Chapter Text
The second time Akira encountered a person wearing that strange pin, his life was a lot different.
The average person might assume that the birth of a mystical, godlike other self out of his psyche, the ability to use magic, and a new outfit that was, frankly, the coolest thing out of all of those things would be the cause. But Akira wasn’t the average person.
He had been unable to awaken his new power until he had a person he cared about enough to protect. He’d taken the mysterious man’s advice and opened himself up to others. That was the source of his new power. He knew that.
The outfit was cool as hell, though.
It wasn’t some sudden, grand awakening, either. He hadn’t expected much from opening up at first, but he had told the man with the headphones that he trusted him. And he knew somehow, even though he wasn’t sure why or with what, that the man trusted him right back.
Even though he would most likely never see that man again and there would be no consequences if he did nothing, Akira didn’t want to let him down.
And so- now he had friends. Two of them- well, three, if you counted the black not-a-cat currently sleeping in his desk. Another of his friends was sitting in front of him, absently twirling a thick blonde pigtail as she tuned out Kawakami’s opening remarks. She looked exhausted.
Akira didn’t have to ask her why. He knew she’d been sitting by her best friend’s hospital bed all night last night, waiting patiently for her to wake up. A familiar, urgent frustration built up in him. All this new power, and he couldn’t do any more to help her…
He decided not to dwell on that right then.
Akira’s third friend was present too, less in the physical form and more in the form of an endless string of vulgar texts denouncing their P.E. teacher. Who, in a matter of days, they were going to track down and confront in the cognitive world of his mind, before using psychological voodoo to make him confess all his crimes.
Akira sighed. It was only Monday, and it had already been a long week. If he ever saw that man with the headphones again, the first thing he was going to ask him if opening up and making friends always came with weird magical powers that were, incidentally, entirely dependent on your bonds with those friends.
The sneaking suspicion that the man might just shrug and answer yeah, comes with the territory was the most normal thought to occur to him all week.
A sudden hiss of whispers around the room caught Akira’s attention.
A guest teacher’s coming in today! The brown-haired girl who kept swearing she’d borrow his notes one day was saying. From Shibuya!
Man, that’s exciting, a boy with a bowlcut gushed to his friend. Hope it’s a cute girl…
The class seemed excited by the prospect of a fresh face. No surprise, really, considering that the usual topic of gossip was known delinquent Akira Kurusu actually answering a question correctly.
Nice not to be the center of attention for once, Akira thought wryly.
Kawakami was saying something about the guest teacher, most likely an introduction. Akira didn’t catch what she said, occupied by Ryuji’s latest text to his phone (a long string of ramen emojis and question marks that he interpreted as an invitation to dinner).
The whispers rose into a full-on tsunami as the guest teacher entered.
Oh-ho-ho MAN, I was right! It’s totally a cute girl! The boy behind him whispered ecstatically.
She certainly was very pretty, and young too, Akira mused, maybe five or six years older than them at the most. But there was something unique about her that couldn’t be quantified at all by her appearance.
Maybe it was the way she held herself, simple and unassuming but with a quiet power that made Akira feel small, even though she was easily the shortest person in the room, and he one of the tallest.
Her face glowed with interest as her eyes passed over the room, taking note of them all with fascination as though every single person in this sea of dead-eyed, sweaty teenagers held infinite potential.
Maybe it was that. The way she looked out at the world like she was seeing infinitely more than what was there. She looked over at Akira and he felt a warm glow pass over him, like sunshine.
A group of girls in the class seemed to find the guest teacher unique as well, Akira noticed, though for an entirely different reason than he did.
See that bell necklace? It’s one of those rare Gatito ones!
Seriously?! People look for those for YEARS and never find one!
I wonder if she’d tell me how she got it…
“I’m glad you like the necklace,” The group of girls instantly quieted as the guest teacher spoke in that soft voice. “I’d offer it to you three to share, but it’s too special to me to give away.”
“What’s special about it?” Asked one of the girls with interest. In the presence of such an interesting and openhearted person, the usually half-asleep class was curious without restraint.
At the question, her hand flew up to grasp at the pendant, almost on reflex. Her expression became something complicated, flickering through surprise, regret, sorrow, and then back to that soft little smile, so quickly that if Akira hadn’t been watching her so intently he’d think he imagined it.
“Oh, it was a present from my brother when I was younger. It might seem silly, but he’d be disappointed if I gave it away.” She shrugged with a good-natured smile. Akira didn’t miss how she never let go of the pendant. “I’d give it to you if I could, though. I know they’re hard to find!”
The class seemed to take the answer at face value, but Akira was observant. He didn’t think she’d been lying, but there was definitely much more to the pendant than she was letting on. There was a story behind her strange reaction to the girl’s question, and Akira couldn’t help but wonder what it was.
“Before we talk about modern street poetry, my chosen career,” she continued, “I want to talk about something just as important. Something not just every poet, but every person, needs...”
She’d barely even started talking, and yet the entire class was completely under her spell. It wasn’t just her kind nature, but the way she spoke, carefully and mindfully like every word she said really meant something. It reminded him of someone he’d met recently, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on who.
“…A dream.”
A dream. Akira hadn’t really thought about his future past this year. A criminal record- and a strong distrust of adults and the entire working world- tended to do that to you.
“You might think I’m too out of touch with how things are for you guys today, coming in here talking about dreams. I promise you, I’m not. I’m young too, you know.” The guest teacher huffed a sigh, shoulders slumping a little. It made her look years younger. “I’ve already eaten cup ramen twice today. Once, I didn’t even put hot water in it ‘cause I didn’t want to pay for the electricity bill!”
The class laughed at that. Akira noticed that even Ann couldn’t help but giggle a little and he smiled too, despite the worries weighing heavily on his mind.
The guest teacher smiled back, clearly pleased at their laughter. “But, in all seriousness,” She continued, “Stuff like that is important, but it isn’t everything. Being a poet isn’t easy, and it doesn’t pay as well as some other things I could have done instead, but…”
The student teacher’s face darkened. “…When I was young, even younger than you are now, I lost my dreams. All of them.
Akira looked up in surprise. He’d still been half-expecting some generic, comforting anecdote like they were always hearing at school assemblies. In front of him, Ann leaned forwards in her seat, so close to the edge he worried she might slip off.
“…It was awful. The worst thing I ever had to go through. My dreams were all I had,” She tugged once at her necklace, as though for comfort, “And I had to go from being so excited to grow up and change the world, to wanting absolutely nothing at all.”
The class was dead silent. Ann was gripping the edge of her desk. Akira wondered if she was thinking of pushing through a gathering crowd, running to find a girl who had given up on herself and on the world.
“But I didn’t give up. Even when I wanted to the most, I had my brother and all his friends- my friends- around me. And they helped me get through it. But, even they couldn’t do everything.”
She paused, fixing those wide, serious blue eyes on right on him. Akira didn’t look away. “I had to find a dream again, and I had to do it on my own.”
She turned back to the class, and the moment was gone as quickly as it had come. “It was my brother who suggested it to me,” She continued lightly. “I was always quoting sayings and making up my own, so why not be a poet? And I didn’t even want to try it at first, I was so discouraged, but he didn’t give up on me. So I did it.”
She paused for a moment. “I wouldn’t be standing here today without him.”
She said it as though she was stating a simple fact, but the look on her face gave Akira the sense there was more to it than that. Nor did he miss how her hand flitted ever so subtly to the necklace when she mentioned her brother.
“And I learned to motivate myself again, little by little. Poetry is my dream, and it will always be hard, but there’s nothing else I would rather be doing.”
“That’s my challenge to all of you: to find something like that,” She continued, speaking softly into the quiet room. “And to surround yourself with people who will help you get there. Even if you don’t know it yet, I know you can find your own dream and break away from the crowd to follow it. If I did it, when I had no dreams left and nothing I wanted to do,” She continued gently, “Then all of you can, too.”
The class buzzed with energy, spurred into action by the inspiring words, but Akira was still, a cold feeling spreading slowly through his body.
He wondered if he could ever find something like that, a dream. Something he really wanted to do, past the boundaries of money or realism.
He flinched, unconsciously hunching his shoulders as the scornful, passive-aggressive voices of his parents and teachers flooded his mind.
His first instinct was to doubt it, but…
…He looked back into the poet’s hopeful eyes, and it occurred to him for the first time that maybe everyone was wrong about him. Maybe it was time to stop doubting himself. He’d doubted he’d ever make friends here, and he’d been wrong about that. Who was to say he couldn’t be wrong again?
Akira froze. Hadn’t this poet reminded him of someone he met? Someone he’d met recently?
Hang on-
“Being a poet is all about seeing more than just what is,” She leaned on the teacher’s desk thoughtfully, “You have to see what could be, all the possibilities. And that’s what I see when I look at all of you.”
It would be condescending and mechanical coming from anyone else at this school, but it was clear that she meant it. Akira could tell the rest of the class was aware of that, too. Even the students who spent all of their spare time spreading petty rumours and bullying Mishima were held spellbound, shocked into silence by the presence of an adult who actually believed in them.
Kawakami cleared her throat noisily, shooting the poet a pointed look. She nodded in understanding, but made a face when Kawakami’s back was turned, and the class smothered their laughter in their hands.
“As has been requested, we’re going to move on to the main part of class now,” She said, rolling her eyes a little, “But if I have one last thing to say you guys, it’s this.”
“We live in such a big, wonderful world. There are so many possibilities around us, but so many people don’t take them, and then wish they did.” She smiled at them endearingly. “Live every day like it’s your second time living it!”
Akira startled in recognition. He’d heard that somewhere before-
You talk about life like you’ve been given a second chance at it.
“Alright!” The poet went on happily, necklace catching the light as she walked, “Let’s move on. Modern street poetry is such a diverse topic, after all. We’ve got lots of ground to cover!”
Who’s to say I haven’t?
That had to be it. On a hard-evidence basis the connection was still tenuous, but Akira knew this poet and the man with the headphones definitely had to be connected somehow.
While Akira was thinking, she had launched into the body of her lecture on rap and modern street poetry. Despite Akira’s personal vested interest in all things anti-establishment, he found himself focusing more on the deliverer of the lecture than the lecture itself, and what drew him to her and the man with the headphones so much.
They were a different kind of adult- no, person- than he’d ever known.
It was that they listened, he realized. They listened, and they learned from everyone they met. It was an endless pursuit of learning and progress, horizons getting bigger by the moment.
You can’t teach that in a classroom, Akira thought.
One of the students who had been admiring the necklace asked a question Akira didn’t catch.
“That’s a really cool idea,” The poet said in surprise, “You know, even I hadn’t thought of that!”
And suddenly, the class was alive with whispers; just a few at first, then many, ideas bouncing off each other like gas particles.
She’d encouraged her, instead of shutting her down like any other adult at this school would’ve. She was here to teach, but she’d also learned. It was how ideas refined themselves and got better, evolution in a form small enough to be seen unfolding right before his eyes.
He’d wondered, when she came in, how the poet could look so light and cheerful, how she could look at the dreary classroom with such interest, how she could smile at them like she truly believed they could do great things.
It was because she was free from the burdens that society forced on all of them, not through magic, but through thought. In a way that was real and attainable.
In short, it was the exact opposite of every adult he’d ever known, and exactly the sort he wanted to be. And there was no way he was letting a chance to talk to her get away.
After all, who was Akira Kurusu if not a prisoner who wanted to be free?
--
True to his word, Akira took off like a shot as soon as the last class of the day was dismissed, earning him a rather bewildered look from Ann and a protesting screech from Morgana, who had to dig his claws into Akira’s bag to stop himself from flying in the wind like a cat-shaped flag as he ran.
“Yeesh! Watch it, Akira! You know me, I’m all about the ladies, but isn’t this a bit much just for some GIRL?!”
Akira looked back at him, disgusted. “Three things. One, she’s an ADULT, you nasty cat. An ADULT. Two, she’s an inspiration and what I want is ADVICE.”
“W-what’s the third thing?” Morgana asked, still clinging onto Akira’s bag for dear life with his claws.
Akira smiled back at him in response. “Glad you asked. It’s ‘hold on’.”
“Wh-“
He tuned out Morgana’s unholy screech of protest as he sharply rounded a final corner, skidding to a stop as he noticed the poet’s short blonde head of hair bobbing up and down as she walked. She was already almost out the gate, a considerable distance away from him. Akira noticed with admiration the angel wings sewn onto the shoulders of her leather jacket. He (and Arsene) could appreciate a good aesthetic, after all.
A glint on the ground caught his eye. Akira walked towards it for a closer look.
No mistaking it- it was the mysterious black-and-white skull pin he’d seen the man with the headphones wearing. And the poet was the only one around, meaning she must have been the one who dropped it.
The man’s voice echoed in his mind. It’s a promise, or a memory. Take your pick.
Just as he’d suspected, the two of them were connected somehow. Without another thought, Akira picked up the pin and ran.
She whirled around at the loud sound of his foosteps, eyes wide in surprise as she saw how quickly he was approaching.
“E-excuse me,” He huffed, stopping directly in front of her, “But I think you dropped this.”
He held out the pin and she gasped, reaching out at once to take it back.
“Thank you so much! That pin is very precious to me, I don’t know what I would’ve done if I lost it.”
She slipped it into her pocket and gave it a little pat. “There you are! All safe and sound.”
She looked back up at Akira, recognition dawning on her face. “Hang on, weren’t you in my morning lecture today? Ms. Kawakami’s class?”
“Yeah,” He answered, suddenly feeling somewhat shy, “I really liked it. The things you talked about- I’d never even considered them before.”
“It’s really good to hear that, actually!” She beamed at him. “I’m sort of new at this, so just knowing I could make one person look at things differently is good enough for me.”
Her head tipped ever so slightly and her eyes crinkled up at the corners as she smiled, and the sense of everything being right in the world returned to him. He got the sense that was her natural effect on people.
“I don’t think it was just me at all,” Akira answered. “I think…the whole class needed to hear that.”
Akira had never really considered the idea that he could do something he wanted with his life. He’d been raised to believe in making money, supporting the family, and just generally living out your young life in penance for, well, being young. And he knew he wasn’t alone in that.
“You’re right, actually,” The poet said softly. “This place doesn’t exactly encourage dreams.”
That was exactly it, Akira thought. Ann, Ryuji, Shiho, Mishima, Akira himself, even the student council president- they were all living in a world without dreams.
“Until today,” Akira confessed, “I’d thought of dreams as something you abandon.”
Her eyes widened, his words clearly resonating with her. “They’re not.” She considered him for a moment before leaning forwards conspiratorially. “Can I tell you a secret?”
“Go ahead.”
“Holding onto your dreams in a world that wants to steal them from you,” She said, eyes shining in the sunlight, “Is what being a rebel is all about.”
Akira felt, suddenly, as though he understood exactly what his new powers were for.
“And if they’ve already been taken, we’ve got to steal them back,” He asked her, “Isn’t that it?”
She gave him an answering smile. “Exactly.”
They relapsed into a moment of silent companionship. The crowds of students leaving school for the day still whispered when they caught sight of him, but their words bounced right off him now.
Akira had been labelled a rebel more times than he could count. This was the first time he’d actually felt proud of it.
There were no words Akira could come up with to adequately express his thanks to her, so instead he just said, “I like the angel wings on your jacket.” He gave her a thumbs-up, suddenly feeling rather awkward. “Great aesthetic.”
She laughed, and then smiled at him as though she’d understood what he’d meant to say. Somehow, Akira knew that she had.
“Thank you,” She answered breezily. “I can’t take the credit, though. That would have to go to the seamstress!”
Akira was astonished. What seamstress could do such amazing work? Those wings were so detailed he would have almost thought they were real.
“What inspired them?” He asked conversationally.
“Oh!” She said, looking up at him in astonishment. “No one’s ever asked me that before, but essentially,” She looked away, “it’s a bit of an inside joke. Between me and…my friend.”
The way she’d paused on the word ‘friend’ interested him, as though the truth was far too complicated to fit in that single word. The buckles on her jacket jingled cheerfully as she zipped it up against the spring chill.
“I don’t really get to see him too much, so it’s just my way of remembering he’s out there,” She smiled and shrugged her shoulders gently, “If that makes sense!”
The man with the headphones came suddenly to the forefront of Akira’s mind. When Akira had asked him about loneliness, he’d been about to say a word that was unmistakably someone. And the wistful look he’d had in his eyes then was the same one the poet had now as she spoke of her lost friend.
Given their connection…could it be the same person?
Akira opened his mouth to ask, and perhaps get one step closer to solving this puzzle, but before he could say a word-
“HEY! WHAT’CHU DOIN’ WITH MY SISTER, YO?”