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He's been dead for 30 years now. That requires a celebration.
Akechi makes his way to the bar he frequents - Crossroads or whatever - and takes his usual seat by the counter. Lala Escargot has long since retired, which is a shame since the bar has gradually dropped it's original class that brought Akechi here in the first place ever since she left. Now it's all dim lights and loud music and the counter isn't even clean half the time. Plus, there is more kids in here than before her retirement, which can only be good for the ones making money off them.
Whatever, the alcohol is the same, and once he has chugged a bottle worth of imo shochu and on the verge of passing out it won't matter anyway.
He's on his second glass when a lone salaryman crashes down on the stool next to him and orders a big cold beer, possibly to drown out misery and sorrow from the looks of him. He seems to be around the same age as Akechi himself, which distantly surprises him if only he has the energy to care.
The man seems to take notice of him staring since he starts to talk, pouring his heart out to his unwilling victim. "I lost my job, and my wife kicked me out of the house."
Akechi says nothing, can't even bring himself to say fuck off as he takes another sip from his glass. It hurts his throat but he doesn't care.
"I don't get it, it's not my fault the boss' a fucking dick." The beer doesn't even hit the counter before the man grabs it and drinks greedily from the beer mug of glass, liquid spilling over on his cheeks and jaw and counter. Jeez, he must have come here drunk after being kicked out from the last bar. "He thinks he's so fucking entitled to do whatever he hell he wants."
Talk to your fucking therapist instead, Akechi thinks, and takes a bigger gulp from his glass. He has his own problems to mull over, he doesn't need a drunk bastard talking his ear off about his personal life.
"You know, once upon a time I could make those kinds of scum cry on the floor begging for forgiveness," the man continues deliriously with a smug and proud undertone as he nurses his beer with both hands, looking straight ahead. "We took Japan by storm!"
"Sure you did." Akechi stops looking at him from the corner of his eye and stares into his drink. Maybe he should've just stayed home and watch that stupid commercial loop that always went on Saturday nights along with some other bullshit that's on TV right now. Or he could've just jumped onto the railroad just before the subway passed by, it's not as if he'll be missed in that shady little alley store he works in. He drinks some more.
"No, no, I'm serious!" the crazy man insists before banging on the counter for refill. Akechi is silently amazed of how fast it took for the beer to disappear. "We used to steal hearts!"
That makes him choke a little, and his eyes water at the intensity of the burn. He coughs a little more before wheezing, "excuse me?" in a strangled voice.
Can this person really be a former Phantom Thief of Hearts? Akechi seriously doubts that, he can't see any of them becoming alcoholics in order to drown their pain and anguish. Maybe Ren, he always had a thing for hiding his feelings, so drinking them away isn't that far of the mark. He kinds of looks like Ren going by the silhouette.
Akechi needs more alcohol for this.
"I know! Crazy, right! We were only teens, me and my friends, but we made one criminal after the other confess their misdeeds. Even that what's-his-name politician that wanted to rule the world with the help of a god!"
Ren wouldn't ramble like that, Akechi thinks, drinking up and asking for more. That sounds more like what that blond monkey would say and do.
Sakamoto, something whispers helpfully in the back of his mind. His name is Sakamoto.
"I didn't catch your name," Akechi interrupts as the man goes on with more details on that god that apparently made the sky rain blood or something.
"Oh? Yeah right, I'm Sakamoto Ryuji." For the first time the man - Sakamoto - turns to properly face him. His tie is loose, his clothes are dull and wrinkled, his face drips with sweat and beer, and his hair is as dark as soot.
But it's still unmistakingly him, despite the dim lights and change in appearance.
I thought you were Ren, Akechi almost says, but doesn't in risk of Sakamoto being suspicious of him.
"Ren?" Or maybe he does say that, Akechi's kinda drunk after all. "Haha, no way, he's been dead for years now."
"Dead?" Akechi doesn't sputter out because he can't care less about what happened to the boy who once served him coffee and indulged him in pleasant conversations on slow evenings. He's simply curious, that's all.
"Yeah, unbelievable isn't it? And on this exact day too, it feels as if the gods are messing with us." Sakamoto gulps down the remaining of his second mug. "First Akechi's sacrifice, then Boss's first heart attack -- "
Akechi starts to dissociate as he doesn't want to hear the other man list up the Thieves' misfortunes. Maybe it's his fault, he with his bad luck dragging everyone with him. Akechi wouldn't be surprised if that is the case.
But wait, did he just count his "death" as a negative thing...?
"Of course we did! We didn't want him to die -- !" Sakamoto stops in his tracks. "Wait, what do you mean your death?"
Shit, since when did he get so loose lipped? He has only had two drinks. Maybe three. They were strong?
"I have to go," he blurts out pathetically and shoots up, hands on his wallet as he pulls up a bill to put on the counter and runs.
"Hey, wait!"
He doesn't even reach the door before his wrist is grabbed in an iron grip, and when he turns around the eyes he meet are not of a ditzy old drunk.
"Akechi, is that you?" Sakamoto asks, hesitantly, chestnut brown eyes glimmering in caution but not fear. Maybe hope, but that's bullshit, no one ever looks at him with hope --
"No," Akechi lies his worst lie since he was seven. "I think you've mistaken me for someone else." He blames the alcohol.
Sakamoto grins, "I'm not gonna turn you in," and Akechi doesn't know what to feel about all this.