosen to push Atsushi forward, to awaken the tiger that had eventually earned them a victory. That is what saved Atsushi in every battle he’d fought, like a guardian spirit to watch over him.
Akutagawa had none.
“It was only a few seconds ago…”
His eyes finally drifted to where Atsushi lay.
Maybe this was what the skyline had been trying to tell him earlier. Akutagawa was always going to die on this ship. Maybe he had never really left Standard Island in the first place. Maybe he was still in those waters, and this was just a glimpse of the future he could’ve had, if only he’d known better. Maybe it was a second chance, an attempt to get it right.
Akutagawa didn’t really know. But if he had to perish twice, it wouldn’t be for foolish desires or his own hatred.
“..that I found one.”
He glared up at his final enemy. “There is no need for words.”
The fabric of his shirt began to writhe around him. White blades shot out around Akutagawa into the deck, stabilizing him. His death had chased him to this very moment, what else would he do but what he had always done?
“Only actions.”
A hole ripped open in the deck. White tendrils raised the ship’s fire extinguisher into the air. The bait. Akutagawa saw Fukuchi turn as if expecting it, and he knew with grim certainty his plan had worked. That heavenly blade passed through it like paper, and its wielder emerged from the smoke before him.
“Actions over words at this point? Well done.”
Fukuchi moved to strike-
.
.
.
It’s strange, the way the world seems to turn slower in moments like this, on the eve of one’s final breath. The dying glow of the sunset seemed to fill Akutagawa’s entire vision, the endless sky stretching as far as he could see. It was beautiful. Golden rays of sunlight splayed across the horizon, igniting the clouds in a fiery haze. Beams of light scattered diamonds across the ocean waves. The salty breeze that had once been so unforgiving now kissed his cheeks and ruffled through his hair. Akutagawa suddenly felt as if he were floating, caught in an unreal dream.
He did not see Fukuchi lift his sword. Did not see the icy blade descend from the heavens. Akutagawa did not feel the freezing sting as it sliced across his neck, nor the heat of his own blood spilling down his body. Time, wretched time, had come to a stop, and Akutagawa gazed at the scene before him.
Everything was different, yet the same. Akutagawa dying, the world bathed in fire. Atsushi before him, framed in light. Everything was the same, yet so different.
In the darkest hours of the night, Akutagawa had once let himself wonder. When Atsushi had been on that island, with that woman and her strange device, if he had turned and seen Akutagawa dying there, what would he have done? What kind of face would he have made? Would he have been shocked? Scared? Happy? Would he have stood there and just watched Akutagawa burn?
In his dreams, Atsushi didn’t care. He would simply let him burn, turn around as if he hadn’t seen anything, leaving Akutagawa to die. It was only in his nightmares that Atsushi would turn and drag him from the fire, would set a hand against his face and caress the flames away.
For all his wondering, however, Akutagawa never imagined that Atsushi would be looking at him like this. There was shock, yes, but it was overshadowed by immeasurable anguish as he watched Akutagawa struck down before him. As if Atsushi himself were the one being slain.
If Akutagawa could’ve laughed in that moment, he would've. At Atsushi. At himself. At the cruel joke the world seemed to be playing on him at the very end. To let him realize he wanted to live in the moment he chose to die.
Akutagawa stared at Atsushi, trying to memorize the lines of his face as the world slowly started turning again. Their eyes met, starless night against the ultraviolet sun. Akutagawa smiled. He had never felt so light.
“You damn fool, hurry up and go.”
The fire extinguisher exploded, smothering the burning sky in a cloudy haze. With what strength that remained in his body, Akutagawa carved a hole into the deck of the ship. White tendrils of rashomon weakly fluttered out, wrapping around Atsushi and pulled him to safety.
Through the mist, Akutagawa thought he saw a hand reach out, wreathed in the fabric of his own ability. For a fleeting moment, Akutagawa wondered if the hand would have been warm. A comfort against the aching chill consuming him now. A buried dream that was finally within reach. He pitched forward towards it-
His cheek slammed into cold metal, his body crashing onto the deck of the ship. He did not move again.
No, Akutagawa Ryuunosuke was no stranger to death. He has spent his entire life waiting to die, surrounding himself with the flames he thought would eventually consume him. But as the cool ocean air ruffled through his hair and cleared away the smoke, Akutagawa smiled, and let himself be carried away into the sunset with the clouds on the breeze.