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Fate can be a fucked-up thing. Years of grief and anger, one step toward the truth and two steps back, denial and more denial—everything leads up to a battle Sugiura can’t fight.
Heavy rain batters the rooftops of the ADDC, and chemical fumes choke the air. Sugiura winces as he bumps his head against a lab drawer’s handle. He presses a hand against his wound, feeling pain with every shaky breath. One bitter laugh, then another. His grief-laden years led him to broken glass and blood-stained floors. Shattered, marred, just like him. Through bleary eyes, Sugiura tries to look at anything but the monster beside him.
“Allow me to help—”
“Don’t touch me,” Sugiura cuts him off, seething. Shono backs away.
A single glance, and Sugiura whips his head back, grimacing at the motion. Bastards like him feigning sympathy—hilarious. There’s nothing to find in those cold, soulless eyes.
It’s a chaotic dance of pounding feet and swift punches sound beyond the doors. Legs sweep low, kicks strike high, chairs fly. What Sugiura wouldn’t do but join the fight himself, yet here he remains, injured beside his sister’s killer. A soon-to-be hero and a fuck-up.
Still, Sugiura doesn’t give in. He’s lived through spite and anger, and he’ll do it again.
Glass shatters across the main room, and he sees Yagami doubled-over and catching his breath. It’s short-lived as Kuroiwa lifts himself over the window ledge, stumbles, and faces Yagami again. He shoves a needle in his chest and yells, unhinged as fuck. Sugiura watches, inwardly satisfied with every kick that Yagami lands in his stead. Blood spatters onto the ground with each frenzied hit, and Kuroiwa loses his edge. Kicks miss. A chair knocks him flat on his back. Yagami lands a punch, then another. Nose, jaw, gut. Kuroiwa doubles over in strangled pain, cursing through gritted, bloody teeth.
Stuck in his head, Sugiura doesn’t hear the rustling beside him, Shono takes a deep, determined breath and stands. A few unsteady steps, and he walks forward.
The bastard can stand while he stays crumpled on the ground—wonderful. Using his legs, Sugiura scoots his body toward the entryway, barely keeping himself up against the heavy door.
“Yagami-san!” The warning comes out raspy.
He watches uselessly as Shono takes step after step toward Kuroiwa. Kuroiwa laughs and pivots to him, hand aimed at his throat. A storm of bullets leaves him gasping for air, instead.
And now, Shono takes the stage, a villain ready for his monologue.
“I’m going to show you once and for all!” Shono announces, holding a lifetime of research in his hand.
Sugiura takes out his phone. He’ll show the world.
Come on, steady breaths, steady breaths. He repeats the words to himself as his trembling hand grips the phone. Sugiura films the syringe, the resolution in Shono’s voice as he brings the needle to his neck. Anger builds as Shono makes excuse after bullshit excuse: AD-9 will save millions, and sacrifices were made for the greater good. It was fine for Okubo to take the blame; it was fine for Emi to die. Fuck all of that. What would his dead family think about the path that he’s walked?
The needle goes in, then out. Shono goes on and on about how it all leads to this moment, and then his body seizes.
Well, shit. His family’s about to find out.
Shono drops harshly onto both knees, hunched over and heaving air. His whole body convulses. He clutches his head and screams, guttural and beyond saving. Sugiura captures the scream that dies with Shono, the thud of his body on the floor. The syringe stays between locked fingers, the last symbol of his failure.
There’s commotion, hurried footsteps, shouting of directions. Footsteps rush toward him.
“You got it all?” It’s Yagami’s voice.
“Yeah, I…” Sugiura says, his vision fading. “I...I got it…”
It’s the last he remembers as the world goes dark.
Sugiura awakes to the sound of beeping monitors. Hurried steps and voices fill the air, urgent and often. Check vitals, check rooms for incoming survivors.
Someone grasps his hand. His mother weeps, grateful that he’s still here with them. His father joins her. Their voices fade with his consciousness, though he catches some of their words. Not fatal, he’ll be all right, he’s safe now...
Commotion continues beyond the hospital room. His father squeezes his hand in comfort. There’s no scolding unlike the early days of climbing fences and leaping across rooftops. This wound is more than a bruise or a twisted ankle. He doesn’t know what to do with their concern.
But something he does know? He’s had enough of hospitals.
Sleep reaches out for him, and he accepts its embrace. Visions of Emi appear behind closed eyes, and fragments of her voice echo in his mind. Everything feels muffled, and he can’t catch any words.
He remembers Yagami telling him about seeing Emi, that they’d talk about it after the battle. He’ll make him remember. He’s good at that.
You there, Emi? It’ll be okay, so rest easy now.
Sugiura prides himself in his swift recovery, and days after the ordeal, the hospital discharges him. His parents fuss over him in a way he hasn’t seen in years, asking about what he needs and how they can help him. He says he needs space. That's what they give him.
It’s early afternoon, he thinks. His parents are at work among the world that keeps turning. The police are collecting evidence from his phone (they take a long-ass time, apparently), and he can’t keep his hands busy through mindless scrolling. Not that this would bring him any ease, for AD-9’s dark truth floods global news feeds. Excerpts of Director Kido’s testimony go viral, with Sugiura’s video footage to supplement the words. Twice, he exposes the truth; tenfold, his anger swells. Victories can’t take away the grief, and he laments the memories that could’ve been.
Moping in bed doesn’t answer his questions. Maybe fresh air can clear his head.
Kamurocho is the same, as always. Hood up and hands in his pockets, Sugiura takes his time strolling through the streets with no destination in mind. With his time in the burglary ring, he knows the city's hidden alleys and corners by heart. A break in Poppo with tuna onigiri in hand, and he walks on, noticing how the sun reflects off a rooftop’s guardrail. It guards no memories.
The solid pounding of feet against concrete, the exhilaration of flight, his beating heart—it all felt so damn good. Arms spread as he taunted the cops and leapt off the ledge? The best. Looking back, they were all distractions from the emptiness, the pain of his memories. After the quick rush, his heart was slow, somber. There was no thrill in seeking answers washed away in blood, extinguished by flames, gone with the smoke.
He was alone, back then. Now, he reconsiders.
Sugiura wanders across street after crowded street, and he finds himself in front of Charles. The exterior’s chipped paint and neon sign are like another home. He passes the gachapon machines, only to return to one with coins in hand. Holding the capsule satisfies the inner child he forgets to treat, and he makes a mental note to do that, once in a while.
Turning the corner, he sees the starry walls of the base of operations. The tiles are free of blood, and once-overturned plants stand in their places. Several kids play arcade games, their hands nimble and eyes laser-focused. The sight brings back fond memories of emptied pockets after a long day of school.
“Looking for Higashi-san?” the clerk greets him from the counter.
“Eh, it’s no rush.”
The clerk shrugs and knocks on the back door. He announces Sugiura’s arrival, and a moment later, Higashi exits.
“Up and walking already?” Higashi says, then looks toward the clerk. “Take a break. I’ll watch things here.”
The clerk takes the hint and bows on the way out. Sounds of button-mashing and taunting "Game Over" music fills the air. Coins jingle as they enter slots, followed by punches and lasers.
"I should really clean this place up," Higashi says, looking around the arcade. "Fresh paint job, new tiles, I don't know."
A dingy sun shines from the opposite wall. A little tired, but trying its best to give light.
“You know, the last time I was here, I was bawling my eyes out.”
“Yep.”
Sugiura feels somewhat embarrassed at the memory. Years of grief churning inside, its waves crashing, a sad ripple in a cruel ocean. He held nothing back as he cried his heart out that day. Yet, Higashi stayed. There were no words, but space. Understanding. He let him cry and cry until his eyes were puffy as hell, and he even offered his sunglasses so people wouldn’t stare on the way home. For his tough guy act and all the walls he puts up, he's a good guy.
"My bad. Caught up in my thoughts again.”
Higashi nods. "How are you holding up, really?"
"Sometimes the pain flares up, but walking's been okay. As for the rest, well… anyway. Got restless at home, so I went out, and now I'm here.” Sugiura sighs. “What about you? I mean, there were so many guys back there."
A chuckle, almost proud. "Kinda felt like the old days again, with me and Aniki. Big night in town, laying it on them, just doing our thing. And with everything going on, us going to court wasn’t on the top of their list."
“So it all worked out, in a way.” Sugiura leans against the counter, arms lazily crossed in front of him. “You haven’t told me about you and Kaito-san, in the past. Take my mind off things?”
Higashi takes a look at the arcade, then leans beside Sugiura. “Where to start…? Well, we met back in middle school. He always had that confident air around him, and I admired it. I wasn’t really the bold type growing up, but I like to think I watched out for people like me.”
“Not a bad thing. We need more people who actually care.”
“Heh, you’re not wrong,” Higashi says. “Anyway, one thing led to another, and we had to drop out. Only choice left was to join the yakuza—needed support, and all that.”
“Makes sense. I guess I was more of a lone wolf type. Maybe I got it from my sister, who knows? We shared that, among other things.”
Higashi’s face softens at the mention of Emi. “Sounds like you two were close.”
“Pretty close, yeah.” Sugiura offers a smile, however slight. “When she started her residency, she’d tell me how she didn’t fit in with the other nurses. Said they reminded her of high school again, how they formed cliques and gossiped about patients behind their backs. She hated that stuff.”
“Sad, but it doesn’t surprise me.”
Sugiura nods. “Even when she was busy, she always checked in with me. Didn’t change when she moved out.” He briefly tenses his shoulders, then lowers them. Hands clench, then unclench.
“No need to push yourself, if it’s hard. I’d be kinda worried if it wasn’t.”
“I’m good, I’m good. It helps to talk about her good sides, I think. She has a lot of them.” Sugiura shakes off the feeling. “Thanks for listening to all that. You’re all right, you know?”
“If people keep saying it, guess I should take it to heart,” Higashi shrugs. “It’s not a bad thing, trying to do good when the world’s out to get you.”
“You got my back, I got yours?”
Higashi just laughs. “Hopefully I won’t need it any time soon, but yeah. I’ve got it.”
Talking like this feels nice. It reminds him that he’s good at heart despite the circumstances. Maybe Higashi feels the same.
“Um, excuse me?”
Sugiura turns toward the voice. “What’s up?”
A boy points toward the flashing “Game Over” screen and shakes his head. “This game’s really hard. Been doing it over and over, but I can’t win!”
“Let’s see… oh, I know this game! You got coins?”
“Yeah!” the boy searches his pockets, then frowns. “Oh, nope.”
“I got it,” Sugiura smiles, and he holds up a banknote.
“Whoa, really?”
“ ‘Course. You can keep the rest,” Sugiura smiles. He exchanges the money for coins and returns to the game. Through muscle memory, he remembers the patterns he’s pressed on countless arcade machines. All the tickets and prizes he won, all the joy and pride—it’s something he can pass along.
The boy watches in awe as he works his magic, and the screen flashes with glorious victory. “That was so cool!”
“Heh, still got it in me,” Sugiura says, partly to brag and partly to reassure himself. “You gotta be quick at that one part, and remember to dodge, okay?”
“Okay!”
It’s another day in Kamurocho. This day happens to remind him of his kinder side, and he needs all the reminders he can get.
A few days pass, and Sugiura scrolls through his recently-returned phone. Several texts greet him, as well as a missed call. He hastily returns it, tapping his foot as he waits. Two dial tones later, Yagami answers.
“Sugiura?”
“Yeah. Sorry ‘bout the wait. Just got my phone back this morning.”
“No worries. You doing all right?”
“Trying my best,” Sugiura shrugs. “Anyway, what did you need to talk about?”
“I scheduled another meeting with Okubo in a few days. They’re handling things on their end, but all in all, Okubo’s in the clear. He’ll be released soon.”
“It’s about time, huh? Thanks for letting me know.” Sugiura pauses, unsure what to say.
“Still there?”
Sugiura lowers the phone away from his ear, thumb ready to end the call. He doesn’t. "Actually... you think I could come with you?" he asks, a rare waver in his voice. “If that’s okay, I mean. I’ve been wanting to talk to him.”
A pause, brief. "I could make the arrangements. You sure now?"
Always so sure of himself, and now, he hesitates. Who would’ve thought he’d ever say these words aloud? Would Okubo even want to face him? Their last meeting wasn’t exactly rainbows and sunshine. But Yagami passed on his message, and Okubo received it well. No need for masks; he’ll face this head-on.
"I'm sure. Thanks, Yagami-san."
“I’ll text you when I have news. Rest up for now."
Yagami ends the call, and Sugiura follows. He tosses the phone on his bed and takes several deep breaths. There’s a lot to think about, and he doesn’t want to do that, at all. Not now. Time for another walk.
With music playing through his earbuds, he clears his head in town. Maybe a trip to the store for that good old retail therapy, and—
“Poki! Poki—ah, damn it!”
A blur of orange passes by, then the shine of a familiar silk shirt.
“Should I ask, Kaito-san?”
Kaito rests his hands on his knees and takes one ragged breath after another. “You know that cat café in town? I was walking by when one jumped out the window and damn near landed on me. Owner called out for help, and here I am.” Kaito pauses to cough and heave air. “Help me out while you’re here, yeah?”
He runs off without waiting for an answer. Body responding before his mind, Sugiura follows him. Anything’s an adventure with Kaito around.
“Where the hell did Poki go?”
“You keep yelling like that, of course they’d run the fuck away.”
Sugiura trails the determined Kaito across the streets. He’s light on his feet, pivoting and sidestepping between people with ease. In front, he hears Kaito’s “ ‘scuse me” as he bumps into disgruntled workers and acts like nothing happened. One turn after another, and the cat’s closer in sight.
An object flies into Sugiura’s face, and he yells in shock. He wrenches it off and looks down—a blond wig.
A man in a flashy outfit runs up to him. “Oh, thank goodness!”
He has a lot of questions, but it’s not really his business. “Uh, here’s your hair back.”
“My hat!” the man corrects, but he’s off like the breeze.
Three crashes into bike racks later, Sugiura sees a moving mound of orange on a building’s fire escape. He prompts Kaito, who runs with the lightest steps he can manage. Poki leaps and ambles along a window ledge with ease, stopping only to groom themselves. Sugiura ascends several steps and jolts to a stop, clutching his side.
“Hey, let me do the climbing from here on,” Kaito says. “Gotta take it easy.”
Sugiura fails to hide the pain and obliges. “You actually care, huh?”
“Don’t get used to it,” he waves a hand at him. “Got the best food I could find at Don Quijote. See if I can get ‘em to move, and be ready, just in case.”
Kaito reaches Poki’s level and holds out pieces of cat food, probably making those cat sounds that people do. Sugiura watches from below, staying beneath the cat in case they run off. It takes a few attempts and Kaito stepping on the ledge himself, but he easily coaxes Poki into his arms.
“Cute fella,” Kaito dotes on Poki. “C’mon, let’s give the manager the good news.”
Walking back, Sugiura holds the rest of the cat food while Kaito carries Poki in his arms. He watches Kaito stroke Poki’s fur gently and—is that cooing? Yeah, definitely cooing. It’s kind of refreshing to see strong-headed Kaito soften up.
“Oh, my Poki!" the manager says upon spotting them. "You’ve got dirt all over your fur! Let’s get you cleaned up.”
The manager coos and dotes, then remembers he has guests. “Ah, thank you both so much! Please, come in! Allow me to treat you both to a drink!”
“Wouldn’t mind a latte myself,” Kaito says with a smile. “Sticking around, Sugiura?”
“Sure, why not?”
How long has it been since he’s received genuine thanks? He’s used to being in the shadows, another nuisance to sweep away.
Wooden decorations and the aroma of coffee add warmth to the atmosphere, inviting for guests and cats alike. Across the room, cats walk along the wall shelves and curl up into themselves. A pair of customers coo as a fluffy cat jumps into their lap. Oh, to be a cat and be loved for doing nothing.
“Pretty sweet place you got here,” Kaito says, watching a cat nuzzle the manager’s arm. “The cats seem to like you, too. Heard that’s not always the case, with them having their own personalities, and all.”
“You’re right!” the manager answers amidst the humming of the espresso machine. “It wasn’t always this way, though. A lot of them would run away, but I knew they wouldn’t last long in the streets. They didn’t have a home to begin with, either.”
“So you’re saying they’re strays?” Sugiura joins in.
“Every single one,” the manager answers. “The city’s not too fond of strays, and they’d get rid of them without a second thought. I couldn’t allow that! Ah, but I can’t take all the credit, for there was a man who gathered the strays here. Looked stern, but was quite kind! Wouldn’t be open if it wasn’t for him.”
“Heh, there’s still decent people around,” Kaito says, drinking the rest of his latte. “Now that I think about it, yakuza are kinda like strays trying to find a place in the world. And after everything with Matsugane-san, people are still looking. Things were up in the air, but now they’re reeling the kite in, bit by bit.”
“That was almost poetic.”
“I always am.” Kaito sighs, then leans back against the couch. “But really, it was the only place where it felt like you had each other’s backs. Add all the fancy words and shit you want, but in the end, people just wanna belong.”
“Guess so,” Sugiura takes a sip of his coffee. “For me, I could only rely on myself, even after I tried setting up a group of my own. Even with you guys, I wasn’t being fully honest for a long time. I didn’t know who or what to trust, and doing what I did helped me feel in control, even for a second, and—ugh, I don’t know where I’m going with this.”
“No rush, you’ve been through a lot. But hey, if you ever need something, I’m a call away. Or maybe you’ll just run into me.”
The swirls of emotions settle in Sugiura’s mind, slowly but surely. “Is this when I burst into tears from all the feelings? Already did that this week.”
“Nothin’ wrong with doing it again. You could also cuddle a cat to make you feel better.”
Sugiura jolts as a sudden, fluffy weight settles upon his lap. Poki gives his thanks as another mound of fluff joins, then another. “H-hey, whoa!”
“Ha! Well, there you go.”
All right, the cats are pretty cute. Sugiura strokes the soft fur, and the cat purrs. Several curl up against Kaito’s lap, and he relaxes against the couch.
“Guess we’re gonna be here a while, Kaito-san.”
“Want seconds?”
“You’re paying.”
With the passing storm comes the lingering air, the stillness. Grounding and unnerving, but also hopeful. The hope scares him, though. Picking up the pieces won’t be easy, but he has the opportunity, and he’s not alone anymore.
Sugiura looks out the taxi window, tuning out the world around him. He's like the main character in a movie: sunlight against his fringe, music through his earbuds, quiet introspection. If he wasn't so nervous, he’d laugh at the realization. Do movies show the pulling of frayed drawstrings? The tapping against his fingernails? Nah, not picture-perfect enough. It’s fine. He’s not perfect.
The driver drops the pair off near the detention center. Seeing that it’s still early, Yagami motions toward a nearby bench, and Sugiura follows. The sun starts to come out.
“Yagami-san,” he begins. “Remember when we were in the hospital looking for Kuroiwa?”
“Hard to forget.”
“Yeah, well,” Sugiura fidgets, clenching and unclenching his hands. “I asked if you heard Emi’s voice, and you said we’d talk about it later. Now’s later.”
Yagami nods at the realization. “Let’s see… I saw visions of the past as I walked through those halls. I saw my younger self talking to her. So confident, like I had it all figured out.”
The leaves rustle above them, and Sugiura takes a deep breath. “And then?”
"I saw her walk up to me. She told me to help Okubo… and you, too. Heh, said you were stubborn, but meant well. Now I see how right she is.”
Sugiura laughs, a light that shines through the heaviness. "Emi always saw the best in me, no matter how many times I fucked up. And you know what?"
"Hm?"
"When she talked to me back there, too, I…" He pauses, feeling the emotions build. "She said I was trying my best despite everything. She wished things could’ve worked out differently so I didn’t have to get hurt, but that I had the strength to see things through to the end. A slow crawl’s still going forward.”
Emi’s words were a salve to his wounds. He didn't know how much he needed to hear her words, so calm and reassuring. She would’ve been a great doctor.
"It still hurts, remembering how they all lied and pretended they knew nothing. It took everything I had to hold myself together. And you saw me... I couldn’t even do that." The armor cracks, shatters into knives and trembling hands over cold shoulders. He wonders how many tormented souls continue to wander through sterile hospital halls, their voices unheard. What other answers are hidden away? What other truths are left to uncover?
“I don’t blame you for how you reacted,” Yagami says after a pause. “It’s not as easy as saying one type of justice is better than the other, and that was your way. Even so, my actions had an impact on you, and I don’t want to sweep that aside. I don’t expect things to be a hundred percent okay between us—that’s for you to decide.”
“Right,” Sugiura sighs. “I’ve been thinking about that, and realized I’ve got some things to work out. Even considered seeing a professional, but I keep talking myself out of it.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, it’s not something people really talk about here. Feels like I’m not the type of person who needs it, but now I know that’s bullshit.” Living life involves wearing masks, changing, discarding them when they lose their purpose—all while the person inside loses themselves.
“If you do go through with it, that’s a big first step. It’s worth a shot.”
“A slow crawl’s still going forward,” Sugiura repeats Emi’s words. “I’ll think it over, then.”
Light reflects off the city’s buildings. The once rain-soaked pavement dries beneath the sun. No obstacles lie in their path.
“Looks like it’s time,” Yagami makes his way toward the front entrance. “Ready to go in?”
Sugiura drops his tense shoulders. “Ready as I’ll ever be.”
The two walk through the halls, and Sugiura waits outside the meeting room once Yagami enters. He reminisces on the past, mulls over the words he’ll say. Soon, Emi will see that he and Okubo are all right, and she’ll be able to rest.
He hears Yagami’s cue. A deep breath, and he opens the door, ready to forgive.
Fate can be all right.