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(( His wheels were tearing through the poorly-paved asphalt, and burnt rubber had long since started sticking to the insides of his nostrils. At least the exhaust stayed out of his eyes- the helmet pressing indents into his cheeks was good for something, after all. ))
Yes… yes, he knew how those things felt.
It felt untouchable, though. The sight, the smell, the feel of the handles; it felt like everything was two inches to the left. Not where it should be.
(( Ahead of him, Kaneda zipped with reckless abandon. His motorbike, his angel in red, reflected the buildings he passed by in rapid prisms. Purple; cyan; yellow; purple again. ))
A dream. No- not a dream. There was nothing to wake up to.
(( The lights cast dark shadows, and Kaneda's stark shadow brushed against the motorbike behind him. That was a sign that they were too close to one another. He should've been further back, really, where not even his outline could reach him. But that was always Kaneda’s thing, wasn't it? Staying behind. Staying close. ))
Ah.
This was a memory. They all were.
“Tetsuo?”
Tetsuo turned around- he didn't really have a body to pilot, and Kaneda's voice came from all directions, but whatever was left of his eyes scanned the area for that call.
There was nothing. There were flashes of city lights and smoke and gore, distant ripping of flesh, but presently, there was nothing.
Except Kaneda. Always Kaneda.
(( This memory was somewhere different. Concrete steps ribboned with familiar graffiti and an orange sky up above; this was the school they'd gone to. He let out a sigh, smelling the alcohol on his breath, and looked down at a half-finished can of beer.
Kaneda was next to him with his own drink in hand. In his memories, Kaneda's face was always tilted down, the shadow falling under his eyes when he looked at the other boy. He'd always been taller. It was a constant courtesy of Kaneda's, looking down on him like that. ))
He tried to slam a fist against his temple to shake his brain back into order, but it didn't register. There was the leftover phantom weight of his arm, the frantic recoiling of energy, but it touched nothing. Hit nothing. In his nothingness, he passed through himself, and there had been nothing to reach in the first place.
This wasn't making any sense--
Maybe this was a dream. Maybe he'd been wrong before in thinking it wasn't.
He didn't- he didn't know where he was. Why was he going through all these memories?
Was he dying?
Tetsuo Shima, harbinger of Akira, God of a new world, was alone. And the thought of those titles made him sick. His stomach- reduced to leftover nerve endings and memories- lurched and sunk, an endless kind of sinking, a heaviness that told him, ‘This is your bed. Lie in it.’
He'd wanted this. He'd wanted this.
Right?
“Tetsuo?”
Anger reached him first. SHUT UP, he thought- GET OUT OF MY HEAD. OUT OF THE MEMORIES.
Kaneda was always there. Always right next to him, suffocating, and yet millions of miles away. And right now, the sound of his voice made him so- so unbelievably angry and he couldn't pinpoint why--
(( This memory opened with a dark sky, but this night was a quiet one. No motorcycles. Against the breeze, his cheeks felt wet. His stomach churned the same way it did now; yes, he remembered this night. ))
No. No- not this memory. It was selfish. It was stupid--
(( The alcohol hadn't settled right. That was why he didn't drink anymore. Not because it tasted like dog piss. He used to drink too much, and then it didn't settle right, and then he ended up outside on the curb. Crying. Saying things he shouldn't.
Kaneda was next to him. ))
“Tetsuo? Hello? Anyone?”
(( “Tetsuo.”
He looked up at Kaneda- always looking up- and saw warm eyes. Kind eyes. Kaneda had always had that charm about him, something Tetsuo sorely lacked and wanted in equal amounts.
“Just go back,” Tetsuo replied, his voice shaking in his throat and slurring as the words left his tongue. “I dunno what's wrong with me. Let- lemme cry it out and go back to normal.” His own embarrassment was catching up to him, and his voice was meaner when he added, “I don't need you to baby me. Go on back.”
Kaneda looked at him, and Tetsuo could see the pity in those eyes now- he fucking hated it- but at the same time, he didn't want him to go. Drunkenness made him a wretched, sentimental thing. So when Kaneda moved to stand up and turn away- ))
“Tetsuo…?”
(( He grabbed the biker by his sleeve and pulled him back onto the concrete.
And he hugged him.
It was a selfish thing. He didn't want to be needy. Didn't want to be a leech. But against his tiny frame, Kaneda wrapped around him, and for one fleeting moment, Tetsuo felt safe.
“Can you- can you stay a little longer, actually?” he blurted out, closing his eyes so that he didn't have to look at his own act of weakness in front of him.
“Yeah, man,” Kaneda said. “Don't worry about it.”))
That memory pissed him off. Or maybe this wasn’t anger, not really; in his loneliness, he felt fear. Like a rubber band about to snap. He was so scared- so alone. So cold.
He wanted to be selfish like that again. He wanted to be known. Understood. And, selfishly, he wanted his friend.
So he reached out one last time.
“Kaneda?”
A moment passed without an answer, and Tetsuo felt his heart sink. Was that voice real? Was Kaneda even here? No, no, he was probably just part of the memories. Kaneda couldn't be here. That was too easy--
“Tetsuo- where are you?”
“Kaneda,” he called out instinctively, relief forcing him to action, “I can't see you- where are you--?”
He'd forgotten his anger before- such rapid changes in mood weren't abnormal for him- but now, he needed Kaneda here. That gnawing feeling in his gut came back, poised in reverse, and instead of forcing himself into isolation, the seconds that ticked by without his friend by his side made him want to hurt something all over again.
Frustration was beginning to surface. Tetsuo was frustrated in the way a fox caught in a trap was frustrated that it couldn't escape; he cried out, then, a harsh cry that reverberated off the nonexistent walls and echoed in his head, and then he tried again to focus on the nothing. To turn it into something.
But nothing happened.
Of course nothing fucking happened- he was trapped here, and so was Kaneda, and even in here they would never be equals-
“Are you okay--?”
What kind of question was that?
He didn’t know what else to feel, so in his desperation, anger took over.
“You're not supposed to be here,” Tetsuo shot back, “You fucking idiot--”
“Shut up,” Kaneda replied, but his tone was more urgent than truly angry. “Just shut the hell up and let me find you, okay?”
Tetsuo thought to lash out again. Anger was such an easy emotion to feel and to weaponize, but this was more than just that. It wasn't a burning feeling, whatever this was inside him. It was a yearning sharp enough to make him hesitate before saying, “You can't find me.”
“What?”
“I said you can't find me- I can't--” the words caught in his nonexistent throat, and his voice became strangled- “I don't think I have a body anymore--”
“I can see mine.”
… He could?
Of course he could.
Of course fucking Kaneda had a hold of himself, always put together and always so much better than him- of course he wouldn't understand how to fix this--
The rubber bands that pulled his mind together were tightening, and against their pressure he unraveled quickly--
“Fuck you,” Tetsuo muttered back. Of all emotions, anger was the easiest pain to swallow. To weaponize. He raised his voice:
“FUCK YOU!”
Again.
“FUCK YOU, KANEDA--”
Again, again, again- he needed catharsis and it was all he could do to scream--
The rubber bands began snapping, one by miserable one--
“FUCK YOU--” his voice cracked-
It hurt so much--
“F-Fuck you-- fuck all of this. Fuck you.” He felt pressure building somewhere by his head. A metaphorical lump in his throat that turned his nerves to sandpaper.
“Fuck you.”
Then the last of the rubber bands snapped, and everything in him and around him ached so much that he couldn't do anything now but wheeze and choke and gasp for air that he didn't deserve.
(( His hands were dirty, rough. Everyone he knew had hands like his. A street light above his head flickered, and he took advantage of the little light it gave off to check his right palm. A bandage covered it; he knew what it looked like underneath. Road rash had torn away the skin there, leaving a grisly red-and-purple gash. Kaori had been the one to clean the most recent bandage. She'd kissed it better for him. ))
Kaori was dead, wasn't she?
He'd felt her die. He'd killed her.
He wanted to say, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, but he couldn't breathe.
He couldn't breathe-
(( So why did he look at those bandages and only think of Kaneda? Kaneda, who'd sat with him by the road and picked out all the stray bits of gravel in his skin. Kaneda, who'd offered his shoulder to lean on- not that Tetsuo took it.
Kaori was beautiful. And nice. She was a girl, and he liked how pretty girls were; how fragile. She was his to protect. But she wasn't him. She was an other, an outsider, and sometimes he found himself missing that mutual understanding when he was with her.
He missed Kaneda. ))
He missed Kaneda.
He missed him so badly.
Fuck. Why had he yelled so much? Why did he do this?
“Kaneda…?” he called out. He couldn't cry without a body, but his voice was thick with unshed tears. Regret, too. “Kaneda, you shouldn't have come here.”
“I- what- of course I came-- I had to stop you. Or stop Akira and save you. I had to do something.”
Tetsuo stayed silent.
“... Do you know how to stop this?”
He drew in a shaky breath and spoke up again to admit, “No. I don't- I don't think I can stop it.”
He felt Kaneda's silence and, in that pause, he added, “I'm sorry. For everything. I told you you shouldn't have come.”
He was selfish; more than he hated his own weakness, he wanted a moment to breathe. He wanted a moment to cry. And in the silence that followed, he did. Though he couldn't feel the wetness on his cheeks, he felt the intangible force of something wretched forcing its way through him and into the ether; these tears, these facets of humanity; they spilled out, and they did not stop.
((Tetsuo cried frequently, but never in another's company.
As a child, tears of pain over a bruise; older, he cried tears of frustration over his own inadequacy. He grew, but his emotions seemed permanently stunted. He was a perpetually scared child, and so tears were easy for him to grasp.))
The images of his crying form over the years were rapid and uncountable, and the colors flashing in his eyes and in his head made the terrified sobs of the present ring out even louder.
It hurt.
It hurt; the colors turned into one blinding light, and the sound of static tuned out his crying. The sheer largeness of the white noise around him only got bigger, bigger, bigger- it melted into his head and, as time ticked by, he felt his ears burning against the sound of static in his ears--
And then he opened his eyes.
… He had eyes now?
He felt himself look down, and he saw tear droplets hitting an invisible surface. On either side of the small puddle of tears that'd already formed, his hands remained planted on the same surface, palms pressed to the floor as he curled his fingers into loose fists.
These hands were calloused, stubby, ugly. They had caused so much pain. They had taken so much pain. But they were his, ugliness and all, and between leftover sobs, he sighed out shaky breaths of relief to have found a bit of himself again.
He was finally reforming.
“Are these your memories?” he heard Kaneda's voice ask, and he felt shame and embarrassment rising in him- had Kaneda seen all of them…?
“Tetsuo,” Kaneda added, “I never looked down on you for crying that night.”
“Shut up,” Tetsuo shot back reflexively, but his heart wasn't in it; his voice came out more defeated now than truly embittered. “Not like it matters.”
“But it does matter. Is that why you did all this? Because you were mad at me?”
“Ha, no,” Tetsuo replied truthfully. “I was- I am mad at the doctors. For taking me away. And then I was mad at the world. And I thought I was mad at you, but I'm not.” In a smaller, hushed tone, he added, “I don't know what I am or who I'm mad at.”
Kaneda was silent at that, and Tetsuo wished he could see his expression to know if it was out of confusion or pity. He didn't want pity.
But he did want to keep the conversation going, because the silence felt like it might choke him to death with white noise again.
“I can see my hands now.”
“Really?” Kaneda piped up, excitement in his voice. “Okay. Keep looking for me. Try feeling around with your hands.”
Tetsuo raised his hands off the floor and turned them around; his palms were scuffed, and his hands were tiny. Tinier than Kaneda's.
“Why do you want to help me if I can't fix this?”
“What?”
Tetsuo's outstretched hands balled back into fists. “I'm useless to you. I can't fix it. So just get out of here, please.”
It hurt too much to hear Kaneda's voice and know all he'd done to hurt him. All he was still doing without even thinking. And he didn't want to keep losing his head and hurting him even more.
“But I want to help you. You're not going to hurt me again, are you?”
“I-” that was what he was afraid of- “I don’t know. I don't want to hurt anyone except for those fuckin’ doctors- but it's too late--”
“So don't,” Kaneda replied. “I’m not one of them. I'm not gonna hand you off to them. You're not going to go back.”
He wanted to believe that, and logically, he knew it was true, but…
“Promise?”
“Yeah, man. Of course. Now let me help you.”
Let me help you.
He wanted to, but it was so hard to let go.
((That night when he'd gotten drunk and hugged Kaneda came back into his vision.
His own memory of it was foggy, but Kaneda's perception of it brought clarity.
“I think I love you,” Tetsuo mumbled, leaning into the hug on his tiptoes. “Sorry.”
“What-” Kaneda's grip loosened, but he didn't leave the hug- “Are you sure? Like, as more than a friend?”
“I dunno. I know I like you, but you're too good for me. Too busy keepin’ me out of trouble.”
“No, that's not true. You're my friend, Tetsuo.” He paused for a moment. “My best friend. You can lean on me.”
Tetsuo paused a bit, not sure whether to believe what he'd just heard, but he decided to roll with it. It felt better that way. “Promise?”
“Yeah. I've got you.” ))
Tetsuo could feel himself blushing; he blinked, and this time, he actually registered the sensation of it. He quickly brought his hands up to where his face should be but hadn't been, and finally, finally, he felt his own warm, rough skin against his fingertips.
But that relief was dampened by the memory; he hadn't remembered saying that. Kaneda did, though, apparently.
“I-” Tetsuo stammered- “I hope you didn't see that.”
“Um,” Kaneda replied, “yeah. Sorry. I see everything you see; I think we're linked together here.”
An uncomfortable silence fell upon the two of them. Tetsuo looked around the white space, secretly relieved that he couldn't see Kaneda this time, and waited while he figured out what to say.
But Kaneda, as usual, was there to help.
“I never looked at you differently for it, y'know. I never looked down on you. I just wanted you safe because- because you're my buddy. And I cared. I still care.”
“We were never equals,” Tetsuo muttered back; rather than bitterness, his tone was marred with melancholy. Longing. He'd just wanted to be with his friend without these complications, these worries of burdening him. Without this bitterness that'd consumed everything he touched. “I wish- I wish I could've been more like you. Then this wouldn't have happened.”
“But I don't want you to be like me,” Kaneda pointed out. “I want you, Tetsuo. Just you. That's always what I've wanted. You've always been enough to make me happy all on your own.”
Tetsuo took in a shaky breath and held his head in his hands, a small gesture of self-comfort; could it really be that easy? That Kaneda could just… want to be friends, without ulterior motives?
He felt stupid. And he felt angry towards the doctors for making everything feel worse. And he felt sad for not spending enough time being honest before. And, even still, he felt some relief from it all. Even with the demons in his head and the horrors he'd been a part of, if he could process it with Kaneda- then he knew, somehow, that it would be okay.
“... I can feel my face again,” Tetsuo finally brought up. It felt important; any recovery of his old self felt important.
“Okay,” Kaneda replied, “cool.”
There was no horizon line- it was a world entirely made of white- so the only way Tetsuo knew he was standing up was his center of gravity changing as he raised his body up higher. He had some concept of a body, a self, but chunks were still missing.
They'd both been swallowed up by this… this place. Home to nothing.
“Do you think we're dead?” he blurted out; the nerves from before were getting to him. “You shouldn't have come. I think this is Hell.”
“I made my choice to follow you. I could've gone back with the others, but I ran after you.”
“But- even after everything?”
“Yeah,” Kaneda said. “Because it was still you in the end. I'll always be with you.”
That monster from before hadn't been him. Not that writhing, terrifying mound of flesh that he'd turned into. But he understood what Kaneda meant- after the gore and rampage and carnage, he had been scared. He'd become human again just as it became too late.
“I don't think we're dead,” Kaneda added. “But it definitely doesn't feel like home. It feels like we're somewhere different- like another world or something.”
Tetsuo remembered what he could about his powers and where they’d come from. About Akira.
“I think…” he tried to get his thoughts together, but he'd never been very eloquent. “I think my power was meant to destroy this world. And I think I was supposed to be a God of whatever was left. If this is whatever's left, then- then I have to create something new.”
Being a God had been such a nice idea before. It'd made him feel powerful. It'd made him feel like he'd never be hurt again, not by the doctors or by the own demons in his head. But this was true godhood- a blank canvas. Underwhelming. Lonely.
He had to do this alone, didn't he? Figure out what to do next. But- but that was so terrifying--
((That night again.
The two kept hugging for a while longer, Tetsuo trying to hold back the rest of his tears, and he hoped for a moment that it'd never end. Pulling away meant going back to his miserable status quo.
But he had to. He didn't want to lean on anyone. He wouldn't, couldn't be a burden.
So Tetsuo started to pull away.
“You know,” Kaneda said, “you can lean on me.”
Tetsuo got the courage to look up into Kaneda's eyes, then, and they shone with honesty. The pity was gone. For a moment, a single, fleeting moment, he thought the two of them might even finally be equals.))
Did he have to do this alone?
He didn't want to.
God, he didn't want to. He wanted somebody to lean on now more than ever.
“Kaneda,” he said softly.
“Yeah?”
Tetsuo gulped, trying to work up the courage to reach out again, and then he admitted, “I can't do this alone. I- I need help.”
As soon as he said it aloud, a weight off his shoulders lifted.
I need help.
It felt like he could breathe again for the first time.
Something caught his eye, and when he turned to look-
In the distance, he saw Kaneda.
That bright red capsule jacket, the parted hair and big ears- that had to be his figure up ahead--
“Tetsuo?”
Kaneda raised his arms up and started waving wildly, excitedly- then he started running towards him at full tilt.
“Tetsuo!”
Tetsuo didn't mind, because without thinking, he began running, too.
The two raced towards one another, arms outstretched--
And then, with the force of a thousand new worlds, they crashed into one another. Their arms found each other's sides- wow, Kaneda was so warm, he'd forgotten what that warmth felt like- and they wrapped one another in the tightest hug Tetsuo had ever known.
“I'm sorry,” Tetsuo choked out, and a new round of tears followed soon after. “I'm so sorry. For everything.”
“We'll figure it out,” Kaneda replied, and his voice was thick with tears as well. “We always have.”
Tetsuo sniffled, dug his head further into the crook of Kaneda's neck, and said, “Yeah.”
They were going to have to make a new world. Or maybe they'd fail and die. Maybe this was Hell, after all. Tetsuo had no idea, and it was so impossibly scary that it kept him paralyzed for a moment longer.
But Kaneda was here.
Kaneda was here, and he wasn't leaving.
He needed to say something before it was too late.
“I love you. And- and whatever happens next, I'm glad to have met you, Kaneda.”
“Love you too, man.”
“I'm- I'm scared. I don't know what's gonna happen to us.”
“I'm scared, too. But I'm here. We're here together.”
The white void ahead of them was calling. They'd have to answer it eventually, and then fate could have its way with the two of them.
But they were alright for now. That was enough.
I…
“Yeah. Thank you for coming.”
I am Tetsuo.
“I wouldn't have it any other way.”
“Yeah. ‘Course you wouldn't.”
“Heh.”
And I am not alone.