Chapter Text
I won't let go.
Even if you do.
I won't.
...
"Wake up."
Akechi Goro opens his eyes to bright sunlight. It scatters across his face, casting long shadows over his lashes, making his skin warm in a way that is wholly unpleasant and something that he doesn’t wish to contend with alongside the haze of drowsiness. The world swims weakly into focus, the feeling of not knowing where he is, or what he was doing before. As he sits up he comes to the abrupt conclusion that he was, in fact, riding a train. A bullet train, to be precise. With how quickly the landscape moves past the window there is no doubt. Before his very eyes the trees and fields are already disappearing into stretches of city and suburbia.
"You almost missed your stop."
Akechi moves his head quicker than his body is prepared for. It strains the muscles in his neck, causing a painful twinge to run up a tendon, and a loud crack to sound. He winces briefly.
Beside him perches an elderly woman, her gray hair pulled back tight into a bun. She wears a pastel blue shirt with a long black skirt, and though there hang no clouds in the sky beyond the train's window, she has an umbrella sitting perfectly horizontal over her lap. Both her hands clutch it tightly. It is not a white-knuckled grip, but it is one that Akechi marks as strange all the same.
His eyes meet her amber ones and she smiles something between polite and thinned, fraying. He can't get a true read on her.
Though the woman is perfectly polite it does not stop him from noticing what is missing – the trill of others talking. The warmth of bodies packed into the small compartment. The breath of children fogging the window.
The train is silent around them.
"You've been asleep for a long time."
Her voice rings out clear as a bell. Akechi winces again; her voice feels loud and concussive against the unnatural silence of the train.
His mouth is dry when he speaks, tongue sticking behind his teeth and lips cracking painfully. "Where are we headed for?"
The woman does not seem to think this strange. Of course this train could only be headed for one place.
"The end of the line."
Akechi does his best to smooth his brows down into one of polite curiosity though they urge to uptick into annoyance. He clenches his teeth as he speaks. "And where is that?"
"Oh," the woman looks across the aisle and towards the other window. The seats parallel to them are empty so there is a full view as the train begins to slow down from its breakneck pace into more of a friendly jaunt, "Shibuya Station."
As she says it, he cannot help but begin to recognize the skyscrapers that tower over the landscape now. Most of them are marked with billboards, advertisements ranging from skincare products to the newest movies. Cars burst past in blurry waves, lost between pavement and concrete somewhere along the way.
"Of course." He says, nodding more to himself than to her. She does not look at him regardless, and all he can see is the back of her head now. Her immaculate bun is unmoved, held in place by a singular hairstick with one, delicate golden butterfly on the end.
The train begins to slow to a smooth halt. The station is strangely empty. No one waits to board. The attendant's voice does not chime helpfully overhead to signal their arrival. All is as still and quiet.
"It's time for you to go."
"I know."
"Do you know where you're headed?"
Akechi frowns and tilts his head downwards. Grasped firmly between two fingers is another train ticket. This one states, in crisp, well defined, black font that his next train is one heading from Shibuya Station to Yogen-Jaya.
"Yes."
The old woman nods and stands from her seat. He is finally able to move from his spot against the window. The blue velvety down of the cushion seems reluctant to let him go and as he squeezes out from his row he realizes that, at least on this car, there is no one on the train other and himself and the woman.
Akechi leaves her there, walking down the stretch of baby blue carpeting before he turns back to see if she had followed him.
He turns back to see if she has followed him.
There are nothing but empty seats.
He steps off the train.