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“I think, all things considered — tonight went really well!” Ryuji flung his arm around Akira’s shoulder, pulling his face against his own with a grin.
His cheeks were bright red, contrasting with the platinum blonde hair that was already growing out despite Akira trimming it just two weeks prior. Ryuji had come rushing into Leblanc two weeks before explaining that a girl had invited him on a date, which she offered to be a double date if the blonde had a friend that was eager. Ryuji had enthusiastically agreed, rushing down to Leblanc, causing the bell to ring much louder than it should have. Akira was wiping down the benches after the cafe had gone quiet after lunch.
“Akira! I really need a favour! Can you cut my hair for me? this really good lookin’ girl just offered a date!” Ryuji exclaimed, his hands grasping the edge of the bar as he eagerly stared into Akira’s eyes.
“Wh- huh? You want me to trim your hair? I’d consider Ann or maybe even Haru your best bet.” Akira shrugged, placing the final empty mug on the hook latched to the back of the bar. Ryuji carelessly took a seat on the stool opposite Akira.
“Yeah. But last time I got those two to do it for me I was stuck there for hours as they explained how I needed to stop bleaching my hair before it starts falling out…” Ryuji slumped in his seat, his hands dragging across his cheeks.
Akira chuckled. “They still did the favour, did they not?”
“W-Well yeah! But it was torture! I know my hair is dead but that’s why I cut it! Ann mentioned that you would do your own hair back in highschool, so I was hoping…” Ryuji was letting his puppy dog eyes show, a sight the older boy couldn’t possibly deny.
“…Alright I’ll do it. Don’t have high expectations, I’ve only ever worked on curly or…” Akira trailed off, setting the glass he’d grabbed from a cabinet on the bar gently.
“What?” Ryuji didn’t give Akira the time to think, thankfully.
“Nothing, nothing. Can you get my scissors from upstairs? They should be in a small black toiletries bag… I’ll get you some lemonade too.” The raven hair grinned, not letting his emotions get the best of him, especially not around his best friend. It’s been five years.
Ryuji leaped up from his seat, his usual wide toothy grin beaming from the short distance. “Thank you so much for this Akira! I owe ya!” Before the other could reply, Ryuji had already rushed up the stairs.
Akira sighed, pushing his hands into the hard wood. It’s been five years since he left.
He shook the thought away, quickly preparing an ice cold glass of lemonade for Ryuji.
—
“Thank you so much for this dude! I can’t imagine what I do if it wasn’t for you!” Ryuji spoke, still unable to keep himself still like Akira had ordered. He’d quickly gulped down almost the entire glass of lemonade, leaving only a few drops that were mostly melted ice.
“Don’t mention it.” Akira spoke, lifting the hair it the back of Ryujis neck before clipping it against his scalp, slowly lining up the quality metal scissors before snipping.
“Well- hey, here’s an idea! Reika, the girl who I’m going out with has a friend who’s looking to join us as a double date! What do ya say?” Ryuji fiddled with his glass as he explained the situation, quieting down as he got further along.
Akira noticeably tensed while brushing the excess hairs off Ryujis shoulders, letting it drop to the hardwood floors.
“A double date? I’m not too sure man, I think I’ll have to pass…” The sound of scissors lightly snipping was the only thing covering the awkward silence. Every breath was blaring, each second that passed made the conversation feel heavier and heavier in Akira’s heart.
“…Dude, you haven’t gone out with anyone in five years. You’ve been dwelling on him for half a decade, you haven’t been the same since.” Ryuji muttered, not wanting his words to make a big situation.
“I intend to keep it that way.” Akira spoke, stern and straightforward as ever. He’d consulted with Ryuji and Ann just before he started attending therapy more regularly, so the two knew about his situation. Ryuji sighed, dropping his shoulders.
“‘Kira… You can’t live the rest of your life like this.” Ryuji turned his head, attempting to get a look at the other but was quickly shut down as Akira turned his head back to where it was before continuing with the scissors. “Don’t you think it’s time to at least give someone else a chance?”
Akira’s hands were feeling clammy against the warm metal, his gut twisting. He didn’t want this conversation to go on any longer than it already had.
“I seem to be doing pretty fine with it so far.” Akira wasn’t bothered trying to sound like he was considering it, he just needed this conversation to be over before he couldn’t hold back tears any longer. Ryuji continued fiddling with the glass, drawing shapes in the condensation.
“You’re not doing ‘pretty fine’ though! I just don’t see things getting better if you don’t give someone else a shot! How about — you come with me, we have a few drinks, have a good time, and if you don’t enjoy it I won’t ever push you to come out with me again!” Ryuji explained, obviously trying to sound as convincing as he could.
Akira thought on it for a second. Ryuji was right, he couldn’t dwell on this forever. But was he really ready to move on with his life? It had been five entire years of watching that glass pane door open and close hundreds of times but it was never the man he hoped it would be. It was exhausting waiting for someone he’d lost, not only once but twice. Could he really keep this up?
“…Alright. I’ll come.” Akira sighed, a pang of hurt in his heart as he agreed.
Ryuji lifted his head in surprise, his eyes beaming with shock and excitement. “For real?! Ohhhh man! This is gonna be great!” Ryuji leapt out of the chair with excitement, ignoring Akira’s protest before he threw his arms around his torso, awkwardly hugging over the seat.
“Ack-! Ryuji!! There’s still hair on you-!” Akira attempted to squirm away with the scissors still in his hand, desperately trying not to cut the other as he continued rocking the two back and forth.
“Okay! Lemme tell you about him!”
—
“I think, all things considered — tonight went really well!” Ryuji flung his arm around Akira’s shoulder, pulling his face against his own with a grin. The alcohol was affecting his movements, making everything heavier.
“…Yeah. It went well.” Akira mumbled, his eyelids heavy as his stomach turned with what he could only describe as unbearably uncomfortable guilt. He made a promise.
“Hell yeah it did! I noticed you two talking at the end there… did something happen?” The words tumbling from Ryujis mouth were slurred and lazy, he was tripping over his own two feet as they approached the front of Leblanc. Ryuji had fallen behind Akira multiple times due to losing the rock he was kicking all the way down the dark path that only had three streetlights illuminating the way.
“I- uhm.” His heart was beating fast, too fast. “He gave me his number.”
Ryujis eyebrows lifted, Akira couldn’t tell whether he was shocked or amazed before he yet again was pulled into a hug.
“Look at you go! See? I told you it wasn’t gonna be bad!” The blonde cheered, louder than he should’ve at this time of night, but it’s the thought that counts.
The words stirred in Akira’s stomach as he clutched his phone which just an hour prior, he’d put some random man’s phone number into. He felt sick, like his body was refusing to move on along with his mind, if his mind had moved on at all. He knew moving on wouldn’t be easy, especially not after five whole years, but he didn’t expect it to hurt this bad. Akira’s entire body felt numb, like he just lost everything. It wasn’t until the two were standing at the front of Leblanc, shoulder to shoulder when Akira realised he hadn’t heard a thing Ryuji said.
“I’m gonna head off now before the last train! Tonight’s been fun, I’m sure Eiji and Reika would love to go out again!” Ryuji chuckled, pulling Akira into one final hug, his hands pressed firmly against the others back. Akira didn’t reciprocate, he couldn’t bring himself to hug Ryuji back, he felt weak and sick, whether it was the guilt or alcohol — he didn’t know. The blonde pulled away from the squeeze momentarily, showing Akira a toothy grin before setting off on his walk to the train station.
“…Message me when you’re home.”
Akira muttered, he wasn’t sure Ryuji heard until he noticed that same boys hand waving at him.
The raven haired boy watched his best friend trot down the street and into the darkness, until he couldn’t even see his outline. Akira sighed. Futaba and Sojiro already went home, Ryuji was probably gonna crash the moment he step foot into his apartment, Makoto and Haru were out of the country together, Ann had a photoshoot that was on the other side of Tokyo, Yusuke hasn’t answered his phone in days, and Akira…
Was still at Leblanc.
All of his friends had moved on from being phantom thieves, they all had worked on themselves and become the people they always dreamed about. Even the people associated — Shiho was now happy alongside Ann, Advocating for better education staff, Sae and Makoto had a perfect sister relationship, even Mishima had built a career in design software after the phan-site took off. Everyone had got their happy ending.
Everyone but Akira.
Not long after everything hit rock bottom, Akira refused to leave Leblanc. He couldn’t bare the thought of such a cruel world. A world that felt he had no place in. When his probation was lifted, from the case being proved false, Akira didn’t bother going back to his home town. His parents had built a reputation back home, a reputation that wasn’t so easily shattered. He told Sojiro about the situation to which Sojiro offered to let him stay at Leblanc until he found somewhere to stay.
Except he never found somewhere to stay. He could never keep a job longer than six months.
It was embarrassing. Coming home for the second time within a year with a note explaining how they had to ‘let him go’. Akira had given up trying to get a decent job, he’d been working at Leblanc full time, basically taking over from Sojiro who was slowly getting too old to handle the workload. Akira didn’t mind, it gave him something to distract his mind for a couple hours.
That was until the cafe would close. Akira would spend hours, awake with no end, waiting for him to walk through that door and tell him that he was still alive.
Its been five years, he never came.
Each day that passed, Akira would tell himself “tomorrow’s the day. I’m sure of it.” one day became two days, two days became 4 days, and before he knew it, he was going almost whole weeks with no sleep. Akira was convinced that the love of his life, the man he owed everything, was coming back to save him. Eventually, Futaba noticed him in the early hours of the morning, pacing around outside with no end in sight. She kept note of his behaviours, paying attention to the little things that would catch his attention. Such as; the Leblanc door, a certain coffee order, any men holding briefcases, even people lighting cigarettes in the alley way. Futaba bundled up all the concerning info, before forwarding it to Ann and Makoto. She’d considered telling the rest of the group, but knew those two girls would probably have the best way of talking to him.
They didn’t.
They insisted on meditating, or warm teas before a certain time, anything to build some sort of schedule for Akira to follow, but nothing worked. The girls would tell Akira when to be in bed by, and when to get up in the morning, what time to go brush his teeth and what time to get ready of a morning, hoping that with some routine factors, he’d maybe settle into more comfortable habits.
There was no success, which is how he ended up visiting Takemi. Makoto has informed her on his situation, explaining that it was likely caused from severe depression and post traumatic stress disorder. Takemi ran multiple tests on Akira’s body, jotting down notes into his file that she’d had since he was sixteen. She ended up prescribing him some heavy duty sleep medication after the first few pills did nothing. She trusted him not to abuse the fact she was freely supplying them out of pity.
Which of course she shouldn’t have trusted.
Here Akira was, for the hundredth night in a row, slumped in his bed, staring at the Leblanc ceiling feeling emptier than he had in a long time. At times like these, Akira would often hold his glove close to his chest, feeling the expensive leather beneath his fingertip. He’d often examine the difference in the glove to his own hand. The fingers were longer, clearly some room for longer nails, a bit wider and the palm but loose around the wrist. A couple of stray threads on the left seam of the pointer finger.
Akira had always wondered what happened there. Maybe during an interview he’d been nervous and damaged the seam, maybe it was just worn out. He made sure that he never touched it. He couldn’t risk damaging it further.
Akira held the glove close, intertwining the empty sockets with his fingers. His full container of pills in the other hand, barely dangling off the side of his bed. He’d been in this situation before, but not quite to this extent.
He’d never been out with another man just a couple of hours earlier. How would he feel? Akira had received that glove as a promise, a sign of their relationship and commitment to one another. He felt like his heart was draining inside of him, a sickly feeling swirling around his chest as guilt threatened to overcome him. Akira quickly popped open the safety lock on the pill bottle, shaking a few more than usual into his hand before forcing them down his throat with one rapid motion. He could feel all the pills hitting the back of his dry throat, it made him gag. It made his eyes water with disgusting tears.
“Fuck…!”
It hurt. He could feel each pill slowly move its way down his throat before it was just the sour taste in his mouth. Akira desperately tried to swallow his own saliva as something to wash down the pill residue, but his mouth was too dry.
What would he think right now?Would he want Akira to be doing this to himself? Or would he think it’s pathetic and tell Akira to stop whining?
Akira panicked as he set his head down against the pillow, gently shutting his eyes as the dizzy sensation began seeping through him. Could he seriously not remember anything about him? Akira could feel the bile creeping up his throat, dragging the alcohol and pills with it, it took everything in him to keep it down. His hands were starting to shake.
He had to remember. He always enjoyed visiting Leblanc, he’d visit after a long day at the office, usually of a Thursday. He also enjoyed visiting the Jazz Jin, where he would order an overly sweet drink and deny having a sweet tooth when anyone asked. He didn’t enjoy seeing fans on his way home after spending the night at Leblanc. He had a social studies teacher that was always getting on his nerves. He hated when his hair got too close to his neck.
It wasn’t enough. Was Akira really forgetting everything about him? This couldn’t be happening.
Akira hands were getting weaker, his vision going black around the corners. He barely had enough strength left to pop a few more pills into his mouth and swallow. He was really hoping this was the last time he had to do something like this…
He again, felt each pill hit the back of his throat with a sharp pain, as if someone had fed him razor blades. The pill bottle slipped from his weak fingers, hitting the floor with a thud that sent shivers down Akira’s spine. The wind blowing against his face felt like the only sensory input he could feel, he let his eyes fall shut.
…
“Seriously Akira? Overdosing? When I considered us equal rivals I sure as hell didn’t mean like this.”
“Wh…” Akira couldn’t speak, his head already felt dead and his mouth was struggling to move. His lungs were squeezing hard in his chest with each breath he tried to get in.
“What? Don’t act stupid now. Look at yourself. I’d say you have about… ten minutes until your body gives up.” That dark red scarf was revealing the pale neck beneath it, dark burn marks towards the left side as the man walked towards Akira’s bed.
”…Akechi?”
”You say my name so perfectly. So perfect when you’re practically on your death bed. Fucking look at yourself Akira!” Akechi grasped onto Akira’s shoulders, shaking his heavy body back and forth, swearing he could hear the boys heart rattle withing him.
“Akechi… Akechi you’re here. H-How are you-“ Akira was struggling to speak, he really wasn’t kidding.
“Seriously? We worked alongside each other through an entire cognitive reality and seeing me now is shocking?” Akechi scoffed, taking a seat next to Akira’s legs. His hair was longer, just below his shoulders. He had dark burn scars down the left side of his neck and cheek, even slightly around his eye. Akira’s eyes worked their way down the other’s body, his coat had a rip in the shoulder, not a big rip, but large enough that someone would notice. Akira continued drawing his way down Akechi’s features, admiring them, until he noticed:
He was only wearing one glove.
The black leather coating Akechis hand was identical to the one resting on Akira’s pillow, the one he’d held every night for five years. The brunette was quick to notice the gears turning in Akira’s mind.
“Ah. It seems we share one thing from the cognitive to the real world.” Akechi admired the glove on his own hand, eyes barely acknowledging the raven haired boy.
“So- you’re a part of the cognitive world? Does that mean the metaverse is back?“ Akira forced himself to speak, he fought every instinct telling him to lay down and let the world swallow him whole.
Akechi chuckled, clasping his hands together neatly in his lap. “Did the metaverse ever really close?”
…
”…What?”
Akira finally got a chance to look at Akechi’s eyes, they were dull, lifeless even. They look exactly like the ones that Akira had lost five years ago.
“So what if the line between the metaverse and reality is blurring? What is there to do? You’re no longer a phantom thief.” Akechi’s words stung, they felt like spears empaling Akira’s heart with no remorse. His vision was getting foggier each minute that passed, his eyelids feeling heavier and heavier.
“If you’re here… and the metaverse is back… there has to be something I can do…! I-I took down a god I can do it again! Please Akechi- tell me how to fix this!” Tears began blocking more of Akira’s view, he was only able to make out so much of Akechis figure in such a blurry image. It hurt, everything hurt. His legs felt like they were constantly in quick sand, while his head struggled to stay with his neck.
“Alright. I’ll tell you what to do.”Akechi’s voice was stern, it almost sounded like a recording.
“Yes-! P-Please Akechi! Tell me how do I bring you back…” Akira begged, using what little strength he had to grasped onto Akechi’s collar. He felt oddly cold.
“…No Akira. I’ll tell you what to do, and in return you will call an ambulance, and force yourself to throw up every single pill you’ve forced down your throat. I don’t care how bad it hurts.”
Akira nodded, eager to hear his instructions and get to work as quick as he could.
“But I won’t return.”
…What?
Akira’s hands dropped, hitting the bed with a small thud. Had all this seriously been for nothing? Was this just Akechi taunting him?
“Have you not noticed? The world is crumbling Akira. Society is doomed. Your friends aren’t living their happy perfect lives.”
Akira couldn’t speak, his entire body felt like an empty shell with nothing but a few crumbs left behind by the rats.
“Sakura hasn’t been able to finish her course due to the metaverse pressing impossible standard onto her workload.”
“Takamaki has moved back to America, the modelling industry became more toxic than ever before.”
“Kitagawa is spending his last nights in a car after losing all his income due to societies corrupt views on art.
“Yoshizawa has got so much pressure from her father that she can no longer compete in gymnastics.”
“Niijima is unable to keep up with the current crime rates.”
“Okumuras business went under not long after the phantom thieves disbanded, society refusing to give their allowance to a poor girl without a father.”
…What?
This was a sick dream, Akira thought. His friends were fine. They were all fine and Akira had watched them all from afar as they became the best people they could be.
”Y-Youre lying… Ryuji just told me tonight how everything is going well!” Akira screeched, his throat drying and raspy.
“Akira. Sakamoto had to go back to his father’s after his mother couldn’t make enough money to support them.”
…
This couldn’t be happening, it didn’t make any sense.
Akira had done everything right.
He defeated Maruki, he helped his friends awaken to their true selves, he watched them all succeed in life, completing goals they never thought they could accomplish.
“You have two choices Akira. Either you do what I say, and throw up the pills, call an ambulance and attempt to save society without me.”
Attempt?
Akechi sighed.
“Or you stay here with me forever. Leaving everyone behind, to fight for themselves in a world that will continue corrupting until the line between human and shadow is nowhere to be found.”
Akiras eyes felt heavy, he couldn’t even get the tears to fall, his body refusing to cooperate with his brain. Was this really what was happening? Was Akechi telling the truth? Was this even the real Akechi? Akira didn’t know, he couldn’t do this. If his friends were suffering this much — what was he going to do? He could barely work a nine hour job, let alone save the country again.
…
“I-I… I can’t do it Akechi. I can’t live like this, not without you. I wasn’t cut out for being a phantom thief, I wasn’t made for this world.” Akira mumbled he could feel the life being drained out of him, his skin felt hollow, as if the blood within him had disappeared. A cold leather glove distracted his thoughts.
“I know you weren’t, poor thing. Close your eyes, Akira. You need to rest.”
Was this really happening? Had the past five years really lead up to this moment? Akira had told himself when he was eighteen, that he would work with teens like himself, who had no support. He’d commit his life to make sure no one ended up being screwed over by their own law enforcement.
”Close your eyes, Akira. You need to rest.”
His vision was blurring, even worse than it had been, he could barely make out what was in front of him, Akira desperately scrambled to grab onto something anything. There was the material of a thin coat beneath his fingers, one he’d known so well from all the times he let it hit the attic floor.
”Close your eyes, Akira. You need to rest.”
Akira’s back hit the bed with a thud. Everything he’d worked for in his teenage years had turned out to have no meaning whatsoever. Akira felt that same gloved hand intertwine with his own, it wasn’t the same warm, somewhat inviting one he knew five years earlier, it was a cold hollow shell of a man. This wasn’t Akechi.
The human subconsciousness really was a funny thing.
…
Bzzzt!
Bzzzt!
‘Hey dude i just got home!!! You seemed a bit down at the end there… I hope ur okay! lets organise a date to visit others’
‘Ill swing by in the morning before work :)’