Chapter Text
Enji…
A gust of cold wind shot past Enji—nearly throwing him off balance as he leaned on the park railing, watching the sunrise. He gazed off in the distance at the towering buildings, reminiscing on their beauty before the last battle with All For One. He sighed as another gust of wind blew past more softly—casting his short, prim hair aside. Enji gave the city a hard, confused look.
“How am I here…?” he murmured. Enji held his throat, face scrunched in more confusion; there was something different about his voice, it sounded younger, much younger than he knew he was.
Pulling his hands away from his throat, he extended them in front of him. He was even more confused now; all the calluses and scars that littered his once rough hands were replaced by supple rose tinted skin. He rubbed his fingers together, they were as smooth as a baby's cheeks—unlike the hands he remembered. He sneered, confused.
“What the hell is going on…?” He pushed himself off the railing then began patting himself down—even lifting his thick coat to see if his body was still the same. It wasn’t. Though he had some muscle it was clear his body was not the same one he remembered; his stomach and chest were pale—lightly toned—and his skin was as clear as day; no scars, nothing. He ran his hand across his torso in disbelief.
“Something is definitely not right,”
Light snickering came from behind Enji after a moment of him pinching his toned stomach. He turned to see two women stealing glances at him—whispering and snickering shamelessly. Enji cocked his head at them, before the jittering feeling of embarrassment blew over him. He quickly pulled down his coat with a small huff then stomped down the hill towards the city.
There seemed to be no abnormalities in the city—seemingly, no war had reigned here, ever. As the morning grew, people began dripping into the streets—continuing on their daily lives without much care. Enji wondered if the war had already passed, if he was somewhere in the future in someone else’s body. That’s probably what’s happening to him.
“There’s no other way I would be here if that wasn’t the case…”
Stuffing his hands in his coat, he wondered what happened after; what happened to the other heroes and if they’d won…what happened to Shoto. Remembering his son made his heart stagger, he wondered, and wondered of every possibility that could have happened after the war. How did Shoto live his life after losing him? Was he better off? Shoto’s face as he was dying flashed in his mind, he sighed deeply, yet it carried no relief.
He regretted—he regretted many things as he died…but why only as he died? A pool of guilt began filling his stomach causing him to pause and gaze at the floor blankly; as if he hoped the answers would be found in the tile cracks and margins. The question kept replaying in his mind, all to the point of making him sick.
‘Why was that the only time I regretted…why then did my wrongs weigh heavier on me?’
A newspaper then came and obstructed his view of the tiles—landing gently by his boots. The soft sound of the crisp edges fluttering under the gentle breeze was like a trigger, snapping him out of his depressive contemplation.
“Heya, young man, can you hand me that back please?” said an old gruff man. He was sitting on a stool outside a convenience store with craters of magazines, books and other literature. His spotted hands rested listlessly in his lap as he leaned forward to greet Enji—a kind elderly smile, resting under his thin mustache.
Enji gave the old man a small smile in return. Taking up the newspaper, he walked towards the old man, this somehow sparked a one-sided conversation between them.
“Ah, one of the nicer youngins, sorry to trouble you but since I turned sixty my back had been aching 24/7. My daughter suggests I go do muscle therapy but-”
Enji nodded along with whatever the man said, he had been prodded into random conversations by people back when he was younger so he wasn’t bothered by this; it was somewhat nostalgic. He took a glance at the paper before reaching to put it back in its rightful crater, but after registering the contents, he froze. One glance made both disbelief and anxiety crash into him like a wave; made all his lingering pieces of confusion snap into place. His face grew paler the longer he looked at the paper, his fingers gripping onto it like it was his lifeline.
“So when- Oh darn, are you alright young man? You’re looking a little paler than before,”
Enji’s eyes frantically searched the paper over and over, hoping the image would change. The woman on the cover, sitting in seductive eloquence by a window—red hair draped over the sundress straps falling almost limply off her shoulders—and thin finger to her red, agape lips was someone he begged his memory to forget. Shaking his head, he allowed his grip to slightly soften—fingers trembling as he gave it to the man with a small smile and bow in respect.
“Your welcome sir, I’ll be off now,” he quickly said, turning on his heel to speed walk into the convenience store.
The bell upon his entrance rang achingly in his ears, like church bells at noon. He quickly rushed to the far back of the store where no one could see him then carefully helped himself to the floor. He covered his mouth to muffle his anxious gasps.
“Bullshit…that shouldn’t be the case…”
He was wrong, no, he was right about one thing and that was that something was wrong. This whole situation…him being alive, his lack of muscle, it all was strange. That was one thing he knew he was right about.
Enji opened one of the freezers and snatched up a can; he couldn’t focus the frost painfully licking at his fingertips, the cold mist wisping across his palm, nor the bell jingling in the background, all he wanted now was a solid answer…and he found it. Printed under the can’s frost was an expiry date, a year he had long accepted to be a distant memory.
“35 years…” he put down the can to look at his hands again; his gentle, unharmed, clean-slated hands. “I’m 35 years in the past?”
He sat there for a moment, not knowing how to feel. He then turned his head reluctantly towards the freezer. There he was—a face he only recognized only in a distant memory—a 14 year old Enji sitting on the floor with an appalled expression. Under the warm light of the freezer, his supple cheeks, clear face and gentle jawline said all he needed to know. He was really fourteen again. He stared at himself a little longer before pinching his cheek for extra measure.
Just then a loud slam echoed throughout the store followed by a surprised yelp. He peeked at the commotion from behind a shelf. Two suspicious people in black coats stood threateningly by the cashier counter. One was large and the other slightly shorter—taunting the cashier with unintelligible but clearly threatening words. That loud bang was the bigger person’s arm, or what was thought to be an arm since where his arm should’ve been was an oversized machine gun.
“Look kid, if you don’t want to get hurt then you would just give us the money,” the smaller man mocked. “My friend over here has already shown you what he’s capable of, so just, hand it over”
The bigger one held up his gun for a hand towards the cashier’s terrified face then slowly began allowing the bores to turn as a warning. The smaller man snickered a little before turning on his heel to walk further in the store.
“Have fun~” he hummed—beginning to take things off the shelves and stuff them in his pockets. As he got around towards the back he noticed a can on the floor. He shrugged, picking it up and twisting it around to examine it. Stuffing it in his pocket, he called over to the other. “Hey, dude, hurry it up over there, I feel like robbing in peace today,”
The larger man nodded, his eyes were deadlocked on the cashier, allowing the bore to spin faster and faster—sparking impatiently.
BANG!