Chapter Text
Akira was 6 when he first met Akechi.
It wasn’t really a big deal, just falling over a branch during his PE class.
Yet as he pulled himself up, no one came over to help him. His classmates continued to chase each other with screams and giggles, and his teacher was sitting to the side, conversing with another teacher in whispers, not even sparing a glance when one of his students became injured.
It was at that moment Akira truly felt the feeling of loneliness.
It was like a chasm of darkness, waiting, waiting, to swallow him up. He could feel his heart falling deeper and deeper, as his lower lip trembled and tears became to form as the pain started to catch up with his brain-
“You would truly let something as insignificant as this get to you!?” A voice demanded. Akira flinches, looking over to the speaker with large, watery eyes.
The man glowered from where he was standing, arms crossed across his chest. There was something in his eyes, other than the sheer condescension and anger as they locked into Akira’s, his upper lip curling in distaste.
Despite the fact it was the middle of summer, he was wearing a tan trench coat, a red scarf tied around his neck striking against the warm tones of his outfit.
As a finger tapped against his arm impatiently, Akira noted that he only had one glove on his left hand.
Seeing he wasn’t going to get a response from Akira, the man scowled, stuffing his hands into his pockets before striding over, directing the full effect of his stare right at Akira.
“Get up. Stop being so dramatic, it’s just a branch, not the end of the fucking world.” He snarled, before stretching out his right hand, dragging Akira back onto his feet.
Akira faintly noticed that his fingers were really cold.
“Sorry.” He whispered under his breath, averting his eyes to the ground as tears blurred his vision. He shouldn’t cry. Dad said that only crybabies liked to cry, and he was not a crybaby!
“Fuck, shit, wait no don’t cry-” He heard the cursing of the man as he frantically kneeled down, hands held up frozen as he stared at him awkwardly. Akira tried to stifle his sniff, but only more tears welled up as he buried his face into his palms.
After a while of awkward reassurance and a lot of crying, his cries turned into sobs, and finally, only his shoulders heaved as he sniffed loudly.
(No one cared, they were all caught up in their own worlds.)
“Who-who are you?” He finally stammered out, his mouth a little dry from the crying he had done earlier. Tugging against his fringe, Akira peered up to the man, who had somehow appeared in the middle of a school without anyone noticing.
(It felt nice to be noticed, even if the other was a large jerk.)
The man hesitated, stuffing his hand back into the pockets of his coat as he blew stray hair away from his face. His brown hair was long, really long, and Akira was slightly curious about whether it was as fluffy as it looked.
“You can call me Akechi.”
“Hello Akechi-san!” Akira beamed, his earlier pain forgotten as he stared up wide eyed at the adult. Akechi looked a little baffled at the change in attitude. “Are you a teacher? I’ve never seen you before!”
“I- yes, fine. Sure, I’m a teacher. Were you not injured, Kurusu?” He demanded, raising an eyebrow. Akira giggled, before turning his elbow over and checking his knees for any injuries.
“Nope! No scratches!” He beamed, smiling up widely as he squinted his eyes. His parents had always said that his eyes were the only parts of his face that seemed scary when he smiled, so hopefully Akechi-san wouldn’t be too creeped out if he closed them!
“Don’t be so careless next time.” Akechi scowled, crossing his arms around his chest one more time as he frowned down at Akira. “You-“
“Kurusu-kun!” Akira turned at the sound of his name, glancing at where a girl was waving at him, a wide smile on her face. “Wanna join us? We’re playing catch!”
Akira’s smile widened as his eyes gleamed. He looked back at Akechi-san, who was staring at the group with a distinct expression, his hand resting against his chin.
Akira blinked, and Akechi’s form flickers for a second.
“Akechi-sensei! Can I go please?” He pleaded, eyes wide as he pouted, blinking furiously. It was rare that his classmates wanted to play with him! He couldn't let this opportunity to make friends go!
Akechi looked down at Akira with a mildly uncomfortable expression, something flashing behind his eyes, coming as soon as it was gone. And the mean demeanor slipped away, a small smile curling his lips. “Of course, Kurusu-kun. Go now, don’t let your friends wait for you.”
His tone was sugar-sweet, much like the artificial sugar his mom had liked to buy for him when he was younger. Akira didn’t think too much of it.
“Nice talking to you Akechi-san! See you around next time!”
As he rushed off to where the group were staring their rounds of rock-paper-scissors, Akechi stared after him, his body flickering, before disappearing into the wind.
——
“You really shouldn’t be doing that.”
Akira frowned, jabbing his pencil into his eraser as he glares at the worksheet in front of him. “Math is stupid.”
Akechi sighed, a dramatic thing and probably too loud for the library they were in, yet no one came over to shush him. He walked over, sliding the paper away from where Akira had taken to brutally murdering his eraser, and sniffed haughtily. “You are 10, Kurusu-kun. This has been taught since last year.”
Akechi always has his coat and scarf every time Akira noticed him, no matter the temperature nor the weather. Through the 4 years of meeting Akechi, Akira would like to think he had grown up, starting to read about psychology and detective novels that Akechi had mentioned offhandedly in his free time.
He still checked in for the new Featherman Episode every Saturday night though.
One could never be too old for Featherman.
Based on how Akechi had grudgingly sat on the floor next to his couch, he had the same thought.
Akechi was weird, Akira decided. At the times where his parents were home, they never commented on his presence instead ignoring him as they walked past where he was standing. No one else at school seemed to look for him either, despite the fact Akechi had called himself a ‘teacher’.
While Akira may be young, he wasn’t an idiot. Either Akechi was some ghost who had taken up to haunting him, or he was just a weirdo stalker who was nice enough to help him through his homework.
Well, all his homework except for Math.
“Stop fidgeting Kurusu-kun. Math is a useless skill that will never help you in the future but you still have to do it well.” Akechi ordered, knocking his knuckle on Akira’s head.
The touch was feather-light, as like a soft breeze blowing through his dark locks.
Akira pouted, staring up at him with wide-eyes that he knew Akechi had a weakness to. “But maths sucks! You said it yourself, it’s useless!” He whined, his fingers fidgeting with the pencil for the nth time. He got a few ‘sshh!’s from the librarian and slumped even more.
Akechi stared at him, before wrinkling his nose, stealing his pencil, ignoring Akira’s whine of protest. His hand reached up to brush his hair behind his ear and he flicked Akira’s forehead with his gloved finger.
“You will want to do well for your exams, Kurusu-kun. Otherwise you will never get a good job. Do you want to work at a convenience store or a flower shop in the future?” He crossed his arms, dropping into the chair next to Akira and staring at him in annoyance.
Akira snatched his pencil from Akechi, glaring at him as he pulled the paper back towards himself. “A flower shop sounds nice! You can’t use that to threaten me!” He protested, wrinkling his nose.
(His rowdy behaviour might get back to his parents, but they were hardly around to scold him much anyways.)
Akechi shook his head, muttering something darkly under his breath. Before Akira could try to listen to it, Akechi turned to him with the sugary smile that was only used when he was beyond pissed, and said, “Well, Kurusu-kun! The homework waits for no one! I might buy you a sweet treat later if you finish it!”
A shiver ran up Akira’s spine and he straightened up, rushing to solve the multiplication equations out of fear for his life.
(Later, Akechi still gave him enough to buy a singular popsicle. Akira snaps it in half and offers Akechi the other with a sweet smile.
He stares at Akira with something in his eyes, before quietly taking it.
They were silent on the way home.)
—
Akira grew up. Akechi remained the same as always.
His hair was longer now, more reminiscent of Akechi’s own hairstyle. He refused to cut it, no matter how his mother had waved the pair of scissors around, or how his father had sneered at him when they had come back from their trip.
Akechi had taken one look at him, before turning his face away. Akira could hear him mutter under his breath, “Sentimental fool.”
He beamed at him in response.
He was nearly graduating preschool now. Even if his grades are generally good (Thanks to Akechi and his nagging), Akira was still lacking in the friend’s department, quietly sitting at the back of the classroom as he stared at his classmates sitting on tables, passing notes and whispering excitedly under their breaths.
The feeling of loneliness was still there, gawking at the bottom of his heart, reminding him of the long way down to the depths that threatened to overtake him as he tethered at the edge.
He asked Akechi about it once. He had bit his lip, the unreadable look back in his eyes as he looked right at Akira. “It will never go away. You just have to force it down, all until you forget about it.”
Akira had looked up at him. “But you’ll always be with me, so I’ll never be alone!”
Akechi stared at Akira with that unreadable look in his eyes, before letting out a self-deprecating laugh. “Of course Kurusu-kun.”
Yet every time his teachers checked in on him, every time the person in front of him turned over to borrow a pen, Akira watched as Akechi flickers, disappearing out of existence, reappearing only when he was alone.
Akechi was a liar.
“The fog is getting really bad recently.” Akechi hummed. Akira scrambled to walk beside him, stumbling over his feet as he tried to match the other’s pace. It was moments like these that he cursed how tall Akechi was, it wasn’t fair at all!
Akira squinted. Akechi was right, it was getting worse every time he walked back from school. A few days ago he could’ve seen the end of the street, but now, as he looked up, even the light of the street lamps were obscured by the thick mist.
He usually wouldn't have chosen to walk back so late, but after Akechi had scoffed at the empty state of his fridge, a wave of petty competitiveness had overcome his rationality. And off Akira went with the cash his mother had stuffed into his hand before their trip to the nearest Junes to stock up his fridge.
Akechi snickered under his breath as he followed him, hand stuffed in his pockets, refusing to help Akira carry any of the plastic bags that he had to lug back.
“We could’ve reached home earlier if you just helped me with the bags Akechi-san.” Akira grumbled, transferring the bags to his other arm when they started to dig into his skin.
Akechi flashed him a bright smile that was as real as people’ s hopes and dreams. “It’s good training, Akira-kun. Stop whining and go along now.”
Akira stuck his toughest out at him, before speeding up his footsteps, dragging the bag of instant noodles along with him.
Akechi was not only a liar, but also a pain in the ass.
“You suck.” Akira informed Akechi politely as the other easily caught up to his pace with large steps. Why was he so tall! It’s not fair, Akira also wants to be as tall as him! “Could you be useful and give me directions if you’re not going to help me carry this please, Akechi-san?”
Akechi wrinkled his nose, before the bright smile that screamed ‘I’m just humouring you so you can shut up’ overtook his lips. “Of course, Kurusu-kun.” He didn’t even bother to pretend to look around and just pointed at the corner they just passed.
Akira peered at the sign, the moonlight barely visible through the fog at night.
“I’m pretty sure that it says Kuragima.”
“Ah ah ah,” Akechi wriggled his finger like a certain pink coat prosecutor. “Someone once told me: To reach the place where one comes to live, thou must first pass the storehouse of god.”
Akira stared at him. “That doesn’t even make sense.”
“That’s what I said.” Akechi scoffed, flicking his hair to the side. “He always thought of himself as quite the joker.”
...
You know what, sure. Akechi was a liar, a pain in the ass and a weirdo.
After a few minutes of walking in a random direction, the house was still not in sight, and the fog had gotten heavier. Akira lifted his hand before him, squinting as he barely managed to make out the blurry shape of his fingers.
“I think we’re lost.”
Akechi grumbled under his breath as they passed by a convenience store that was definitely not on the usual route back home.
“Akechi-san, maybe we should look for someone for directions?” Akira poked Akechi’s leg, forcing him to look down at him. “Wandering around so late at night isn’t really good, you know, especially after the murder of the TV woman last time.”
Despite how he tried to look unbothered, a trace of unease still slipped into his words. His arms were getting sore from the bags he was carrying, and there was a suspicious lack of wind to dry his sweat-drenched shirt.
Finally, Akechi looks at Akira, annoyance clear in his eyes. Akira dropped his bags onto the sidewalk, stretching his arms to relieve the soreness of his muscles. He blinked at Akechi, stifling a yawn as the lateness of the hour caught up to him.
“Fine. Let’s go.” Akechi grumbled under his breath, picking up the plastic bag Akira had left on the floor, and stuffed his other hand into his pocket. Akira perked up, a goofy smile spreading across his lips.
“Akechi-san is taking my bags! Out of his own will! The sun must have stopped shining…what’s next, a whole new world based on desires?” He snorted, catching up to Akechi as they walked back to the convenience store that had passed.
Akechi blinked, before staring at him.
Akira stared back at him.
“No way.”
“...” Akechi stopped in his footsteps, raising a hand to his chin as he pondered, before a smirk grew across his lips. “Yes actually. When you’re 16 turning 17…you get into this insane world with talking cats and crazy people who get influenced by desires.”
Akira gaped at him. “You’re fucking with me. Talking cats is insane.”
He had been swearing a lot recently. He blames Akechi’s terrible personality.
“Take it or leave it.”
Akechi resumed walking, making a turn at a corner. Akira squinted at the nameplate, but the darkness of the night makes it hard to see the characters.
“Akechi-san! You can't just say that and leave-” Akira complained, before a drop of liquid landed on his cheek. He blinked, fingers reaching up and brushing against his cheek.
Was it raining? He wondered, pulling his his fingers away from his face and looking down at the smear of-
Red.
Akira blinked. And looked up.
Through the thick fog, the light from the lamppost barely managed to pierce through, its lights flickering on and off.
Akira had thought the lamp was just defective before, but now, he saw there was a bare silhouette of a pair of women's shoes in the air, connected to long legs as the figure swung back and forth, the movement causing a dark shadow on the ground.
“-rusu-”
He couldn't take his eyes off it, watching as another drop of red liquid- blood- dripped down from her shoes, landing on the ground a few feet away as she swayed.
“-su- Akira-”
His hands were trembling, he needed to do something, he had to do something why were his hands shaking so much-
“Akira!”
Akira blinked, staring straight into the sharp maroon eyes of Akechi. At some point, his hand had reached up to tug on his hair, his dark curls messed up more than usual. Akechi’s hands were on his shoulders, the chill sending shivers up his spine as he gripped him tightly.
“A- Akechi-san.” The words felt heavy, his tongue stiff in his mouth, making him stammer over the syllables.
“Save it Kurusu. Call the police.” Akechi cuts in, his voice devoid of emotions. He stands up, brushing his pants off of any loose gravel. His tone was all business, unlike the snarkiness that was usually used with Akira, nor the fake sweetness when he had to deal with something unsavory.
Akira tugged on his hair again, feeling the dull ache of of his scalp as his eyes wandered up again to the body-
“Kurusu! You will do as I said and call the police!” Akechi orders, lips curled into a snarl as he glared down at Akira, knuckles white as the leather from his glove creaked.
It was the first time Akira has ever felt afraid of Akechi.
“Ye-yes, The police- right-” he fumbled for his phone, digging through his pockets. Shakily swiping to the call app, he punches in the numbers for the police station, holding up to his ear, eyes levelled onto the ground.
“H-hello? I would like to report a b-body.”
The whole time, Akechi stood by his side, staring up with a calculating expression. Even if he didn’t try to assure him everything was fine, he stood steadily by his side, unwavering even when the distinct sound of sirens rang from the distance.
It was a comfort by itself.
——
Three years passed. Akira turns 14.
The events of that night became a constant visitor of his nightmares, yet all mentions of the Midnight Channel vanished. The cases were marked as closed. Everyone else moved on.
Except him.
Inaba became a prison of its own. His parents, now that he’s older, are barely at home. He saw them once or twice a year, no longer than a day in their own house. He got by with the money they leave him, barely enough to scrape through the months with packages of noodles.
He was starting to wonder if they even cared.
Friends was still a difficult topic. The others in middle school create friend groups, huddling around each other and gossiping, rumours travelling from one mouth to the other, everyone too narrow sighted to see beyond what they believed.
Then there was Akechi.
Akechi, who had been by his side since young. Akechi, who always appeared when he was alone. Akechi, who had provided a sense of familiarity despite how little Akira knew of him, how he didn’t like to talk about his life, no personal details ever escaping his mouth.
Akira doesn’t push. He knows too much about respecting others' privacy.
He cut his hair in the summer when the weather became too hot for him, deciding to happily turn on all the air conditioners in the house just to spite his parents. The long hair kept brushing his nape, making it itch all the time.
Akechi snorted at him, saying “Not everyone can pull off this style, Kurusu-kun. Your messy bedhead makes you look more like yourself.”
Akira had very maturely flipped him off.
“Kurusu-kun.”
Akira groans, digging his face deeper into the crook of his elbow. The stupid sunlight was shining through the windows and unfortunately, the whole world wasn’t burning. All his plans about setting all math homework on fire were all thwarted.
“Kurusu. Stop being lazy.” Akechi’s voice drawled, and a sharp sound of a knuckle rapping on the desk sounded next to his ear.
“Akechi-san. Please. You can’t torture me like this.” Akira cried out, pouting as he lifted his head, the light reflecting the crocodile tears that had gathered in his eyes. Why Maths? It’s everywhere! No one can escape it!
“Hahaha.” Akechi deadpanned. “If I can shoot you through the forehead, torturing you with mathematical questions isn’t that difficult.”
Akira hated it when Akechi made a joke he couldn't understand.
He groans in response, ignoring the blossom of pain from his forehead accompanied by the slam as it falls down.
After a few more moments of silence, Akira shot up, gathering enough courage to face Akechi’s terrifying unimpressed glare. “I'm not doing this. Let's go to Okina.”
In a second, he grabbed his bag lying at the side of the door, before sticking out his tongue at a silently fuming Akechi still standing next to his stacks of worksheets at the dining table. “Keep up Akechi-san.”
Akechi pinched his nose bridge, mouth pursed as he closed his eyes. “You don’t even have money.” He managed through gritted teeth. Akira thought he could hear the creak of leather from how white his knuckles were.
“Oh right.” Akira patted his pockets, only to find…nothing. He then remembered the really expensive blue scarf Akechi had insisted he buy last week hanging in his closet. “This is all your fault.”
“…I beg your fucking pardon?”
——
Yu Narukami wasn’t planning to go to Okina City today.
After the events with the Midnight Channel, life had become rather steady, with outings with friends and studies taking priority. He had managed to find a family for himself with his friends and uncle and cousin, and honestly, he could never trade anything else in life for them.
Then Nanako had asked him for a Jack Frost plushie.
The Jack Frost plushie was something he had gotten for her when she was in the hospital. It was unfortunately left…somewhere, after the…
Anyways.
Nanako had asked for a Jack Frost plushie, and while it was perfectly reasonable to just get it from the Junes at Inaba, Yu had a few extra coins at hand, and decided to go to Okina for its Crane Machine for the Pyro Jack.
But the moment he had arrived at the usual place, he had caught sight of messy black hair, huddled over the control as the boy carefully controlled the claw at one of the Jack Frost plush near the deposit.
Yu blinked, before deciding to wait for the kid to finish his coins. He didn’t seem to have much luck with it, muttering under his breath as the claw slipped off the blue ear returning to its original position empty-handed.
The kid, probably 14 or something, cursed, patting his pockets and digging out a few more extra coins and stuffing it into the machine, shoulders tensing as he once more directed the claw with the joystick over the plush.
And he pressed the button.
“FUCK.”
Yu wanted to laugh, but something in his heart softened at the sight.
Maybe he was projecting a little, but for a kid to be alone playing an arcade game without his parents…it seemed a little lonely.
He checked his pockets for his coins, ensuring they were kept safely, before making up his mind.
Just as he was about to step forward, however, the boy looked up into thin air, before opening his mouth and seemingly arguing with…nothing.
Then he stepped to the side and Yu witnessed the most supernatural thing he had ever seen.
The joystick moved itself and the crane responded.
See, with the existence of the TV world, shadows and Personas, Yu thinks he has seen a ton of the cognitive world, and ghosts should be part of it…even if he had never seen one before.
If the Reaper existed, who said ghosts couldn't?
But he was sure that the Investigation Team had gotten rid of the TV world three years ago, the fog should’ve vanished at the same time too.
Why in the world was there a ghost haunting a 14 year old?? And did said 14 year old just took the plush that the ghost handed to him-
Yu pinched his nose bridge. He should be more concerned about it, but the kid did seem happy.
At least he got his money's worth.
He watched as something ruffled the kid’s fluffy black hair, the movements too unnatural for the autumn wind. He watched as the kid smiled at nothing, clutching onto the Jack Frost as if it was something to be treasured. He watches as a hand held onto thin air, holding onto something solid as the kid and the ghost walked off, turning in the corner and disappearing from his sight.
That, Yu mused. Was not what I expected when I went out for a game.
——
The thing with Akechi, was that despite how mean and snarky he presented himself, he has a strong sense of justice.
It was obvious when his classmates spread rumours about Akira, and Akechi, in his unseen glory, cursed out the penetrator’s entire bloodline, decided that it wasn’t enough and kicked his chair in the middle of a lecture.
It was funny to see him lose his balance, eyes wide as he glanced around, before being subjected to Ms Nuiwari’s lectures in her embroidered jacket and tote bags with a shit ton of keychains.
Akira had given him a high five when she turned away.
It was even more obvious when another student had cornered Akira during the teacher’s conference, and neither of Akira’s parents showed up.
She had laughed in his face, her friends supporting next to her, their taunting words echoing throughout the empty hallway as they pointed jeering fingers at him.
Honestly, Akira thought they had never grown out of their chunnibyou phrase with how edgy they were acting.
But nonetheless, the words had hurt. Even if he had pretended that the words thrown at him didn’t cut into his heart, jabbing into the weak spots that had only been pulled apart by his family’s distance, it still sucked.
Then a splash of water had sprayed over all of them.
Akira watched as Akechi held onto a metal bucket in his left hand, the other on his hip as he snarled at the group of 13 year olds, the frigid cold of his presence obvious even if they couldn’t see him.
So yes, even though Akechi had tried to present himself as this ‘mean, annoying’ presence, he held firmly onto his views on justice, acting when someone tried to act unfairly.
So when Akira turned 16, and he spotted a woman being forced into a bald man’s car, he found it odd when Akechi said nothing, staring at the scene with one of his unreadable expression.
Akechi spotted him scrutinising, of course. The guy’s got senses sharper than one of his mother’s knives.
He directed the full effect of the Akechi snarl onto Akira, displeasure written all over his face. “What? Stop being fucking pathetic and help her. I know you want to.”
A smile tugged at Akira’s lips as he turned away from Akechi, before vanishing as the guy grabbed the woman by her collar, his bald head reflecting the dim streetlights. Wow, that's a really shiny head.
“Hey! Stop! Let go of that woman!”
The man turned around, a disgusting sneer on his lips as he squinted at Akira. The smell of alcohol was strong, thick even with the distance between him and Akira. He stumbled a little, wrinkling his nose as he batted off the woman’s attempts to get off of her.
“What? Playing hero, little kid? Run along now, this has nothing for you to be concerned with- Fuck!” The guy yelled, flinching as the woman pinched him with her sharp nails. She barely had time to breath, before the guy’s hands were around her neck, pinning her to the roof of his car. “Fucking bitch. Whores like you should stay down as I steer this country around!”
Akechi growled behind him, the soft sound of creaking leather exposing his tightly he was clutching his fists. “Fucking dick.”
The woman scratched his arm, choking out between breaths, “He’ll call the police! You won’t get away with- Ack!” She cut off, her lips turning blue.
The guy didn’t seem to care about the red lines that ran down his arms, instead laughing mockingly. “The police? They’re all my bitches! Who do you think is going to win in a court case? Me? Or you!”
Akira gritted his teeth. He could feel his nails digging into his palms as he clenched his fists, staring up at the man who didn’t care about the fact he was going to kill someone-
“Step up for yourself Kurusu! Stop being an idiot!” Akechi’s voice ordered behind him. It was like back when he was 6, and he was back at the playground, all alone, drowning, until Akechi appeared.
This time, he knew how to take responsibility into his own hands.
Akira stepped forth, sliding himself between the man and the woman. “Get off of her!”
The man cried out, flinching back as he tripped over the sidewalk, falling onto the ground in a heap of gangly limbs. Akira faintly heard the woman gasping for breath, along with the faint sounds of sirens in the distance, as he stared at the man, before looking at his hands. What the-
“You damn brat! I’ll sue!” The man hollered, his orange-tinted glasses catching the light as he lifted his head up, a hand clutching onto his face. “You pushed me!
Akira gaped at him. “What? You just fell-”
The man wasn’t listening, instead addressing the woman behind him. “You! I’ll pay you! You saw it right! The brat just pushed me out of nowhere! You better keep your fucking mouth shut if you want to keep your job!”
Akira glanced at her. She was shivering, her mouth agape as her eyes widened. “Miss,-” He tried
“I- I’m sorry…”
Akira could barely hear her mutters, the sirens loud against his ears as red and blue fill his vision. He vaguely remembers getting taken away in handcuffs, protesting as he gets pushed into a police car.
He remembers Akechi, looking at him with strange resignation as he fades away when the car moves forth.
He’ll come back. He always does.
——
Going to Tokyo felt like a strangely sluggish dream. Akira’s limbs weren’t cooperating, each movement feeling like he was in tar, pushing against the thick liquid.
Even lifting his arms felt difficult.
His parents had cut their trip to France short when they received the call from the police. Akira was held in the holding room when his mom had come in, slamming the door open and a frown so like his own gracing her lips. His father was right behind her, his face neutral in a way that said ‘we’ll talk about this later.”
But Akira’s eyes found the third figure behind them, and his eyes met cold burgundy’s.
Akechi didn’t even look surprised. He strolled into the room with his signature scowl, hands in his pockets as he took in the shabby interview room, holding Akira’s glance when he met his eyes, pursing his lips.
His mother had been saying something (scolding him? Or talking to the officer?), but Akira wasn’t listening, instead holding his chin up and staring defiantly back at Akechi.
His scowl deepened before he looked away, crossing his arms tightly across his chest.
The court ruling had ended up with probation, and Akira was to move to Tokyo for a year, living under a man named ‘Sojiro Sakura’ who was supposed to be a ‘Family friend.’
Akira has never heard of him in his life.
But the movements of packing his stuff into boxes, opening his closet to stuff them into a lonely corner along with the bunch of necessities, Akira snapped out of his trance, eyes flickering down to his hands and back at the imposing box in the centre of his barren room, filled with items that he might never need again.
Was…destroying his future for a woman he had never met a good choice?
“Kurusu.”
Oh, and there was Akechi. Still as silent as ever, the curt voice forced Akira to look back at him. He was standing in the hallway, a displeased frown on his face. “Stop thinking and get back to work.”
Akira blinked at him, before forcing up a smile that vanished as Akechi’s frown deepened. It was rather annoying, the fact he was unable to lie to Akechi and pretend everything was fine. “Aren’t you going to help out? It’s a rather large box, isn’t it?”
Akechi snorted, a mean sneer spreading across his face as he looked at the box with disdain. “Don’t give me that bullshit, there is barely anything you need here anyways.”
And wasn’t he right?
Akira barely had anything in the box, the empty corners taunting him as he stared at it. He didn’t want to pack everything, to keep some of his items in his bleak house, to show that there was still someone who lived inside.
He wanted the house to still be his home, despite whatever temporary leave he was getting into.
Akira’s eyes glanced up at Akechi, to the Risette poster pasted on the side of his wall, and to the untidy bed at the corner of the room. He reached up to twitch a curl of his hair, before turning back to Akechi with a grin that didn’t seem as fake as before. “You’re right, let’s get to this.”
The next morning, he left for Inaba’s train station, stopping by a convenience store to purchase a pair of cheap glasses, much to Akechi’s chagrin.
His parents had already left the house for their trip without a goodbye, and Akira lugged his box next to him, Akechi giving him moral support (“Work those noodle arms! What are you, a twink?”) beside him as he pushed it onto a cab that he had paid with the remaining money he had left.
And off he was, to Tokyo.