Chapter Text
In the week following Atsushi’s death, both him and Ryuunosuke stood by, watching as Stoker-san came back into the apartment with assistants, as they all began packing Atsushi’s sparse personal belongings into boxes that were shipped right away to donation centers around town. They stood by as they cleaned the apartment, tiptoeing around the bathroom with awkward limbs and uncomfortable faces, as they put efforts into refreshing the appliances and geared up for visits.
They stood by as nobody came to see the apartment, the local rumour mill having already warned off everyone about the building — Atsushi’s suicide had caused the resurgence of Ryuunosuke’s own death and they could now hear the people passing by on the street whispering about the ‘cursed apartment’ in the ears of their companions. It was silly to think about the way people were so scared of this apartment — for both Ryuunosuke and Atsushi, the apartment had been their saving grace, the reason they hadn’t given up, a safe haven compared to the rest of the world and yet, it was of this apartment that other people chose to be afraid of.
However, neither Atsushi nor Ryuunosuke felt particularly sad about the prolonged vacancy of the apartment. The absence of new tenants meant that nobody would care about the objects moving around, the sounds of the radio starting up by itself or the creases they left on the couch or the mattress. The sense of freedom that came with being trapped in the apartment just the two of them would have been ironic if it didn’t feel as exhilarating.
Things had been perfectly fine for the months they had spent alone in their apartment, enjoying their afterlives, losing themselves in each other as they often did — forgetting about the outside world as they remained hidden in the security of their own space — in their addictive brand of push and pull, forever alternating between their constant bickering and clawing each other’s clothes off.
That was until Stoker-san found people willing to live in an apartment everyone else thought was cursed, people who did not care about the rumours carried by the wind and the loose mouths. After months spent away from everyone but each other, Atsushi and Ryuunosuke stood by as a lone father and his adoptive daughter moved in.
For a long time, Ryuunosuke remained far away from the new residents, often electing to stay out on the balcony or hiding in whichever room was unoccupied — he was not chasing them away, not like he had done to all the other residents before Atsushi and attempted to with Atsushi himself but he was not fond of seeing people invade their space and leave their belongings where he had been used to leave his.
At first Atsushi didn’t understand why Ryuunosuke was so against sharing the space with the living until he was in the same position as him. Atsushi had always been used to living with other people, from the orphanage to the shelter, he had grown accustomed to having a limited space and a limited amount of privacy. However, he found that sharing a space he had grown so comfortable in, a place where he had allowed the worst of himself to spill out after years of maintaining a smile, maintaining an image he himself was unsure of, was nothing short of disorientating.
Seeing the new tenants leave their marks around the apartment, moving furniture around, buying new ones and changing the decoration — it all felt distinctively invasive. Although neither of them could be seen by the newly arrived daughter and father unless they wished to be, it felt too much to have their space taken over by someone else. Atsushi wondered how Ryuunosuke had managed to not try to physically throw him out of the apartment if that was how he felt about his presence.
Atsushi had quickly understood the uneasy feeling that came with seeing the family of two become comfortable in between the walls Atsushi had walked mere months ago and he had been quick to join Ryuunosuke behind closed doors, fleeing from the living’s presences. They spent weeks hiding together behind walls and behind doors, Ryuunosuke brooding in a corner with a book or sleeping on the couch stretching in the sun’s light while Atsushi spent most of his time observing the newly arrived and learning their personal habits from further away — it was an instinct to learn other people’s patterns, even if he was invisible to them, he had gotten used to follow other people’s whims to avoid conflicts — it helped him feel safer and more secure inside the apartment.
Kyouka was a quiet girl, often lost in her own thoughts and she seemed to have no qualms about living in an apartment someone had died in barely a year before. She was only fourteen and yet, Atsushi had the distinct sensation that she was far more mature and intelligent than himself — he wouldn’t say it to Ryuunosuke because the other would probably try to murder him again, but he was sure she was more mature and intelligent than him as well. There was an air around her that seemed to carry both a childlike innocence and a more complex and wiser sensibility — something that was only exacerbated by the juxtaposition of the traditional red kimono and yellow kimono belt she wore and the white rabbit she kept around her neck as a necklace.
He had particularly enjoyed seeing her decorating the apartment, something her father didn’t seem very interested in, telling her to “do as she pleased” . Atsushi had watched her agonizing over every detail of her room, from the curtains to the bed sheet she preferred — down to the best arrangement for her plushies. There was a distinct sense of purpose behind every single one of her gestures, in the calmness with which she had taken the time to choose and dispose of all her belongings — Atsushi had found himself feeling strangely reverent when he had fixed a crooked frame she hadn’t noticed.
Kyouka’s delicateness reminded Atsushi of himself during his time at the orphanage — of the way he had treated each of his things, even if he really only ever had the uniform on his back and the old trinkets the Director had let him keep. With this kinship with Kyouka came the strong and sudden instinct of protection Atsushi had not known before, something ever so slightly wild and unruly that had taken him by surprise with its fierceness.
When he mentioned it to Ryuunosuke, the other had taken one look at him before shooting him one of his rare soft smiles, telling him that he had found his own little sister. It was a bit peculiar since she couldn’t perceive him in any way as long as Atsushi didn’t make himself visible to her but he liked this new title, this new responsibility — however feeble it was since Kyouka was clever and adaptable in her own right and Atsushi was bound to the inside of the apartment — and being in Kyouka’s presence as she did the mundane and daily things she needed to do became one of Atsushi’s favourite pastime, especially when Ryuunosuke indulged him and came to hang around them too.
The shared company, the sounds of Ryuunosuke turning the page of his book and Kyouka’s pen scratching as she did her homework warmed over Atsushi’s heart.
If Atsushi became fond of Kyouka rather quickly — much like Ryuunosuke himself and even though he would never admit it, the fact that he didn't mind sharing the space he was in with her spoke for itself — he didn't quite know what to think of Fukuzawa.
The man had a rather intimidating presence, a strength hidden beneath his usual stoic expression much like the currents hidden beneath still waters. From what he and Ryuunosuke had gathered, the man was a martial arts instructor who used to serve in the military but retired early for a reason they weren't aware of. Like Kyouka, the man seemed to prefer traditional clothing as he usually wore dark green kimonos paired with a black haori with yellow-golden details that matched Kyouka's belt.
For a long time, Atsushi remained wary and kept his distance from the older man — he knew all too well that men who appear good in every aspect are often the most dangerous. However, if his presence was intimidating, Fukuzawa was a man who did not carry himself like a soldier, tight-wound and severely like one would expect but more so like someone with a good head on his shoulders — someone who looked solid, dependable. On multiple occasions, Atsushi was surprised and taken aback by Fukuzawa because the calmness that exuded from the man took precedence over the usual nervousness Atsushi felt around him.
Atsushi started to revisit his opinion on the man when one afternoon he stumbled on him kneeling near the balcony’s door waving a dried fish at a cat standing on the outside table. Fukuzawa had the most serious expression he had ever seen him sporting and was waiting for the cat to come forward — he seemed to crumble a little bit inside when, instead, the cat chose to continue on his way and refused to come in.
The weirdest thing was the visible pout on Fukuzawa’s face as he remained in his position for a floating moment before sighing and walking away, putting the dried fish back in his sleeve as if nothing happened. Atsushi had stood there, watching the spectacle, bewildered. The idea that it was one of Fukuzawa’s habits based on the fact that he kept dried fish in his sleeves was almost inconceivable at first. But seeing the older man act like that had allowed Atsushi to see further than the first impression he had gotten of Fukuzawa and, much like he had done with Kyouka, Atsushi started paying attention to the other man from a safe distance.
Atsushi, in his quest to observe Fukuzawa whenever he was home, had listened to his conversations with Kyouka and kept a close eye on all his interactions with the young girl. From that point on, it became increasingly obvious that Fukuzawa was infinitely gentle and kind to people and animals around him, though it seemed like he had a great preference for his daughter and cats above anyone else — the man might have a face that rarely let his thoughts and emotions shine through but his actions spoke for himself. The man, who, as he learned through eavesdropping on conversations, had adopted Kyouka merely half a year ago, had been encouraging and funding Kyouka’s fascination with bunnies and collecting items depicting the animal in any way — he was the one behind the ever growing amount of bunny plushies piled her in her bedroom and bunny keychains scattered around the apartment. In a way, it seemed like Fukuzawa was intent to encourage Kyouka to fully be herself, allowing her to explore any interest she might want to try, attentively listening to her whenever she speaks and actively listening to her suggestions when he asks for her advice or opinion.
More than once, Atsushi had found the man sitting on the couch, letting Kyouka use his shoulders as a headrest before she inevitably fell asleep and he then had to carry her to her bed. As Fukuzawa sat down after tucking her in, he would take out her long ponytails before delicately passing a brush into her hair as carefully as possible to not wake her up — Kyouka always did, but she seemed to appreciate the attention so much that she never moved until after Fukuzawa was done and nearly out of the bedroom and only then would she wish him goodnight.
After that, it had become easy to no longer be wary of Fukuzawa — the man still held quite a presence but it remained smaller than the love he held for his daughter and it was enough for Atsushi to feel at ease around him.
Neither him nor Ryuunosuke expected to like having to share their space with both father and daughter, especially when it became increasingly noticeable just how much was changing around the place as they settled in the place that used to be Atsushi’s and Ryuunosuke’s.
Despite the loss of freedom that came with having to hide themselves from the humans’ eyes, Atsushi quite liked being surrounded by a loving family like Kyouka and Fukuzawa and Ryuunosuke, even though he had said nothing and had only shaken his head in fake-annoyance when Atsushi told him about, didn’t disagree and even came to appreciate Kyouka’s and Fukuzawa’s presences in the apartment like Atsushi.
Kyouka wouldn’t consider herself dumb and as such, she knew full well that the apartment her and Fukuzawa-san (Yukichi he insisted she call him but she had yet to get to that point — she would do so eventually but she was fine with Fukuzawa-san for now) were living in was haunted. When Kyouka and Fukuzawa-san moved into the new apartment he had found after having spent the last six months in his much tinier apartment, she had immediately felt their presence inside of their new home.
Kyouka came to know Fukuzawa-san around nine months ago when her friend Kenji took her to his dojo because he wanted to show Fukuzawa-san the cat they had both found in the park. The man was quite intimidating and Kyouka had worried about how he would perceive her but the delicate way he had taken the cat in his arms and had pet him calmed her worry.
Beyond the tenderness he held for felines and the passion for the art of wielding swords, Fukuzawa-san was perceptive and Kyouka didn't know how he had guessed it but after two months of them exchanging, usually with a cat to pet around and Kenji’s happy and delightful chatter in the background, Fukuzawa-san had offered to take her in and shelter her if she needed it. She had not taken him up on his offer until over a month later, when she had decided to leave the orphanage she had been staying at for the past years — Kyouka didn't want to lose her nerves and she had knocked on his door in the middle of the night with only a backpack and a small luggage bag filled with her belongings.
As much as both Kyouka and Fukuzawa-san said that he had adopted her, no legal documents proved it but the orphanage hadn't cared to inquire about her whereabouts and one day, a few weeks after her unprompted “adoption”, Fukuzawa-san came back home with a certification signed by the Director of the orphanage and that had been enough to enroll her into school.
Since Fukuzawa-san used to live alone, he had left his bedroom to her and had taken the couch for the time it would take for him to find a bigger apartment where they would both have their own private space. The search had taken him nearly six months but as soon as he found the apartment — a place rumoured to be cursed, murmurs on the streets carrying the scent of Death ; but it was big enough for the both of them and in good condition therefore neither of them had cared much about the rumours — they had moved.
If she were to be completely honest, the ghosts of this place had made it rather obvious. Their presences were everywhere in the apartment from the left behind and well-loved objects lingering around, the used door handles, the nails in the walls where frames and pictures were hanged to the heavy feeling of never truly being alone throughout the day — as if Kyouka always had someone to keep her company, as if a gaze beyond her perception could rest upon her form.
In fact, not only was their existence barely masked by the barrier that made them invisible to her eyes but the ghosts didn’t seem intent on hiding how involved they were in Kyouka’s and Fukuzawa’s daily lives. On a few occasions, when either of them didn’t pay attention to where they had left certain objects and were left searching for them around the apartment, the lost belongings would always magically reappear on the living room table — be it keys, plushies, documents, bookmarks or even old receipts, they would all end up on that table, sitting at the same place. Most often, they would return Fukuzawa-san’s lost paperworks as he had a habit of leaving documents scattered everywhere but on his desk.
Other times, Kyouka had seen her homework being scribbled on, a messy chicken-scratch completing the calculus sheets Kyouka never seemed able to work through and another handwriting, bigger and slightly curvier than what should be, correcting spelling mistakes on her essays and copying down sources and book titles that could interest her.
If that wasn’t enough, Kyouka had heard the whispers of their voices ; she was quite certain neither ghosts did it on purpose as it always happened when they appeared to be deep in conversation with each other — almost as if they were too occupied by the other’s voice to notice they had started to let their grip on their invisible barrier slip a little, their voices traveling around the apartment in soft murmurs.
The two voices had surprised Kyouka at first and she had looked all over the apartment with the sword Fukuzawa-san usually kept in his office only to come up empty-handed as there was nobody besides herself in the apartment. Except that wasn’t really true as the voices — one raspy and slightly cynical, the other soft-spoken and usually fondly exasperated — continued conversing with each other, the words blurry and intelligible. She had let them be, sitting on the couch with one of the books that was recommended to her, giggles and murmurs exchanged filtering through the opened door leading to the balcony.
Usually the voices alone were a sign that the ghosts were too busy with one another to care about the living humans around them, but when they would get truly lost in their world, dancing shadows appeared on the floorboards — two silhouettes, arms tangled together and fingers intertwined, swaying around in the silence, dancing to a music only they could hear.
Kyouka liked to observe them when they were like that, eyes following the movement of limbs, the shift of fabrics and the bounce of hair strands. Fascinated, she had drawn the figure of two young men laced together, all pitch black flowy lines and shadows in shades of greys, and had pinned the drawing to her bedroom wall ; the next day, two signatures had been added at the bottom of the page, a messy chicken scratch spelling ‘Akutagawa Ryuunosuke’ and a bigger and curvy handwriting spelling ‘Nakajima Atsushi’.
Kyouka never mentioned anything to Fukuzawa-san even if she was aware that he knew of the young men haunting the place as well. They were both unbothered by the existence of the ghosts as Kyouka was rather fond of the ghosts and the gentleness that lived in their silent gestures while Fukuzawa-san probably thought it impolite to kick them out of the home they had lived in — especially knowing how young the two young men were when they died, Fukuzawa-san would never want to kick them out — and as long as they seemed to get along with Kyouka, he wouldn’t mind.
He was the one that first proposed the idea of building a small altar in a corner of the living room — they didn’t have any pictures of either Akutagawa-san or Nakajima-san so Kyouka took the time to draw the shadows’ busts again and Fukuzawa-san wrote their names in traditional calligraphy under. They set a few candles, a large bowl for offerings and a smaller one to place incense sticks every now and then.
The first time Kyouka had prayed at the altar, once it was finally completed, she felt a small gush of cold wind, like a summer breeze, pass by her ruffling her hair and a small
‘thank you’
muttered behind her. She smiled — the altar seemed to have been a good idea going by the happy voices around her.