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Akira lived a simple life after being incarcerated. He no longer had to steal money to get a hot lunch. The members of the Speedwagon Foundation made sure that he received three square meals a day even though the meals were served on red rectangular plastic trays.
“Your Stand hasn’t manifested since the battle with Josuke,” one of the workers read from a clipboard.
“Uh huh. Josuke straight up killed my Stand,” Akira said between spoonfuls of white rice, “And you Speedwagon guys made sure I was put in a cell with no electricity. So if Chili Peppers showed up, I wouldn’t have no way to mess with yous.”
The worker wrote something down then left. Akira tapped the plastic spoon against the tray trying to remember what he had to ask the worker. When he began to hum, he remembered that he wanted a notebook and pencil so he could write down song compositions. With the realization, he rolled over and took a nap out of frustration. Later on, the worker would return and collect the tray with most of the food remaining.
During the free time, he was still monitored by the Speedwagon members. He walked around the fenced in dirt patch that was called ‘the playground.’ The two Speedwagon workers followed about a meter behind. The other inmates were engaged in a game of baseball. They were given a wiffle ball instead of an actual baseball; a plastic kids’ bat instead of a metal bat. The batter, a man easily over six feet tall, took a swing at the white ball with his comedically small red bat. Contrasted against the Byzantine yellow sky of Morioh, the scene held its own bizarre air that the town boasted.
“Did you read the new installment of Pink Dark Boy?” one of the workers asked the other.
“Oh man you know it. That Rohan Kishibe, he’s a genius,” the other replied.
Akira shoved his hands into the pockets of his orange jumpsuit. He quickened his pace at the thought of Rohan Kishibe. He had seen him a few weeks before at a supermarket.
The Incident
It was a Mom and Pop supermarket. The kind where locals bring in their own produce and goods in hopes of making a quick buck. Akira had recently come into some money albeit through illegal means. He was planning getting a fast and hot lunch but he got bogged down in decisions. There was packages of beef that had been reduced in price. His diet consisted primarily of sandwiches and rotting fruits and veggies. Being able to eat meat was a major treat, so he wanted to make sure that he got the best. The beef was of good standard but he tried to figure out what fat to lean ratio was best when he saw Rohan out the corner of his eye.
“Rohan? Rohan Kishibe?” Akira waved him down.
“A fan?” Rohan took out a pen from his back pocket, “You have to supply the paper for the signature.”
“No, it’s me. Akira Otoishi from primary school,” a blank stare from Rohan, “Yoshikage Kira was my babysitter and we’d go over to Reimi Sugimoto’s house and have play dates.”
“I have no idea who the hell are you.”
“There was that one time when you tried to propose to Reimi cause you had some kind of rivalry with Kira. Aya Tsuji filmed the whole thing and I thought it was a music video. So at the end when you tried to kiss her, I started to sing and dance. I pushed you out the way and you knocked her into Kira’s arms. You got so mad at me that you attacked me and scratched me all up. There was one really bad one here on my face. Aya put a bandage on it, but it never healed so I have a scar now. Well I mean, it’s covered with this makeup cause it ain’t so big but then I realized that having a scar would make me seem like a cooler musician.”
“Nope. All I know now is that you sure do like to make up stories.”
“Well shit, you go off to Tokyo, become a famous comic artist, and don’t remember people that you beat up. Whatever see you later.”
The clerk was an old man who should’ve been at home watching game shows with his grandkids instead of working. Akira paid for his groceries. Small talk was exchanged about how their days were and hopes for rain. At the checkout, Akira could feel that someone was staring at him. It was Rohan who seemed to be trying to place him.
A few days after Jotaro interrogated him about the rats, he returned. Akira was not fond of him, so far as to say that he was scared of him.
“Otoishi,” Jotaro said from the other side of the bars.
He turned around. His chin resting firmly on his hand. He had shot two rats but the Speedwagon Foundation already got that out of him. The Bow and Arrow was confiscated before he could have done more damage so there was no reason as to why Jotaro would be back so soon.
Jotaro stepped away from the bars, “You have a visitor.”
It was Rohan. He thanked Jotaro for accompanying him then cleared his throat.
This is what was spoken.
Rohan: Akira Otoishi…
Akira: Oh so now you know who I am? You seemed pretty clueless at the market the other day.
Rohan: That’s partially my fault. You remember Reimi Sugimoto?
Akira: Pretty dang hard. I remember you had the biggest crush on her when we were kids.
Rohan: She died.
Akira: Yeah about fifteen years ago… That’s old news. Why did you find her killer or something?
Rohan: [looks over to Jotaro who shifts his weight] Actually no… I met her. Her spirit that is. I blocked all my memories from my childhood which is why I didn’t remember who you were at the store.
Akira: You were staring at me mighty hard that day. I got home and I bought the wrong type of beef cause of you. It was too fatty and had to throw most of it away.
Rohan: ...Well I was trying to jog my memory and you mentioned Aya Tsuji right?
Akira: She was always at Reimi’s. Handy with makeup and I’d always beg her to do mine. She was cool. I’d bug Kira to bring me over just so I could see her. I mean, you were cool to Rohan but not as cool as her. When I get out, can you draw something for my first album? I’ve been writing a few songs and I think I’m gonna make it big. It’ll just take some-
Jotaro: Tell him why you’re here Rohan.
Rohan: Aya Tsuji was killed the other day. We believe it was the same person that killed Reimi Sugimoto.