How To Heal: A Fragmented Shadow

Chapter 1: Fragments of Shadows

Chapter 1: Fragments of Shadows

The streets of Yokohama were an orchestra of motion, with the hum of distant engines and the chatter of voices blending into a low, rhythmic pulse. Akutagawa Ryuunosuke, however, was far removed from this life, an anomaly even among the city's peculiar undercurrent of misfits and criminals.

He stood at the edge of the pier, his figure a shadow against the dull glow of the harbor lights. His black coat, frayed at the edges and perpetually fluttering even in the absence of wind, seemed almost alive, as though waiting to be summoned into action.

His thin frame was hunched slightly forward, his pale skin appearing almost translucent under the moonlight. His sharp, angular features were framed by jet-black hair with white tips and strands that fell unevenly around his face, casting shadows across his cheeks. He coughed into his hand, the sound sharp and ragged—a reminder of the sickness that gnawed at him from within. The illness was a constant, unyielding companion, and one of the many reasons he abstained from indulgences like smoking.

Akutagawa didn't know why he had arrived so early. He wasn't one to linger in places where he might be noticed, yet here he was, waiting. Waiting for you.

He hated how you could do this to him.

Dazai had always said that sentiment was a weakness, a crack in the armor of a soldier, and Akutagawa had believed him. He'd carved himself into a blade for Dazai's approval, enduring every slight, every harsh word. Yet now, he was beginning to understand a different kind of vulnerability—the kind that came with you.

He had expected his attachment to you to be like everything else in his life: painful, fleeting, and ultimately hollow. But you had been kind in a way he didn't understand, a way that made him feel unworthy and desperate all at once.

When he heard your voice calling his name, it sliced through his brooding thoughts like a knife.

"Akutagawa."

You approached him with a calm ease, the way someone might approach a stray cat—slowly, carefully, as though afraid to spook him. And perhaps you were right to. Akutagawa turned toward you, his gaze sharp and assessing, his body instinctively tensing. Even now, his instincts were hardwired for combat, and it frustrated him that you could see through it so easily.

"You're early," you said, tilting your head slightly, your expression soft but curious.

"So are you," he replied curtly, his voice low and raspy.

You smiled, the kind of smile that made his stomach twist in a way he didn't know how to handle.

"I didn't want to keep you waiting," you said simply.

He huffed, crossing his arms over his chest in an attempt to shield himself from the warmth of your words. "I don't wait for anyone, I was merely viewing my surroundings."

"Liar," you said, your tone playful but not mocking.

He wanted to snap back, to tell you not to assume things about him, but he found he couldn't. Not with you looking at him like that, your eyes filled with an earnestness he wasn't used to.

The two of you walked along the pier, the city lights reflecting in the water like scattered stars. Akutagawa kept his hands tucked into his pockets, his strides short but purposeful. Despite the tension in his posture, he stayed close to you, close enough that your shoulder brushed against his occasionally.

"Have you been resting?" you asked after a while, breaking the silence.

He stiffened at the question, his thin brows furrowing. "That's none of your concern."

"It is," you countered, your voice firm but gentle. "You push yourself too hard, all the time."

He stopped walking, turning to face you with a glare that was more defensive than threatening. "I'm not weak."

"I never said you were," you replied, meeting his gaze without flinching.

Your calmness disarmed him, as it always did. He looked away, his jaw tightening as he wrestled with the conflicting emotions swirling inside him. He hated being scrutinized, hated the thought of anyone seeing the cracks in his armor. But with you, it was different.

As the conversation lapsed back into silence, Akutagawa found himself stealing glances at you. You had a way of looking at the world that baffled him—a way of seeing beauty in things he would have dismissed as inconsequential.

For so long, he had lived in a world of survival, where strength was the only currency that mattered. Dazai's approval had been his guiding star, the thing he'd bled and fought for. But you had shown him something else, something terrifying and fragile: the idea that he could be more than just a weapon.

"I've been... trying," he admitted suddenly, the words tumbling out before he could stop them.

You turned to him, surprised but not judgmental. "Trying what?"

"To... rest," he said awkwardly, his voice barely above a whisper. "To stop pushing so hard."

Your expression softened, and for a moment, he thought you might say something patronizing. But you didn't.

"That's good," you said simply. "I'm proud of you."

The words struck him like a physical blow, leaving him momentarily stunned. He didn't know what to do with them, didn't know how to reconcile the warmth spreading through his chest with the years of cold indifference he'd endured.

The two of you ended up sitting on the edge of the pier, your legs dangling over the water. Akutagawa kept a careful distance at first, but gradually, he allowed himself to inch closer. When your hand brushed against his, he didn't pull away.

For a long time, neither of you spoke, the silence filled only by the sound of the waves lapping against the pier. Akutagawa's mind was a tempest of thoughts, but for once, he didn't feel completely alone in it.

He still didn't know how to be what you deserved. He still carried the weight of his failures, still struggled with the anger and pain that had defined him for so long. But as he sat there beside you, he thought that maybe—just maybe—there was a part of him that could heal.

And for you, he would try.