Chapter Text
The first time he encountered the strange pin, Akira met the man who changed his outlook on life completely.
Akira had been in Tokyo for all of forty-six hours and already he felt like he had been trapped here his whole life, like the cruel press and noise of the crowds had worn him down to nothing.
How was he supposed to last an entire year here?
It was just as bad as where he had grown up, but bigger. The constant whispering and jeering and shouting and talking, as though everyone was in a constant battle to have their two cents heard above the rest.
It reached the point of unbearable when he walked through the corridors of school or past a gaggle of students on the subway, everyone tripping over themselves to make some joke about what a delinquent he was.
It wasn’t even about him; they barely even knew him outside of what they’d read online. They just wanted the shallow, fleeting approval of their friends, a few seconds of laughter before they moved on to some other amusement.
As he listlessly let himself get pushed through the Scramble on his way back to Yongen-Jaya, he was grateful that at least he was safe from the whispers and suspicious looks he faced at school. On the busy streets of Shibuya, he was just another face in the crowd.
But the crowds themselves were just as bad. Worst of all were the men in the flashy clothes slinking near the alleyways like wolves, staring bright-eyed and hungry like predators at all the pretty girls walking past, whether they be twenty-four or fourteen. He didn’t miss the way the girls watched anxiously out of the corners of their eyes, backs tense as bowstrings as they powerwalked for their very lives. Akira knew they were counting each step they took as a victory.
It sickened him. Those men were no better than the drunk pervert who had been threatening that woman that night. He’d tried to stop that from happening, and just where had that gotten him, again?
He was completely alone. He had no friends. The man who had taken him in hated him. His own parents hated him. They’d dropped him in a second as soon as he’d posed even the slightest threat to his father’s prestigious career. And now he was stuck here.
Don’t think about it, Akira, he scolded himself. That was becoming his mantra lately. Just don’t think about it. One year, and you can go home.
Go home to a place just as cold and empty as this one, to family that hated him just as much as Sojiro did.
Actually, Sojiro was better. At least he’d given him his own space and actually made him breakfast once. That was more than he’d ever gotten at home.
Akira sat down heavily on the tiny bench in the bus stop he could barely remember walking to, just as it began to rain. How convenient for him.
He knocked his forehead against the clear glass wall, far too lost and exhausted to care about any strange looks he might be getting.
He knew he should be getting back to the coffee shop, that Sojiro would give him dirty looks and maybe hold up his thumb and forefinger and say he was this close to calling the cops and getting him thrown out on the streets.
He didn’t care, he thought recklessly as he watched his breath fog up the glass. He didn’t care, even though he knew he should. He just needed a moment to let himself be scared and overwhelmed, here in this huge Shibuya, before he had to put up the quiet and stoic act around Sojiro, his teachers, everyone else. He knew that any emotion he showed would be met with distrust and contempt, as though it was all just the act of a lying, manipulative criminal.
A dreadful sinking feeling was growing in his stomach as he thought about it. Going to school every day, trapped there. Walking through Shibuya every day, trapped there. Going back to Leblanc, trapped there.
He clenched his hands around the straps of his book bag, his breath coming harsh and stuttering onto the foggy glass as he willed himself to calm down. It was raining and the crowds were dispersing in search of shelter; hopefully nobody would come this way for a while. He could just take a moment, nobody would bother him here-
“You okay there?”
It was a man’s voice, young sounding but definitely still an adult.
Akira didn’t move for a moment, closing his eyes and debating whether or not to turn around. A few possible responses ran through his mind, most of them neutrally polite greetings drilled into him by his parents. Too bad he wasn’t feeling too charitable today. His patience with humanity at large had completely run dry.
In the end, he didn’t move, didn’t even open his eyes. “What’s it to you?”
Akira hadn’t meant to be so rude. But he felt completely broken down, as though one more harsh word from a stranger could crumple him into dust and blow him away. He didn’t have the energy to put up the nice act, not now.
But the man didn’t get angry like Akira was suspecting from an easily offended adult. He was just silent, and then-
“There are people in Shibuya who actually care, you know.”
That got Akira’s attention. The way this stranger had hit the nail on the head without even trying, almost as though he could read his mind.
Without really meaning to, Akira opened his eyes and unstuck his forehead from the corner of the bus stop, looking over at his mysterious conversation partner for the first time.
He was a young man, probably about early twenties, just as Akira had guessed from his voice. His hair caught Akira’s eye, a gingery-orange spiky shock that he somehow managed to make look good, short, messy strands in front and a higher spike in the back. A glossy pin on the lapel of his jacket flashed in the light and caught Akira’s eye. It had a strangely familiar white design on it, something that Akira couldn’t quite place.
He had a pair of sleek-looking headphones around his neck, Akira noticed, but he wasn’t using them, seemingly content to just listen to the hushed crackle of the rain.
He was quite handsome, too, eye-catchingly so. But more than his appearance, what truly struck Akira was how extraordinary the man seemed even from a first glance, out of place yet completely comfortable in his own skin.
“Really?” Akira broke the silence skeptically. “’Cause I have yet to meet them.”
The man with the headphones- it seemed right to call him that, somehow- eyed Akira consideringly, leaned against the bus stop wall with one foot up on the glass. Something about the slight rebelliousness in the pose made Akira relax, instantly trust him.
“You should tell me about it,” The man with the headphones offered.
Akira looked up. “About what?”
“About why you feel that way.” He explained, like it was the simplest thing in the world to unload your entire life’s story on a complete stranger. “Everyone who feels the way you do has a reason.”
Akira bristled, staring the man with the headphones down. His blue eyes were striking. “And how would you know?”
The man with the headphones met his gaze without flinching. “Because I’ve felt that way too.”
Akira was stunned into silence. His father always said that the most honest men were always the most stupid. This was the most honest man he had ever met, but quite certainly the farthest from stupid. He knew somehow, with more certainty than he had ever felt in his life, that he was telling the truth. More importantly, he knew that he would actually listen.
And despite knowing he should be getting back, despite knowing how ridiculous and potentially dangerous it was to be unloading years of baggage on a complete stranger, Akira told him everything. From his undeserved charge of assault for just trying to do the right thing, his exile to the big city, all the way up to sitting at that very bus stop, alone in a darkening and rainy Shibuya.
Akira was expecting the man with the headphones to recoil in fear or sudden misgiving when he talked about his criminal record, or maybe offer some false show of sympathy and a couple of broad platitudes before putting a safe distance between himself and the delinquent, like everyone else had once they heard his story.
Instead, the man just laughed, short and sharp. “Sucks to be you, I guess.”
His words were blunt, but his smile was somehow reassuring, and a little proud, too.
Akira felt himself warming under that smile. “Yeah. I guess it does.”
The man with the headphones raised a single eyebrow, still grinning, and Akira felt a laugh bubble out of his chest and shake all the weight out of his shoulders. He knew it was almost too much to hope, but for the first time, he felt like someone understood he had done the right thing.
The man with the headphones crossed the bus stop in a few short steps, sitting beside Akira on the rusty bench and looking out with a little smile at the rain. He carried a messenger bag similar to Akira’s, just with a longer strap. “I’m not going to tell you to just keep your head down and wait it out like just about everyone else in your life probably has, ‘cause that’s bullshit.”
Akira grinned at his fellow rebel, this strange new kindred spirit. “Thanks.”
“But I’ll tell you this,” The man paused for a moment, as though weighing his words carefully. It was strange, Akira thought, to have someone care so much about what they said to him. “Don’t give up on other people just yet.”
He thought of his parents, Sojiro, the students, the teachers, everyone who hated him on sight, day in and day out, no matter how hard he tried to prove them wrong.
He was suddenly too tired to even be bitter. Just thinking about it took all the fight out of him.
“…Why not?” Akira asked quietly. His voice sounded very small, almost drowned out by the rain outside.
Akira had hoped the man wouldn’t hear him, wouldn’t notice his sudden vulnerability. But his sharp eyes read Akira easily, and his face softened into a smile.
“Because you’ll find people. People who will understand. People who will make you change, not because you have to, but because you want to.”
He had a wistful look in his eyes. Akira didn’t doubt for a second that this man had been like him once, and had found people who understood him. He said nothing.
“That’s why you can’t give up looking for them. Some people are bad, but they’re not all bad. You just have to keep expanding your world.”
“How?” Akira asked, clenching his bag strap tightly.
“Talk to people; try to see their side. Find the good ones, and hang onto them. They’re out there. And, you know what?” The man smiled knowingly at him. “They’re probably looking for you, too.”
Under that optimistic smile, Akira tensed his shoulders and looked away. He scoffed, trying not to show how badly he wanted that to be true. How certain he felt that it could never be.
“What, don’t think it could happen to you?” The man correctly guessed, still with that same knowing smile.
“…” Akira said nothing. There was no point. Sixteen years of feeling completely misunderstood, and this total stranger had him all figured out.
“I don’t know what everyone else has said to you, and I don’t care. Something about a permanent criminal record, being alone for life and deserving it and all that. But none of it’s true.”
Akira turned back towards him, no longer caring what his face gave away. He knew he wouldn’t be judged here.
“Even the worst, loneliest, most closed-off people can change. Trust me. I’ve been there.”
“I trust you.” Akira said back, without really meaning to. He just somehow knew it was the right thing to say.
A smile broke across the man’s face like those were his three favourite words. Maybe they were.
“And that,” the man answered, smiling at Akira as though he had just passed some unknown test, “Is really all you need to do.”
The warmest, most companionable silence Akira had ever experienced fell between them. It was late now, way past Akira’s curfew. Sojiro would have his head. He couldn’t bring himself to care.
“I don’t get it, though,” Akira said, breaking the silence. “How you got all this out of me. I’ve never told anyone this stuff. And,” he continued, something new occurring to him, “Why bother? It’s not like you know me, or I’m important to you.”
“To answer your second question, you remind me a little bit of…well, me, when I was fifteen.”
Akira was sixteen, but he felt like saying that might be missing the point.
“And to answer your first question-” The man was quiet for a moment, curling his fingers over the sleeve of his overcoat. It was a really nice jacket, Akira thought, and he couldn’t imagine anyone else wearing it. It fit the man like it was made just for him.
Akira wondered if all that was a coincidence.
“-‘Sometimes all people need is a good listener.’ …Or, at least, that’s what I’ve heard.”
The man said the words like he was handling a gift from an old friend. Something he carried in his pocket with him wherever he went, well worn and made precious by years of history.
Akira didn’t ask.
Instead, he found his eyes drawn back to the strange black pin on the man’s jacket, one of the first things that had caught his eye about him.
“What’s that pin on your jacket? It looks familiar.”
The man looked back up at him sharply. He seemed impressed, for a reason Akira couldn’t figure out.
“It’s a promise,” He paused, considering, “Or a memory. Take your pick.”
Akira arched an eyebrow. The man chuckled in response. “Sorry. That must’ve sounded pretty annoyingly cryptic. I guess one of my friends is rubbing off on me.”
He made a face, seemingly not too excited by that prospect. The scowl somehow made the man look years younger, like he could be fifteen years old again and going to Akira’s school. Something about it made Akira smile.
“What about the other ones? The ones on your bag, I mean.”
“Huh? Oh, these?” The man asked, gesturing down at his messenger bag, which was nearly covered in pins.
“Yeah,” He answered. There were all sorts of designs; a stylized graffiti hand, an orange flame, a soda can, a monochrome wolf. Oddly, the pin at the very centre of the bag was white, and completely blank. Akira could admit he was curious.
“I just…like them. They went out of style a while ago, but I still think they look cool.” His smile was soft, sentimental. “Good memories, too. ”
The man rubbed a finger over the centre pin as he spoke. Akira couldn't fathom what was so important about a blank white pin, or any of the pins, really, but he got the sense they were much more important to him than the man was letting on.
But all he said was, “No offence, but wearing them on your bag like that kind of makes you look like a thirteen year old girl.”
For a moment, the man with the headphones just stared at him in shocked silence. Then he threw his head back and laughed, loud and jubilant. He laughed like a person who didn’t do it often, but when he did, he really meant it. It was all but impossible to not join in, and Akira found himself doing just that.
“You know,” The man said finally, wiping the tears of laughter from his eyes, “I’ve got a friend you should meet. She never shuts up about that,” He snorted. His laughter subsided, but the fond look in his eyes when he thought about his friend never did.
You didn’t have to like everything about your friends, Akira supposed. You just had to love them more than they annoyed you.
He wondered if he would know what that was like, someday.
“-Do you ever get lonely?”
As soon as the words were out of his mouth, Akira wished he could take them back. That question was as good as a confession, and kind, non-judgemental stranger or not, he had never spoken about this to anyone.
Akira heard the man shifting to look towards him and felt his shoulders tense. He knew how pitiful he must look right now, turned in on himself, looking down, still soaked from the rain like a drowned cat.
But the man with the headphones said nothing. He just shifted slightly closer, so he wasn’t quite touching Akira, but close by his side. It was nothing too suffocating, nothing too demanding- just a small, simple declaration of solidarity.
“Yeah. ‘Course I do.” The man said.
Akira didn’t move, but he felt his shoulders relaxing at the feeling of a comforting presence by his side. He hadn’t realized how badly he’d needed that.
“There’s someo- I mean, sometimes I get lonely. It’s the same for everyone. That’s just life, I guess.”
Akira looked up curiously. The man always seemed so sure of himself; that was the first time he had fumbled his words since he’d first spoken to him. His eyes looked sadder than his voice gave away.
“…But I’m alright.” The man looked back over at Akira. He still looked a bit sad, but his smile was genuine. “Because I’ve got friends who’ve got my back, and that makes all the difference.”
The man’s smile turned into a full-out grin. “And once you’ve got them too, you’ll know what I mean. Just take it one day at a time.”
Akira smiled back. It was the way the man had said it, like it would get better. No doubt about it.
“Yeah,” Akira nodded at him. “Yeah. I think will.”
“There you go.” The man looked at him proudly, as though just by saying he would try Akira had already achieved something great.
The two of them fell into another comfortable silence, and Akira watched the rain outside, just thinking.
He hadn’t missed the sad look in the man’s eyes, or the way he’d bitten off the word someone.
Mysterious as the man was, Akira couldn’t help but wonder what he would have said had he not reconsidered his words.
Lost in thought, Akira didn’t notice the man getting up to leave.
“I’ve got to go meet up with a friend of mine at the skate park,” The man said, adjusting his headphones as he looked out at the rain. “You going to be OK making it back in the dark?”
The man asked the question casually like anyone might, but Akira somehow got the sense that, unlike many others, he genuinely cared. Like if Akira said so, he’d actually take the time out to walk him wherever he wanted to go.
That was more than he could say for just about everyone he knew. Akira couldn’t help but wonder what had happened to the man to make him this way.
“Don’t worry about me,” Akira reassured him, “I’ll be fine.”
“As long as you’re sure. And for the record, you’ll be more than fine.” The man turned back to him, smiling like talking to a complete stranger in a rainy bus stop was the best experience of his life. “You’re great. You’re living in this wonderful world, after all. Enjoy the moment.”
Akira was completely dumbfounded by this guy. He had never heard someone talk like that.
He could only think of one way to describe it.
“You talk about life like you’ve had a second chance at it.”
Instead directing him to the nearest mental hospital like Akira half-expected him to, the man just grinned, a little mischievously.
“Who’s to say I haven’t?”
Leaving him with that, the man turned away, pulling his jacket up over his headphones and making his way through the rainy, deserted Scramble.
Akira remained frozen in place, still and pensive, watching in a trance as the man’s purple jacket slowly became a purple dot and finally disappeared down a narrow side street he didn’t know the name of.
Standing there in the rainy bus stop, Akira turned the man’s advice over and over in his mind long after he had gone, something that seemed so obvious but that so few people actually ever managed to grasp.
Enjoy the moment.
Akira took the long way back to Leblanc, catching raindrops on his tongue as he went. He shocked Sojiro out of his oncoming tirade by thanking him for waiting up and smiled himself to sleep, alone in a dusty old attic tucked away in a backstreet of Yongen-Jaya.