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Where do we go after we die?
Death isn’t kind. Aki knows this. It grasps people who are far too young, people who are far too good, people who have done nothing wrong. Death stalks those who least expect it, lurking in the dark, unmoved by its victims' prayers and dreams. None leave this world alive. But now, again:
Where do we go after we die?
Aki keeps this question locked in the darkest parts of his mind, forbidden to be thought of. Pondering about the unknown wouldn’t do him any good.
There he sits, inhaling the unpleasant air of the city mixed with the intoxicating smoke produced by the cigarette in his hand. He inhales the grey fumes, gas that prophesies infected lungs and an early death. Yet this is of no concern to Aki. He has faced worse.
He has avoided this topic - death - ever since his family was killed. Naive, young, left to fend for himself, he simply couldn't care that his actions may lead him towards an early end. He had nothing left to live for, after all. He tells himself he should’ve been the one to die back then anyway. Because, why him? Why should he be standing here, as his brother lays six feet below? It must be some kind of twisted joke, he thinks, to be the one who was kept alive.
So, yes. Quite positively, Aki has nothing left to live for.
That’s what he thought once, anyhow.
Whenever Aki believes to be on the verge of death, just for a second, he closes his eyes. He thinks of those he holds dear to him, hoping that it would ease the pain he assumes one feels as they take their final breath. He knows he couldn’t possibly end in a manner that wasn’t gruesome, regarding the fact that he’s young, healthy - if you ignore the cigarettes - and only has a few years left. Dying in a “natural” way was out of the picture. But if he could think of those he loved as he went, just for a second, that would be good enough for him. Perhaps, in this way, it would hurt a little less. He’d be lucky to have a good life, good people to think about.
The first time he did this was a year after joining public safety, facing a devil that proved to be too much for him to handle. Aki had some experience, of course, but he’d never seen something like this. This enemy was skeleton-like, its skin translucent, its face contorting into all sorts of gruesome facial expressions. It towered above him, eyes wide, empty, soulless.
Aki couldn’t get himself to move.
He closed his eyes.
He saw the face of his brother, his gleaming childish face smiling at him. Then he saw his mother and father, standing next to each other, happy at the thought of their children getting along. And finally, he saw Himeno.
‘Don’t die, Aki’
Two seconds passed.
Saved by another devil hunter. He wasn’t going to die today.
Aki shifts his thoughts back to the present. He lightly taps his cigarette over the ashtray, watching the frail particles join the ones that had already been laid down.
Maybe he should care about his own death. Deep down, he knows he does. He can tell by the way he breathes. He can tell by the way he takes a sharp, painful breath. He can tell by the way his heart starts to panic and race at the thought of dying, the beat frantically trying to urge him to hurry up, telling him that time is running out. Aki can tell he cares, because he feels a very human emotion every time the topic appears in his head. How could he not?
Aki feels scared.
And Aki, drowning in self-pity, dreads the day he’ll have to die.
And therefore, Aki cries.
His cigarette has become dangerously short.
Ah, this is exactly why he doesn’t like thinking so much.
Losing yourself in your thoughts is dangerous. It makes you face the harsh reality that time is faster than it seems, that life is shorter than it seems, a fact that, much like the cigarette, has been under your nose this entire time.
Living in ignorance of the future is bliss.
The most recent moment when he thought he’d die was when he faced the Darkness Devil.
He was on the ground, motionless. What had happened? Where was he? Was this the end?
He closed his eyes.
This time, he thought of someone new. No, not just one person, but three. Denji. Power. Angel. He thought of Angel buying ice-cream, only to finish it in a few minutes and buying another. He thought of Denji pulling one of his crazy antics, only to proceed by shouting at Power for pulling one of her own. He thought of Power making Denji laugh on the train, as she pulled herself upwards by the handles hanging from the ceiling. He thought of the time when he layed near Power and Denji, having slept side by side in an effort to cure Power of her nightmares. In reality, it hadn’t solely been her nightmares they were curing, but their own as well. The three had found a place they could call home.
It’s a privilege to die with a comforting thought.
Ah, and what a nice thought it was.
The present Aki doesn't realize it, but he smiles at that.
Aki hadn’t died that day.
A tired Denji leans on the balcony door, looking at Aki’s face in confusion.
‘What are ya thinking about?’
‘Nothing,’ he replies softly. ‘Nothing at all.’
Aki has made a choice.
He isn’t going to die today. Not until he knows Denji and Power are safe. Not until he knows they can be guaranteed their own future, away from devils, away from devil hunters. Not until he knows the ones he now considers his family would be protected. Not until then.
Aki makes his way across the beach, Angel at his side. The sand below his feet seems to hug his shoes, almost attempting to halt him from going any further. He pays no mind to it. The water runs over the sand, calm, fizzing and bubbling over the occasional rocks and seashells. The hue of the sky is gentle, reminding him of a vintage photograph. The sound of the sea and the whispering wind creates a familiar, nostalgic melody. A lullaby, perhaps?
The sound is not a lullaby, no, but a requiem.
And its conductor is standing in the distance, her dress and hair moving along in tempo with the wind.
Aki continues to walk, nearing the maestro. Her body remains still, her expression never changing. There she stands. Smiling. Still. Silent.
‘I want the strength to change things this time. Please…’ He begs, as he feels that familiar feeling of his eyes stinging, his vision clouded by tears. ‘Help me.’
Makima’s smile doesn’t falter.
‘Say you’ll make a contract.’
Silence.
In a split second, Angel’s head snaps towards Aki, his face filled with horror.
What seems to be silence soon turns into a crescendo of sound, racing heartbeat blaring in his ears, mixing with the sudden crash of the waves and the wind’s shrill voice to produce an alarming cacophony.
‘I’ll make a contract.’
The symphony comes to an abrupt halt.
Aki felt time stop.
Strangely, in that moment, something inside Aki screamed at him to close his eyes.
Why now?
Why here?
If only he had closed his eyes sooner - maybe he would've gone the way he wanted. Asking himself questions was a mistake he would soon pay for - losing yourself in your thoughts is dangerous. It makes you face the harsh reality that time is faster than it seems. And Aki had run out of time.
He could feel his heart pounding against his rib cage, numbness enveloping his senses. Realization dawned on him - he was going to die. He could hear a voice in his mind shrieking at him to move. He tried to inhale, but no air came in this time. Tears stained his cheeks. His mind became frantic - he hadn't had the chance to say goodbye. He hadn’t told Denji that despite it all he appreciated his company, hadn’t told Power how happy he was when she felt better. Aki hadn’t told them how he would cherish them no matter how annoying or immature they became, hadn’t given them a hug in fear of appearing too vulnerable or out of character. He hadn’t thanked them for giving him a reason to fight, to live. All he wanted was to see them one more time, for those he loved to be alright, some reassurance, and yet-
Aki closed his eyes.
His mind filled with nothingness, and his world turned cold.