"Where's your tanabata wish?" Atsushi said, holding a brightly colored piece of paper in both hands. He was leaning forward slightly, staring intently at Akutagawa, who didn't look anything other than put out at the attention he'd drawn. "Akutagawa!"
(more) This wasn't a date. This was total coincidence, them just meeting at the shrine during the festival and wasn't, perhaps, orchestrated in the slightest by a meddling, bandage-wasting machine who was probably lurking behind a stall and watching them like the pervert he was.
"People like me don't get wishes," Akutagawa said severely, and Atsushi frowned at him. It was a full-body frown, nose scrunched up and brow furrowed, and he leaned forward /again./ Akutagawa held his ground though, unaffected.
"Everybody gets a wish," Atsushi said. "Kunikida-san said so."
"He's wrong." He didn't know why he was arguing, or even remaining here. Something compelled him, at least - the same thing that compelled him to keep his attention on Atsushi. Akutagawa cocked a smirk. "So what is your wish then, were-tiger?"
Atsushi, who had been leaning closer all the while, suddenly took an enormous step back, paper envelope tucked to his chest. "If I share it it won't come true!"
"You are such a child." Rashomon slipped around Atsushi, and plucked the paper out of his hands before he could react. Atsushi yelped as Rashomon slid back to Akutagawa, unfolding the paper.
There was a flash of blue, and Rashomon's head disappeared, struck through with tiger claws. Atsushi's eyes had gone gold, and he held the paper again in the hand that hadn't grown claws sharp as diamond. "If I tell you," he hissed, "it won't come true."
Akutagawa remained outwardly unaffected by the display, but he had glimpsed the awkwardly-written kanji. "Whatever you say," he said, and turned to leave.(less)