Author's note: Some people already know this but Adachi is actually one of my favourite characters from Persona 4, along with Nanako. I know right, I couldn't have picked two different characters could I? Seeing as I had already written a Nanako-centric one shot I wanted to try my hand at writing something with Adachi in it. However I confess that despite being my favourite character I find Adachi... very complex, and confusing as hell. Maybe that's why I like him so much, but it made writing anything with him in very difficult, and I already struggle with writing as it is. This was inspired, in part, by the song 'Longview' by Green Day, and partly by the boredom and monotony of the first few hours of my job in the morning, which is to chop twelve big buckets of fruit and vegetables to feed to moose. Needless to say, I daydream a lot.
But hey, at least no-one is crying in this one. I realised that all three of my stories before this feature a character crying at some point. I don't think I know how to write happy people, and honesty this doesn't help with that one bit, but there's no tears so that's a plus.
A cold, bloodshot eye stares at him, reflected in the small shard of what used to be a mirror hung up on the wall. Mirrors aren't really allowed in this prison. They are self-indulgent and what's left of the people that live in the cells aren't allowed any sort of luxuries. Tch, not that looking at my scrawny ass would be a luxury anyway. Adachi is facing life in prison. Life surrounded by grey walls and metal bars. Even the ceiling tiles (all forty-two of them, as he had repeatedly counted) were that dull, so dull it was almost painful to look at, grey.
Fucking grey. He thought. I always hated that damn colour.
Tutting and turning away from his 'mirror' Adachi eases his way across his cell and falls down on his bunk. Hard wood and nothing else greets him as he settles down on the 'bed'. Slowly lifting his weak arms he runs his hands through lank, greasy hair and he finds himself not even remotely disgusted. leaning back, resting his head against the concrete wall he shuts his eyes and for one moment he isn't cold or hungry and he isn't in his prison cell anymore.
Adachi finds himself in the Dojima living room, laughter ringing out, filling the room as himself and the Dojima family sit down to a Junes sushi dinner. Nanako is busy trying her best to use the chopsticks, Dojima is watching from across the table, smiling at his daughters attempts and Yu is laughing along with them. Warmth fills all of his senses. The colours of the living room, the delicious smell of the fish and vegetables that he'll never eat again, the sound of a child's laughter, something that usually would have irritated him to no end, instead filling him with a sense of joy that he hadn't experienced in so long. He almost smiles at the memory, but not quite.
His eyes snap open and reality's unsympathetic hand grips him once again, however for a moment he stares at the usually blank wall ahead of him. He gasps and is startled for a moment as instead of the usual concrete tiles he is staring right at a cartoon flower, drawn in pink crayon. He remembers drawing this exact flower for Nanako, so many times, often just to see the smile that would adorn her face as she praised his 'art skills'. He blinks and once again the wall is blank, only the hard concrete looking back at him this time.
His stomach growls suddenly and echoes around the small cell, bouncing off the walls and returning back to him until silence falls once again. He takes a quick glance at the bowl of gruel on the floor by his bed, but quickly turns away. Adachi was used to hunger, it didn't bother him at all, what did bother him was the constriction he felt inside these four small walls. Every passing minute they felt smaller and it was suffocating him, leaving him gasping, shaking and for the first time in a while, terrified.
He closes his eyes once more trying his best to find solace. This time he is transported back into the entryway to Junes. Talking to that grey-haired brat while trying to avoid the senile old ladies that loved to bug him so much. Adachi smiles slightly at the memory. Grocery shopping was always that little bit nicer when he had someone to talk to, not that he would admit it to anyone. That Narukami kid could somehow take his mind away from his pitiful amounts of cup ramen and cabbage that he would end up buying.
A scuttling sound disrupts his thoughts, he looks down and a cockroach is quickly making it's way towards his feet. He follows it with his eyes, watching as it scurries it's way through the dust and dirt building up on the floor.
Huh, just you and me now I suppose. Say, what do you think about the colour grey?
The cockroach stops it's journey abruptly, turning and making it's way towards the bars of his holding cell.
Oh no you don't.
Quicker than he's moved in the past months he jumps from his bunk, takes one large stride to the other side of his cell and quick as a flash stomps down as hard as he can. Lifting his foot, a small squelch and the remnants of his last acquaintance stick partially to the bottom of his shoe.
Well, at least I've still got it. Piece of shit anyway, taking up room in my cell.
Adachi grins and looks up, the reflection of his eye catching his attention once more, however this time the passing gleam of excitement didn't go amiss.
Suddenly the harsh sounds of metal hitting concrete break Adachi out of his reverie and he turns to see the door to his section swung open. A square-faced officer pointing at him and shouting something he couldn't understand. The officer sighs and slams the door shut, walking towards the bars of his cell shouting once more that he has a visitor. The officer takes a pair of cold, grey handcuffs out of his pocket and slips them over his wrists, tightening them until he could feel the metal digging into his skin, making sure they leave their marks.
He is quickly marched through the steel doors and down a long corridor, struggling to find his footing to keep up with the pace set by the officer. He passes dozens of prison guards who are all staring at him, occasionally whispering to each other in hushed tones. He wonders briefly if they have bets going on how long he will last in this place. He was already just skin and bone when he arrived and the lack of food and constant pacing in his cell aren't doing much to help that.
As the doors to the visiting room are opened in front of him the intense light blinds him momentarily. He tries to focus his vision, but after months of just a dark cell, barely any natural or artificial light, his eyes are damaged. Fogginess obscures his sight but as he squints and tries to look straight ahead, he swears for a moment that he can make out a head of grey hair.
Fucking grey.