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Shinonome Akito was not a talented person.
Growing up, this was something he'd always known. He'd given up on soccer because it simply didn't work anymore. He couldn't draw like his sister, or even imagine the impressive clothing designs she created as she got older.
When he entered the world of music, he thought that he'd finally found something for him. His thing. Somewhere he could finally belong, where he could finally be himself, surrounded by people his age who were just like him.
But in the end, everything was for naught. A couple well-phrased words of discouragement from Tono Arata was all it took to shake the group's morale, and before long, one question was abundantly clear every time they met up: "Can we really do this? Can we really surpass Rad Weekend?"
But in the end, it was Kohane who chose to split off from the group. Kohane, who had been a mere nervous nobody, and would've remained that way had she not joined them, leaving the group to crumble as she paved her own way to success.
An followed right after her. Although Toya offered to return to Bad Dogs with Akito, he knew better. Toya had far more potential than Akito, and without Vivid BAD SQUAD, there was nothing oiling the chains Akito would trap Toya within by staying.
And so, Akito gave up. He stayed in his room, following in his sister's footsteps, spending every moment scrolling through forums on his phone or checking out gossip sites on his laptop. Yet, he never quite distanced himself from the music he'd once so cherished – in fact, through this new lifestyle of his, he found it even harder to avoid than ever.
It wasn't long until he caught wind of plagiarists within a similar field of music as his sister's. There were those who coaxed others to work for them with no recognition or reward, as well. Sometimes, producers were even outed for despicable acts fully unrelated to their careers. This corner of the Internet was a sick and dark place, full of twisted individuals who lied every day just to get by. Most of the time, ignorant passersby didn't even know of this other side to their world, nor did they search to find it.
Akito had nothing left. He had nothing he wanted to do. Nothing he wanted to be. If anything, he could at least clean up some of the scum hiding out on these sites – he could expose them for their terrible deeds, and force them into repenting.
And so, he created a fake identity for himself. Someone who wasn't quite him, yet an identity that Akito could hold close enough to his own, and thus could claim the satisfaction and elation of stopping these disgusting adults from getting their ways.
It wasn't long before he received a bit of a following for this hobby of his. They weren't exactly the most pleasant people, but then again, he wasn't either. These people would assist him in his pursuits, sometimes ganging up on the asshole in question and convince them to give up quicker. All in all, pretty helpful.
Every now and then, Akito would come across a name he recognized. Of course, there was Nightcord at 25:00… any rumors about that one were fake though, he knew, and he valiantly defended it against any idiots who thought it was worth gossiping about. Wonderlands x Showtime seemed to be a pretty big deal now, what with their troupe having taken off around high school graduation. More More Jump was every-fucking-where he went, and he'd probably end up disclaiming it if Airi weren't such a close friend of his sister's… as for Leo/need, he didn't really hear about it that much. He figured that must've been related to how they preferred to perform in live houses, though, while Akito… hadn't gone to one of those in quite a while now.
It was around four or five years into his pursuits when everything changed, though. Akito still remembered that day – the day he stumbled upon Shiraishi An's post. It was an enthusiastic one, concerning a successful show featuring her and her girlfriend, none other than Kohane.
Akito didn't really remember what happened after that. Every day was a bit of a blur, after all. He knew he'd left a couple comments, reposted it a couple times, and An had actively responded to him too. Every now and then, Akito almost thought that she knew who he was, not just the alias on the screen… but that was absurd.
This period went on for around a week, during which Akito continuously revisited An's profile and left comments on each of her posts. Akito didn’t particularly remember most of the things he’d typed, only that the general mood of these comments were far from pleasant. He didn't bother checking other comments or anything, primarily because it would simply be too sickening to see others support this girl who had chosen a traitor over her bandmates.
And eventually, An stopped responding to his comments. She stopped posting on her account. Even after scouring the internet and unearthing Kohane’s blog in the process, all Akito had found was yet another “friend” who had ruined everything.
It was only after leaving a couple comments on one of Kohane’s posts that he noticed the flurry of other comments from his own followers, grasping onto Akito’s cynicism and blindly swinging it around like a blunt force weapon. Something about their lack of skepticism, simply following Akito in his actions, seemed a little off to him, but it wasn’t like that mattered to him. Kohane and An deserved it, right?
“What have you been up to lately?”
Sitting across the tacky diner table was Toya, fiddling with the collar of his designer jacket as he stared off to the side. His question was met with silence as Akito’s gaze trailed down to his own pocket, in which his phone laid – knowing Toya, he wouldn’t be terribly impressed with Akito’s new lifestyle. After all, they only saw each other once every several months now, what with Toya signing with a CD company a few years ago.
“The usual,” Akito finally replied with a shrug. “What d’you want, though? Not to be rude, but it’s not like we’re close friends anymore. It’s a little weird for you to ask to meet up out of the blue.”
Toya only glanced down at the table solemnly, his eyes locked onto a plate of limp, bland french fries as his brows furrowed. “Akito, do you… Do you still remember Vivid BAD SQUAD?”
Akito blinked. “Ehh?? Of course, man. Why’re you bringing that up?”
“It’s…” Toya shook his head. “It’s about An and Kohane. There was an… accident.”
Accident? Akito reached over the table, snatching one of Toya’s fries. They were getting a little cold, as Toya hadn’t eaten a bite since they’d sat down. “What’cha mean by that?”
Toya sighed. “I don’t really know all the details. Kohane was frantic when she called me, and…” He trailed off, staring at the forlorn plate of fries before wordlessly pushing it toward Akito. “She hasn’t spoken to me since An passed away.”
Akito dropped his fry.
Passed away? An? An?
“Hahh? You’re kidding, right??”
But Toya wasn’t one to tell jokes, and Akito knew that. Toya simply stared down at the table, nodding a little.
“It’s been around a month now,” he went on, a far more somber tone lacing his voice now. “I’m really worried about Kohane. Sometimes, I wonder if…”
He’s lying. He has to be.
An couldn’t be… dead. An wasn’t the kind of person to just up and die. She was probably one of the strongest people in Vivid BAD SQUAD, next to Kohane herself. There was no way.
“You… didn’t know,” Toya realized, glancing up at him. “Oh my god, you didn’t know. I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to just drop something like this on–”
“How?” Akito found himself asking. “How did she die?”
Toya hesitated, staring at him for a couple moments before reluctantly responding. “It was… by her own hand. Kohane found her in her apartment a few days later.”
By her own hand… Suicide? An committed suicide? Akito shook his head, eyes searching Toya’s for any sign of a joke or a lie. There was nothing, though. Because Toya wasn’t the person to kid around. “Why?”
“Huh?”
Akito stood up. “Why did she do it? People don’t just… just decide to kill themselves. There had to be some kind of reason…”
Toya looked down, fiddling with his rings. He knew, Akito was sure of it – if Toya was like anything he used to be, he knew exactly why.
Akito was pretty sure he knew, too. He just didn’t want to acknowledge it.
“Most people think it was because of a sudden explosion in online harassment,” Toya finally said. “One day, someone left a few hate comments on some of her posts, and then his following caught wind of it. She was receiving public death threats several times a day, and even a couple went so far as to seek her out in reality.”
Online harassment. Started by one person.
Death threats.
Akito’s hand was numb as he reached into his pocket, fingertips finding the familiar phone he so often whipped out to… to…
An was dead. An killed herself.
An was dead, and it was all because of…
“Akito?” came Toya’s voice. Distantly.
Akito didn’t quite remember running out of the diner as fast as he could, but he did remember when he got home that day, frantic to unlock the door and rush inside. He remembered when he slammed his bedroom door shut, pressing the pushlock and sliding down onto the floor.
He remembered taking out his phone. He remembered opening one forum app and checking his notifications – god, it all made sense now. He remembered searching up a familiar account, scrolling down until he found his own comment.
He continued scrolling.
The comment section went on and on, full of nasty replies and a couple death threats sprinkled in. As he switched to a different post, the results were more or less the same.
His abominable alias, wreaking havoc upon this poor girl… How could he have thought this was okay? These things he’d told her, they were terrible… This was An, An, who used to be one of his music partners, one of his best friends.
He wasn’t justified for this. He never was. His phone slid out of his grip, hitting the carpeted floor as he frantically reached for something, anything – finding a stray shirt left on the ground, he balled it up and threw it as hard as he could at the wall.
It simply made impact with a soft fwump before sliding to the floor again.
That night, he wasn’t sure how he slept. By all means, he didn’t feel tired at all – no, what he’d caused would keep him up at night for weeks to pass. But at some point, he must have fallen asleep, because he remembered waking up in…
… This isn’t my house. He glanced around, vision clearing as he stumbled to his feet.
The first thing he noticed was a change in wardrobe. Why the fuck was he wearing a pillow case now? Before he could pull it off, though, his vision caught on something far more worthy of his attention.
Bars.
He was in a prison cell. He was in fucking jail.
This has to be some kind of dream, he told himself, turning around. The cell door was shut fast, and as he ran forward to shove it, he nearly tripped over some weird ass straps fastened onto this pillowcase costume he was stuck in. Whatever, he clearly had bigger problems than fashion right now anyway.
He grasped onto the door, pulling on it a bit – unremarkably, it didn’t give at all. He scowled, muttering a long string of profanities to himself as he pulled a bit harder, then began to rattle it. Surely, this wasn’t actually a jail. He wasn’t in jail.
Though shaking on the bars accomplished nothing, and before long, he gave them one last hit before turning away. “Fuck this!”
“You do look like you’re in quite the bad mood, don’t you?” came a voice, and Akito whirled around, hair falling in his eyes in his haste. Standing down the hall was some little kid in a prison guard Halloween costume, looking down their nose at him. What the hell. What was happening.
Nonetheless, Akito kept his mouth shut as the kid approached, stopping short right before the bars. Did this kid lock him up? They only looked, like, fourteen or fifteen or something.
The kid looked him straight in the eyes, tilting their head a bit before addressing him. Their words were short, and there didn’t seem to be much intended behind them, but…
“Prisoner number three.
“Kajiyama Fuuta.”