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Summary
As soon as his surroundings faded back in, Akira could tell based on atmosphere alone that something was different. The jars of sugar were in a different place on the counter, and the hands on the clock in front of him read a different time, and Akechi Goro was standing right next to him, just as Akira remembered. His messy brown hair with its defiant little cowlicks in the front, his cheeks spotted red from the chilly air outside, his mouth downturned in the perpetual scowl that had found its way onto his face as soon as January hit. His crimson eyes dead-set in determination as he stared Akira down.
“Then, since I have your answer, I’ll be on my way.”
Akira and Akechi get a second chance.