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He knew he had really overdone it this time.
Having Zenkichi see him in this state would probably be one of the worst things that could ever happen to Akira, and he was literally bullied by God for a year.
He wasn’t sure why it was so important to him that Zenkichi or the rest of the thieves always see him at his best. Leader mentality? Maybe, but Akira assumed his need to please everyone all the time was the true culprit. It mattered that everyone’s idea of the leader of the Phantom Thieves was a good one.
So when he had gotten away with hiding his wounds that for some reason weren’t healing fast enough, even in the jails, for a whole week now, Akira knew his luck would run out sooner or later.
Just why’d it have to be like this?
The rest of the thieves were fast asleep. Zenkichi should’ve been too, so why wasn’t he?
Now Akira’s got to think fast.
***
Zenkichi was exhausted. He was PubSec, sure, but running around with these delinquents had him the most tired he’d been in years.
Even so, he never regretted his decision to save them. Every single Phantom Thief was a good, kindhearted kid. They were all kids that didn’t deserve to be slandered with titles like terrorists or murderers .
So Zenkichi stayed, ready to see this through to the end. The sheer determination of the Phantom Thieves continued to amaze him every day. And the trust they had in their leader, too, was truly remarkable.
Akira Kurusu was always a mystery to him, even before joining up with the man himself.
When Zenkichi had been assigned to the case, his first instinct was to find out everything he could about the infamous leader. Which, at the time, seemed like an easy enough job, previous arrest and all. All he had to do was look through the case files.
But that was the thing. There were no case files. At least, no tangible ones.
He could read all about the kid’s previous life, but once he moves to Tokyo, there’s barely anything on his methods. Even the interrogation process was removed from the file, much to Zenkichi’s dismay.
He had heard rumors about the horrific measures that had been taken in that interrogation room. Dirty cops, illegal drugs, really the works. Zenkichi didn’t want to believe it, but it’s hard to ignore when all the evidence is sitting in front of him in the form of a tampered case file.
That wouldn’t be the first time he’d have doubts about the system.
***
Akira was almost done. Just a little more soap and water on the cuts, which OW, hurt like hell, and maybe a bandage for his sprained ankle. The bruising had finally dialed down, and now it just looked like he had a really fat ankle.
His biggest problem was the Shiishaa-given claw wound that spread from his lower abdomen to his chest. He deserved it, really. Not being able to dodge a Shiishaa like that was really low for the esteemed great leader of the Phantom Thieves.
Akira wasn’t sure why regular dia casts and even just medicine hadn’t been working for him lately.
They at least made things semi-bearable, but nothing was going away. At this rate, infiltrating Konoe’s Jail seemed like a feat he’d never complete. But failure wasn’t an option, not for someone like him. Too many lives were on his shoulders, so what if it cost him his own in the process? He-
Oh.
Akira was crying. Sobbing, actually, into his palms in the dark empty public restroom he chose as the place to clean himself up in.
There you go, overthinking about every damn thing again.
He looked up at the mirror. His torso was completely wrapped in gauze, most of it already stained with blood. He resembled somewhat of a walking corpse, with his pale skin and bloodshot eyes from crying. His under-eye circles were worse than ever before, and he even looked thinner.
The makeup he borrowed (stole but returned after he was done) from Ann had definitely been helping conceal his injuries, but the tube was running out, and his condition was only getting worse. He wanted to ask for help, he felt like he needed it at this point, but something inside him wouldn’t let him do it. It was like asking for help was admitting that he was struggling, which was something he had never done before.
It was always him who helped others. His friends came to him, not the other way around. That was just part of being the leader.
Right?
“Hey, kid? You in here? What’s-”
Zenkichi stopped dead in his tracks. It wasn’t surprising, the sight he had just witnessed would make anyone freeze.
“Akira!” The older man ran to Akira’s aid, but the teenager backed away, a terrifying expression of fear on his face.
“What happened kid? Please, let me help you.” Zenkichi kneeled down, offering a hand.
The way he was being treated like a lost puppy made Akira sick to his stomach. As if it was a reflex, Akira batted him away. “I’m fine! Gramps, seriously you should go- Agh!”
The pain coming from Akira’s claw wound cut his sentence short. It was becoming unbearable.
Watching Akira curl into himself out of pure embarrassment for being seen in this state was like a punch to the gut for Zenkichi. The kid would rather bleed out on the floor than accept help from anyone.
“Let me see your wound, I can help,” Zenkichi asked, calmly, like he does when interviewing victims. “Akira, please.”
Akira took a deep breath before giving in and complying, raising his shirt and revealing his wounds to him.
Zenkichi couldn’t believe it. How had the kid hidden these for so long? Why wasn’t healing magic working on him? Granted, he wasn’t fully used to the whole persona thing, but Makoto’s diarama’s seemed to work fine on everyone else.
It felt like his heart and brain were racing faster than ever before. He wanted to help Akira so bad, to make him feel comfortable and safe, but hell he couldn’t even help his own daughter when she needed it most. What was he supposed to do now?
“Listen, it’s going to be okay, kiddo. I’m going to stitch that wound up for you. Just wait here while I get my bag.” Zenkichi basically sprinted out of the restroom and retrieved his first aid kit. When he got back to Akira, he hadn’t moved, which was good, but he wasn’t moving, which was bad.
“No, no, Akira. Wake up, stay with me.” Zenkichi shook Akira gently until his eyes fluttered open. “Atta boy. You’ve lost a lot of blood, so I’m going to have to do this fast, okay?”
The kid nodded sleepily and Zenkichi got to work, stitching from the bottom up.
After analyzing Akira’s stomach, it finally made sense to Zenkichi. It was a claw mark no healing magic could cure, not if Akira didn’t have the willpower to live.
Which was, concerning, to say the least. How long had the kid been struggling in silence like this?
It wasn’t just the claw mark either. Akira’s entire frame was covered in bruises and scars, which made sense given his day job, but it still made Zenkichi uneasy. Was it wrong to feel that no teenager should have to go through what Akira has? He saved the world but lost himself in the process.
For now, he would make sure the kid gets the help he needs.
***
It was early morning and Akira woke up to the smell of coffee. For a moment, before opening his eyes, he could have sworn he was laying down in his bed above Leblanc. But then the memory of last night came flooding back in, and he felt nauseous again.
He felt very well rested, which was strange given the circumstances.
Sitting up, Akira ran his palm along his stomach. The ridges in the stitches felt foreign, but it was comforting to know he wasn’t bleeding out anymore. He scanned the RV, looking for the rest of the thieves.
But as his eyesight focused, Akira realized they weren’t here. Zenkichi sat in the driver’s seat, drinking coffee and reading a newspaper.
Wait, what time is it?
His phone was nowhere to be found, but he figured it was with the others since they wouldn’t leave Sophia out.
He rubbed his eyes again, sitting straighter. “Uh...Zenkichi?” He asked, quietly.
The officer turned to face the back of the RV, setting his mug and newspaper down.
“Hey, kid. How’d you sleep?” he asked, a new tone in his voice. It was gentle, or...fatherly? Akira couldn’t quite place it.
“Really well, actually. Where’s everyone else?” He was praying they hadn’t gone into the Jail without him.
“Konoe’s Jail,” Zenkichi casually replied, taking another sip of his coffee.
Immediately Akira sprung out of bed and headed for his shoes, which were sitting by the table.
“Stay put, Akira. They’ll be fine, you need to rest. It’ll just get worse if you don’t.” Zenkichi shifted out of his seat and moved to the back, swiping Akira’s shoes before he could put them on.
As expected, Akira frowned. “No, I can't! What if something happens and I’m not there to-”
The older man cut him off before he could finish. “They’re fine. They said they would pull out if things got too dangerous.”
Reluctantly, Akira sat back down feeling defeated. There was no way Zenkichi was going to let him leave.
“Uh...thank you, for helping me last night.” The kid said, looking down at his hands.
Zenikichi crossed his arms. “You don’t need to thank me, kid. I wish I could have done more.”
“Can we talk about it?” The officer asked.
Akira sighed. “I don’t know why I’m not healing properly. It didn’t seem like a big deal at first, so I didn’t tell anyone.” He couldn’t stop the tears that began to form.
“But it got worse and is affecting my fighting now, too. I can’t dodge like normal. Even summoning Arsene is hard.” he sniffled. “It’s like, something inside me doesn’t want to get better.”
Zenkichi hadn’t said anything, so Akira kept going.
He hugged his knees and continued, “To be honest it’s…” he hesitated.
“What is it, kiddo?”
“It’s the feeling I get whenever I’m home. I thought it would stop like it did last year in Tokyo. I thought maybe seeing my friends would help, but I think knowing that I have to go back so soon this time is making me feel this way.” he thought he was rambling, but the look on Zenkichi’s face was one of concern and understanding. It was refreshing to see.
Zenkichi had never considered what the kid’s home life could be like. From the looks of it, it wasn’t good.
“What’s wrong at home?” Zenkichi asked, carefully.
The big question. Akira never talked about home in front of the others, especially not Zenkichi.
“They weren’t too happy with my probation, or how it ended. They-” he was starting to choke up. The events of November 20th were difficult for him to talk about without having to relive it. Even if he was drugged, for some god-awful reason Akira can remember that night like it was yesterday.
“I still had my...injuries from the interrogation room. They didn’t even ask. They didn’t care, Zenkichi.” he looked up, surprised to find the man looking like he was using all his might to fight back tears. And with that, Zenkichi got up and went for a hug. Akira returned it, sniffling into his shoulder. Zenkichi was warm and he felt at ease, leaning into the touch.
They stayed like that for a moment before Zenkichi leaned back and put his hand on Akira’s shoulder. “I’m so sorry, kid. You need to know that the other guys and I are always one call away. If things get worse, I’m confident your old guardian would take you in in a heartbeat. And, if not, Akane could always use an older brother,” he joked, but the intention was serious.
“That really means a lot,” Akira replied.
“The worst thing you can do when you’re struggling is to distance yourself from your friends. Every single one of them would drop what they’re doing in a heartbeat to be there for you, you know that, right?”
Akira nodded, smiling softly. It was true, he did have amazing friends.
“Same goes for me. Hell, I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t tempted to go beat some sense into your parents right now.” That was the nice way to put it. It took every bit of him to hide the pure anger he felt right now for Akira’s shitty parents.
“I know you would, you have no impulse control.” Akira teased.
Good, this was the Akira Kurusu he remembered. Smug little asshole. Zenkichi hoped it meant he was feeling better.
The kid wiped his eyes. “Oh man, I just woke up and I already feel beat.”
Zenkichi laughed. “Go back to sleep, I’ll wake you up when they get back.”
Akira didn’t argue. He decided to take advantage of Zenkichi’s offer and plopped back down into his bed. He dwelled on the fuzzy feeling filling his chest for a bit before falling right back asleep.
For the first time in a while, he felt safe.