Chapter Text
XX/XX/2012
Goro kicked a rock baking on the sidewalk, before catching up to it and kicking it again. He used to wonder just how many times he’d have to kick it for it to turn into something cool and shiny. Like something someone would keep.
Of course, that was before his future started rotting from the inside-out. Now, all he thought about was what he’d do to his father, his so-called guardians, and his teachers, if they were all this tiny little rock. Would he shove them into oncoming traffic, and watch as they broke into millions of insignificant pieces? Or would he bring them with him, delicately carry them around in his pocket, until he could break them himself?
This little rock was probably older than all of them combined. And yet here he was, still pushing it around. It seemed that, contrary to popular belief, age mattered very little here.
He sighed and looked around. It was getting dark, and he’d rather not be locked out again, today. With one last kick, he launched the rock into the air, letting it land somewhere between the tall weeds, lost and forgotten.
He often blamed his later returns from school on friends, an excuse that easily rolled off his tongue and was easily accepted by his foster parents. It was a pleasant comment they could write on their daily logs. Another reason to pat themselves on the back.
Of course, in the case of one Goro Akechi, born out of wedlock and to a nameless father, this wasn’t exactly true. He simply avoided going back. They loved when he was out of sight, and he loved being away from their constant accusations, drunken, self-righteous speeches, and threats. A win-win.
He hopped to his side and hugged his bag close to his chest to fit through a shortcut; a narrow gap between two buildings. Here he was, completely alone, with just the sound of his clothes scraping against the walls. It might be the best part of this whole town.
He almost tripped as he inched further, just barely managing to stay upright by dropping his bag and clutching the wall. Goro looked through his overgrown bangs to see an abandoned cell phone on the floor, covered in dust. It must’ve been lying there for a long time now, so he should’ve noticed it earlier. But there it was, undisturbed.
Quietly debating it in his brain, he picked it up.
As if the whole world had turned on its head, he looked up to see, not the sun, but the moon staring back. The sky looked as if it were recorded through a vintage camera, dark specks dancing in the corner of his eyes, and flickering white noise in his ears.
The phone was now covered by an occult scarlet eye, and neat words underneath reading, ‘Goro Akechi, Hatanaka Residence, Playground’. His name, and his foster home.
He threw the phone away in a panic, before forcing himself to take a deep breath. This was probably a prank; school children trying to scare him for laughs. And, as for the sky, he probably just lost track of time. Why would it be anything else?
He steeled his nerves and slowly picked up his bag again, moving out to where his foster home was supposed to be.
In its place, however, under the dim moonlight and through the fog, were two swings.
The swing on the right had one of its chains snapped apart, causing it to lie uselessly on the ground, covered in red stains. For some reason, Goro couldn’t quite convince himself it was all rust.
The swing to the left was dirtied and muddy yet still intact. It rocked back and forth, despite there being no wind and no one to push it. An unending pendulum.
He squinted. Now that he was paying attention, in the distance, perhaps fifty metres away, was a swing in pristine condition, surrounded by daffodils.
He turned back and stumbled across that phone from before. Pursing his lips, he pocketed it and bolted down the street.
Surely he’d just made a wrong turn. Why was there nobody else here? There were flies circling the streetlights and scurrying cockroaches near the dumpsters, yet not a single human soul.
He could hear whispers, though. Airy, unintelligible whispers behind every wall and every house. He grunted, and pulled out the phone, frantically searching for any hint.
Contacts, nothing. Gallery, nothing. Calendar, nothing. The only thing of note was that stupid fucking eye.
Leaves crushed behind him and he froze. Footsteps followed closely after, getting closer and closer. The air grew colder, the whispers ceased as if struck down, and he finally turned around.
In front of him, taller than any house, was a figure void of any warmth, arms dragging on the floor. It crouched down inches before his face, staring back with its maroon eyes and a hatred that felt inexplicably familiar.
He couldn’t move, couldn’t speak. He could only watch as the figure lifted up a mangled hand towards him.
Wind rushed behind him, and the figure stumbled back, crashing into a wall. His saviour walked through the fog of dust, standing proudly by his side.
His saviour, as it turned out, was a cat with a disproportionately large head, holding a sword and standing on two legs.
What sort of acid trip was he on?
The cat jumped up onto the streetlight and retrieved a slingshot from its non-existent pocket. The ammo landed with a bang, exploding straight onto the figure’s face.
A mask fell from its face, and its skin morphed into sand. Misshapen faces were carved into its sides, and it held a tiny, plastic shovel.
The figure flinched as it dug into itself with the shovel, retrieving a pile of floating sand and shooting it at the cat. As the cat jumped to avoid it, the sand split into two, attaching to both of them.
Panic creeped into his chest and he shrieked, trying to shake it off. Instead, it grew like a virus, seeping into his blood and bones. He was dying. He was actually dying.
He glanced at the cat on the floor. That’s what it deserved, right? What else could come out of helping Goro Akechi, the bastard destined to die like a wounded dog, in an alley somewhere?
He shook his head. He couldn’t prove all of them right, not like this.
A voice, cold and soothing, out of place yet familiar, echoed in his ear, “It appears my time has come.”
Red, hot pain shot through his skull, and he clutched his head, doubling over.
“Are you done bowing down to your supposed superiors? Letting the rich and the strong trample over you?” Fire blazed over his face, leaving behind a scarlet mask.
”You understand that they’ll never stop. Not until they take and take and you have nothing left,” it hummed, “I believe it’s time that you, too, take what you deserve. Wouldn't you agree?”
“You know exactly what I want,” Goro muttered, standing up straighter.
“You seem eager! Then I won’t make you wait any longer,” it laughed, “I am thou, thou art I. Shall we balance the scales a little, o’ noble thief?”
His nails scratched against his face, ripping off mask and skin alike. Looking through the blood dripping over his eyes, he couldn’t remember the last time he’s ever felt this light.
Goro dusted the sand off his clothes, “Tear them apart, Robin Hood!”
Light flashed through the streets, straight through the monster. Doors flew open, shaken off its hinges, and the figure scattered apart like dust, leaving Goro alone again.
Well, almost.
The cat gasped, waving its arms around, “Awakening a persona while having a palace!” Seriously, why could it talk? “I didn’t even think that was possible. I knew keeping you around was a good idea.”
He furrowed his eyebrows, “What the hell’s a persona or a palace? How do you know me? What even are you?”
“Right, I forgot you were still a newbie,” the cat sighed, “I’ll tell you later. Let’s get out of here first.”
The cat shuffled past him and back towards the swings, Goro following close behind. Should he let this thing go into the real world? What if the cat was some demon thing in disguise?
They reached the little gap between the buildings and he clicked his tongue. Why hadn’t he tried going through that?
The cat rushed through before he could object. “Come on,” it called back, “A thief doesn’t just stand around the scene of the crime, you know.”
Goro took one last look behind, and saw that that dirtied, muddy swing was gone. He shuddered and ran through the gap.
The world distorted around him, and he was met with sharp rays of sunlight and an innocuous black cat.
***
A god, disguised behind a bushy brow and long nose, looked on from his desk. It seemed his opponent had given this champion an unfair advantage.
He supposed it was only fair that he gave the opposite side a little support of his own.
***
XX/XX/2015
A boy with wild, black hair stared at his hands, then back at the politician sitting opposite to him. He couldn’t make out much past the ringing in his ears.
“I’m Masayoshi Shido, the leader of an upcoming party,” the politician started, voice dripping with arrogance and condescension, “I’m a man of the future, and I believe you’d be a perfect addition."
“Sorry, what?” His voice came out weak and uneven. He cleared his throat, “I’m just an ordinary sixteen year-old. Not really into politics.”
Shido frowned, “No I wouldn’t expect the youth of today to be interested in that sort of thing. But that isn’t what I meant.” He stood up, pacing around the room, “How much do you know about cognitive psience?”
“Cognitive psience,” the boy repeated, “Not much. It’s just a branch of psychology, right?”
“It relates to cognition. How individuals perceive the world,” Shido added, “By controlling cognitive psience, we control perception. Tangibly.”
“And what’s that got to do with me?”
Shido scoffed, “Cognitive research requires volunteers to make any real progress. Usually, I’m not the one scouting them, but I’m confident you’re exactly what we’re looking for.”
He talked too vaguely, like a car salesman whose product was five minutes away from falling apart. He’d seen it in his parents often enough. “Again, sir, I’m probably not the guy you’re looking for. I’ve got average grades, stamina, muscle, and whatever else you want-”
“Nothing like that,” Shido interjected, “It’s more to do with luck, and other arbitrary measures. Otherwise, I assure you, I’d be able to progress the research myself.”
The boy huffed, “But then how are you so confident that I-”
“I’d advise you to hold off with the questions for now,” Shido interrupted again, “When someone with this much power asks you for a favour, it’s best that you simply listen.”
The boy narrowed his eyes, “Just don't know what I’m getting into, is all. So far, it looks like you’re asking me to sign my life away for, what? Research?”
Shido passed him a business card, “This is something only you can do. I could make you famous, rich, powerful. Certainly something better than what you are right now.”
The boy stared at the floor before Shido added, “I’ve already discussed this with your parents. They believe it would be a wonderful opportunity for you. Perhaps they’re even a little proud.”
His eyes widened as he looked up, “You talked to my parents? And they… they agreed with you?”
“Why wouldn’t they? I’m a good man, and assisting me would only improve their public image.”
The boy stretched his wrist band, letting it snap back with a thwack, “Of course, why wouldn’t it?” he pursed his lips, “Fine, whatever. I’ll think about it.”
Shido grinned and stood up, “That’s all I wanted to hear.” He answered a call on his phone and stopped at the door, “Trust me, I have an eye for this sort of thing.”
He walked out, leaving Akira Kurusu alone with his thoughts and a business card.