Case 9 - SKIN
Fame, money, power, Shido Masayoshi had it all, but it would never be enough. There would always be one more step to take, one more ladder to climb.
He was an extraordinary man – it would be safe to say he was one of a kind. Charismatic, intelligent and ambitious, he was the definition of a born leader, with his share of followers, but detractors, as well. He was admired, envied, hated, feared. And it wasn't only his enemies that should fear him, for his own allies and accomplices were never safe from his whims either… or his wrath. The people he betrayed could only blame themselves when they felt the gun of the hitman pressing harder against their head. This was their retribution for believing they were untouchable, a reminder that Shido was beyond compare. He was both the chess master and the strategist, cold, calculating, never above sacrificing one chess piece or two if it could bring him closer to victory. Soon, only one would be left – the king. But to him, this was more than enough. He had no need for an army. There would be only one man left standing on the chessboard, and that man would be Shido.
If Shido was the king, then it was only natural to believe Goro was a knight. Knights were practically heroes, after all; and they were always at the king's beck and call just like Goro had been. But they were also ready to die for their king without a second thought, and as such, Goro couldn't actually be a knight. He was really just a pawn, left at the mercy of the ruling king. And of course, Shido Masayoshi would never show some.
This is why Goro was surprised to find out that he was, in fact, alive. Some way or another, he had escaped Shido's reprisal.
Perhaps he had managed to give a satisfying excuse for his even worse lateness than in his previous past, no matter how unlikely it was that Shido found any short of acceptable. Perhaps the ATN had been merciful enough to send him to a present occurring only hours after his encounter with Sakamoto, meaning he could still find a way to slip through this deadly net. Even so, while this last prospect sounded promising, Goro knew it sounded too good to be true. Something felt off, and the sensation of unease grazing at him only turned sharper when he registered, at last, the persistent ache nibbling at his head. Sure enough, his hand met with a bump at its top. How did it get there…?
Perhaps this injury was the reason he felt so groggy. His eyes felt impossibly heavy, to the point he gave up trying to open them and relied on his other senses instead. He was apparently lying face downwards on a mattress, which was so thin that he could feel something underneath digging at his chest. Cold air was enveloping his body, and one graze of his naked finger told him his arm was covered in goosebumps. Yet, the skin felt warm.
No, more than warm, it felt painful.
Goro paused for the space of a moment. He would have lingered on the strange sensation longer, if he hadn't finally noticed he was actually bare-chested.
What the…
His stomach tightened. This didn't sound good. Not good at all. A part of him was determined to keep his eyes squeezed shut and wallow in blissful ignorance, but he of course knew he would be only delaying the inevitable. Using all his might, he climbed to his knees (the soreness of his body intensified, which did nothing to ease his mind), took a deep, shaky breath, and very slowly fluttered his eyes open.
It didn't take him long to figure out why his skin felt so scorching and tingly.
…For his entire upper body was covered in intricate tattoos, clearly delivered from the hand of an expert. Almost every last inch of his torso, arms, and supposedly back – if the protests of his nerves were anything to go by – was covered in ink. Had his body not stung so much, he might have thought it a joke.
Goro wanted to scream, but the only sound that escaped his lips was a strangled whimper. His throat was refusing to cooperate, and it took what felt like agonizing hours before he eventually managed to regain control over his voice.
"This isn't real… This is wrong… This is completely insane…" he couldn't help but mutter to himself, as though saying the words aloud instead of merely thinking them would undo the horrifying sight.
Of course, there was no undoing. The situation was very real, so much that Goro was suddenly overtaken by an urge to vomit; the realization was too strong, too absolute. He brought a hand to his mouth, unable to comprehend what was going on. His mind was inexorably going blank – but he knew he couldn't allow himself to get lost in the white haze threatening to swallow him whole.
Goro gasped for air, feeling his heartbeat slow down just a little with each gulp. Gathering mental strength, he forced himself to look at his body again, only to feel nauseous again.
The electric burns he suffered inside the hotel Palace had practically disappeared under the ink. His skin was swollen and its color a disturbing shade of red, with a few scabs and blisters here and there. It felt like his body was on fire, as if every single square inch was screaming against the smarting. At any rate, the discovery had been a rude awakening – both figuratively and literally. All traces of his drowsiness were now gone.
The tattoos were hard enough to swallow, and that was a major understatement, but they were almost eclipsed from Goro's mind as another but not any less harsh reality dawned on him at last: he didn't recognize his surroundings. The first thought crossing his mind was that he was in a cellar, or perhaps a basement of sort. Indeed, there was neither door nor windows, only a large, decayed white room that was as large as it was empty. Fluorescent lights were embedded into the ceiling, casting a harsh, unpleasant brightness around. The floor wasn't worthy of being called as such, for it was little more than a layer of broken slabs. Goro could see their irregular shapes and bumps underneath the mattress he woke up on.
Struggling to get his bearings, Goro climbed to his feet unsteadily, darting his eyes everywhere for any possible escape all the while, until his heart gave a little jolt. A tiny, barely visible trapdoor was there in the middle of the low ceiling, and while there was no ladder, he could easily jump and climb through it… that is, were it not for the fact it was locked.
"Dammit!" he spat, knocking hard on the trapdoor halfway through frustration and desperation. "Is anyone there? Let me out!"
There was no response, no matter how many times he slammed his palm against the ceiling. But just as he was becoming aware of the smarting in his hand, the sound of slow, heavy footsteps shuffled right above him, followed by the rattling of the trapdoor being handled and then a small draft of fresh air falling through. Breathing a sigh of relief, Goro took a step back to let who was undoubtedly his savior climb down a foldable ladder, some clothes folded in a messy ball under their arm. Before he had time to say anything – he didn't even know where to begin – the person spoke out, cutting him very much short.
"So you're finally up, kiddo. You were out cold for hours… I was beginning to wonder if you'd ever wake up…"
Something told Goro he might need to reevaluate his previous assessment. Perhaps it was the shady sunglasses. Perhaps it was the disturbing grin that made him feel like he was the unwilling subject of a not so flattering joke. Perhaps it was the cheery voice, too saccharine for the words it spoke. One thing was clear, however – that man was no savior. Goro's face hardened harshly.
"Who are you? Why am I here? What in the world are those things on my bo—" he shot rapidly, desperate for answers – but the man all of a sudden grabbed one of his arms, robbing him of his speech as effectively as if he had been suckerpunched.
"Damn, they turned out even better than expected. Twas a challenge to work on those scars, but I think I did a pretty good job all things considered," he boasted while eyeing the complex design close to his face, his pride almost obscene.
Goro violently jerked his arm away. The astonishment written all over his face earned him a nonchalant shrug before the man elaborated.
"Ah yeah, I was told you'd be confused. Didn't tell me anything about keeping my mouth shut, so I guess I can give you the gist of it…" he said, the expression behind his shades making it clear he thought he was doing Goro a huge favor. "Someone contacted me for this job. Your name, your address, your picture, they gave me everything. Told me I had free rein. You know, the check was big… real big… I probably made more money thanks to you alone than all my jobs combined. Maybe 'cause you're rather famous around, who knows?"
What this man's demeanor suggested to Goro was chilling. He sounded as though he had merely described the weather.
"By the way, sorry for the bump…" he went on, with the air of someone who wasn't sorry at all. "You weren't exactly cooperative when I came to get you, so I had no choice…"
"So you're saying you came to my apartment, knocked me out, took me here and tattooed me against my will…?" Goro replied blankly, utterly stunned, not believing what he was even saying – but it wasn't long before confusion began to fade in favor of boiling anger, realization slowly sinking its roots deeply in. "Assault, kidnapping, sequestration, body disfigurement, of a law officer…?"
"Uh… Guess that's one way to put it, yeah," the man responded awkwardly, though he apparently was not that bothered by his nerve. "But you're not going to do anything about it, right, Mister high school detective? The client told me you wouldn't dare call your cop pals on me. Was so sure of it, in fact, it was almost impressive."
Goro clenched his fists, hard. He could feel a vein pulse in his temple.
"Who… ordered this…?" he growled, but he felt like he already knew.
"No idea. The name on the check was foreign, but in my line of work, clients always use aliases. Never met them either. We just exchanged mails."
He didn't need to say more. The implications and circumstances spoke for themselves. This was Goro's punishment, the price to pay for his negligence. Shido had probably figured that if his subordinate was so unreliable and forgetful, then an indelible reminder would be the obvious solution to correct it. Goro was still alive only because his powers were too precious to Shido, that much was clear. If this incident had happened when Shido was at the height of his power, he knew he would be already gone.
"No hard feelings, alright? Business is business," came the distant voice of the shady man, but Goro didn't hear him. Another was resonating inside his head, powerful, threatening.
"Do you understand what it means to defy me?!"
Goro did. He knew Shido was capable of the worst. But what he had just done… that was beyond him. Each glance at the mirror would cement the memory of him in Goro's mind. This was his message, a way to tell him that the pawn could never escape from the king. Goro felt as though cold and strong hands had wrapped around his throat, tightening their iron grip on it.
Goro gritted his teeth, suddenly overwhelmed by a tidal wave of rage.
"No hard feelings, right? A man's gotta do what he's gotta do to survive in this cruel harsh world. Hope you understand."
The ominous snicker that ensued was met by no response. Goro simply stared at the ground, his eyes hidden behind his bangs. It was hard to tell what exactly was reflected in their depths. The humiliation was too severe. He had lost against his father, once again. Shido… Shido…
I'll kill you… I will kill you, you bastard…
Surprisingly enough, the hectic events happening around Goro since the day he escaped the engine room had managed to mellow out his hatred for his father, if only slightly. He had been simply too busy to remember his grudge, but it was now coming back in full force, overpowering, swallowing him, incapacitating him. Goro believed his hate for Shido had already reached its apex a long time ago, but he realized he had been mistaken: it managed to be pushed even further away than what he thought to be the limits of the possible. The proof of it was there, deep within his heart. It was acting like a deadly poison, depriving him of all his rationality.
Perhaps Shido was actually enjoying this. Perhaps he didn't care at all. Perhaps he had coldly ordered the job, only to forget all about it afterwards as he went about his next business. Goro would probably never know. His blood was now boiling, translating into a hatred that must have shown on his face, for the man suddenly shoved the pile of clothes into his hands – probably in an attempt to have him snap back to the present.
"How long are you going to stand there? Get dressed already and then get out, okay? I'm a very busy man," he said with that infuriating joking undertone as Goro recognized his own clothes. His white shirt, blazer and striped tie were all crumpled, his gloves sloppily peeking out of one pocket. His cell phone was thankfully there as well, while the pair of silver pins were still safely secured on the collar of his shirt. A very faint sensation of relief eased Goro's heart in spite of the circumstances.
After an agonizingly long silence, dragging to the point of being seriously awkward, Goro tore his hateful glare away from the man and hastily put his clothes back on one piece at a time. Then, by the time he slipped into his gloves, his arm was roughly grabbed and yanked toward the trapdoor, leading him above ground and toward the exit. The area around seemed a regular tattoo parlor, deserted and crummy-looking.
"Well, thanks for your business, kid," the man said with a stupid grin before almost literally kicking Goro outside the shop. One split second later, the 'Open' sign on the front door had been flipped over to 'Closed.'
Goro stood there in the busy street, face, mind and being blank. His brain had ceased to function, just like a machine suffering system failure after it went into sudden overheat. Vacantly, he stared at his reflection in the shop window, his eyes blank; a bit of black ink was peeking out from above his collar. Pulling it up mechanically, Goro then finally turned around and glanced at his surroundings, realizing where he was right away – he had met Sakamoto here what felt less than one hour ago, right in front of the tattoo parlor he just exited. He had, however, a hunch that way more time had passed in reality… and sure enough, his phone confirmed it: the date showed April 24, 2016. What was he supposed to do now…?
As Goro tried in vain to collect his thoughts, a voice suddenly rang next to him, close enough to overpower the chatter of the passersby. The unmistakable worry in it was the decisive factor in Goro's attention being directed to a couple of middle-aged women nearby, both seemingly engrossed in a serious conversation.
"Oh, and did you hear? A teacher was found dead this morning… My daughter was one of his students. They said his eyes were wide open, yet completely blank… And he was frothing at the mouth… The spit was black…"
"I heard, yes… He taught at Shujin, didn't he? I can only imagine how the students and the other teachers must feel right now… Wasn't that man the pride and joy of the school?"
"He certainly was. My daughter told me he was an incredible athlete, after all… An olympic medalist, even, who then became a PE teacher. What was his name again? Kawashima? Or was it Kikugawa…"
Goro looked up, straight ahead while seeing nothing. For a while, he stood there, motionless and numb as realization slowly dawned on him. Then, it clicked.
Kamoshida Suguru, teacher at Shujin Academy… He was the Phantom Thieves' first target…
Uneasiness shot through Goro's brain, managing to make him even forget about the ink carved in his skin, and he instinctively brought a hand to his chin to gather his thoughts. Something was wrong. According to what he just heard, there was no doubt Kamoshida had been killed inside the other world. But he had been reformed in the previous history, never turning up dead… meaning something happened while Goro was being sent back to his new future – something he could at least safely assume he had no part in. Somebody else had killed Kamoshida. And Goro was beginning to get an inkling, a horrible inkling, as to who did him in…
His brain was cluttered to the point it felt dangerously close to shutting down under the strain. So absorbed was he in his thoughts, Goro hadn't even noticed his legs carrying him to a completely different street. A wall of TVs displayed in a shop window caught his eye; his reflection had smiled at him from inside those screens, technically six days ago from today. Two things were new, however. The silent TVs were covering Kamoshida's death, judging from the scrolling headlines, and Sakamoto Ryuji was there, peering at them with a strange expression of awe on his face. He seemed entirely oblivious to Goro's presence, his phone call monopolizing all his attention.
"Yeah, I'm watchin' the TV report… He kicked the bucket all right… It really worked…"
Goro's blood ran cold. His heart gave a leap out of the blue before starting into a distant race.
"Okay, we didn't listen to the cat… So what? You know we did the right thing, Ann! You know the asshole deserved it! Think of Suzui!"
Sakamoto's face was more serious than ever and yet, Goro didn't fail to notice the hint of excitement glinting in his eyes. There was something almost manic about his manner.
"C'mon, reformin' him would have been like givin' him a slap on the wrist. What's wrong with showin' the world there are people like us who can fight back? Aren't you tired of bein' looked down by others? Aren't you sick of those people givin' you shit from their stupid-ass high horses like, like your whole existence's wrong, because they think they're better than you? You know Ren agrees with me."
Sakamoto's expression had turned to one of defiance during his argument, until a self-satisfied smile curved his lips. Clearly, he had won the debate.
"Glad to see you finally get it," he said simply, although the note of arrogance in his words was undeniable. "K, let's meet at the hideout tomorrow. We're gonna need to throw a party, am I right?"
As Sakamoto hung up, whistling a little tune, Goro, for his part, found it very difficult to feel carefree. One of Kamoshida's killers stood right there within arm's reach, confirming all his suspicions… His stomach stirred uncomfortably. It felt wrong, wrong that Sakamoto and Takamaki purposefully murdered someone, wrong that Amamiya…
Goro shook his head, forcefully chasing the thought away before the sensation inside his stomach could intensify. He had to fix all of this, and fast – one tap on the Another Time Navi was all he needed. He didn't realize his hands were slightly shaking when he reached into his pocket and slid his phone out.
"Oh, it's you… Mister Detective. Eavesdroppin' on people again, are we?"
Goro looked up, his wary features meeting scornful ones. Sakamoto had emphasized the 'Mister Detective' part in a way that was hardly flattering.
"I'm not sure I would call it eavesdropping when you shout your achievements from the rooftops…" Goro shot back in spite, jerking his chin toward the TVs as he spoke. "You did this, didn't you…?"
Sakamoto's eyes didn't betray anything even remotely close to shock or panic. Instead, he sneered with a swagger, obviously very pleased with himself.
"I told yuu before, remember? That I could take matters into my own hands. You got your proof right there," he replied, lazily pointing at the TVs while faking a yawn. "I couldn't give less of a shit that you know what I did. You'll be a nobody soon anyway. People won't need detectives or the cops anymore... not when we are here to take care of the shitheads you useless assholes are supposed to stop."
Goro opened his mouth in outrage, but Sakamoto went on before he could spit his venom – venom that Sakamoto's matched in equal measure.
"And we even get to steal actual treasures and make a lotta money out of it… Y'know, I could get used to that. Was gettin' tired of all those bastards who flaunt their stuff and give me the stink eye like I was a damn hobo or somethin'. Guess you can't relate, huh?"
Sakamoto eyed Goro's school uniform like it had personally offended him – he had to know it was tailor-made. His sight then lowered upon Goro's cell phone, still clutched tightly in his hand.
"Hey, that's a nice phone—nicer than mine. Must have been expensive," he said nonchalantly. "Nice clothes, nice school, nice phone—I'm sure you could spare somethin' for the less lucky, right? It might humble you a bit, don't you think?"
Goro furrowed an eyebrow and took a step back, but it was far too late. In the blink of an eye, Sakamoto snatched his phone and spun around, sprinting away like a rocket. His eyes widening in shock, Goro stopped thinking and immediately gave chase, mentally cursing himself for his own negligence. How come this history seemed to worsen with each minute that passed?
Years of fighting in the other world had considerably improved Goro's athletic capabilities, but Sakamoto proved himself to be almost impossible to catch up with despite it all. He seemed to avoid bumping into the passersby effortlessly, almost as though they were not there at all, akin to a shark swimming freely among reefs and shoals. Goro followed at a run, growing more and more desperate even as Sakamoto gave no sign of fatigue whatsoever.
"Give it back! Give it back, you bastard!" he shouted, his frantic heart sinking at the prospect of losing the ATN forever; his command fell on deaf ears. Sakamoto merely sped up and took a right turn, with Goro trailing to find himself in a narrow alley. But then, a miracle happened: Sakamoto suddenly crumpled down in a heap, grunting in pain.
"Dammit… Kamoshida, you asshole…" he groaned, bringing a knee to his chest. Goro finally reached him, his sprint slowing to a halt, his heavy panting joining Sakamoto's flood of curses. Gingerly, legs still trembling, he stepped toward his cell phone, which had fallen to the ground as well – but Sakamoto suddenly leapt to his feet, wincing at the effort.
"Dammit… Dammit! Get lost already!" he spat in rage, looking strikingly like a rabid dog. The emotion on Goro's face could be described as nothing else but pity.
"What in the world happened to you… Why did you become like this…" he couldn't help but whisper, feeling the adrenaline within his body begin to fade.
But even as he asked the question, he knew he already had the answer. He had known since the beginning, but he couldn't ignore it anymore. His actions in the past had influenced the future… once again. His heated argument with Sakamoto back then was the reason he had turned out this way, he was sure of it. Goro had never liked him, and he knew the feeling was mutual. Sakamoto was the opposite of everything he believed in, to the point it was almost natural that they could never get along – just like cats and dogs. But no matter how big of an idiot Sakamoto was, Goro knew painfully well he would never steal anything from anyone, let alone kill. Meeting Sakamoto back then was a mistake. It should never have happened.
Passersby had now gathered at the end of the alleyway, keeping their distance from the two teenagers. Some of them just watched, others took their phones out to call for help in case a fight broke out. Meanwhile, Sakamoto seemed close to exploding, his rage so primal it was frightening. He was almost raving at this point, one eye twitching as he kept vomiting his venom at Goro.
"Who the hell do you think you are?! Lookin' down on me like I'm worthless last time, laughin' your ass off 'cause of my leg—"
"I'm not—" Goro began half in outrage, half in an attempt to reassure him, but to no avail. Sakamoto couldn't be stopped anymore.
"Can't stand people like you, assholes who always have it so easy… You'll never understand, you'll never know how it feels to be treated like shit every single day…"
Goro's heart tightened. Watching Sakamoto was painful. Not because of secondhand embarrassment, or something equally uncalled for… It was painful because he felt like he was observing a mirror version of himself. A reflection full of hatred and resentment, angry at the wrong person, blinded by his emotions going haywire and unable to think rationally.
There was one difference between Akechi Goro and Sakamoto Ryuji, however. The pressure of killing somebody had made Sakamoto snap – he had practically gone insane. The person that currently seemed more like a time bomb wasn't the Sakamoto Goro had known, and he knew he was the one to blame for it.
"You think I shouldn't have iced Kamoshida, right? You think I'm the worst kind of scumbag, right?!" Sakamoto went on, eyes now bloodshot, flecks of spit spraying everywhere. "What about him, though?! That guy made all our lives a living hell, you know that?! Killin' him was doing the world a favor! It made us—me—a freakin' hero!"
"No… It didn't," Goro replied very calmly, his words free of harshness. "It only made you a murderer."
"You—you don't—you have no idea—" Sakamoto sputtered, like he were on the verge of choking. "Just, just shut the hell up! It's not like you have any idea what you're talkin' about!"
"I do."
Goro spoke the words in a mere whisper and yet, they sounded strangely loud, like a quiet gunshot. For the space of a heartbeat, Sakamoto looked genuinely caught off-guard. He fixed Goro with an incredulous stare, remaining motionless even as Goro thought it safe to retrieve his phone. But when Goro straightened up once more, this comfortable notion was thrown out of the window in flash: Sakamoto was standing mere inches away from him, a dangerous vein alive in his brow, fists the knuckles of which were white, daggers in his eyes glaring worse than any gaze Goro had ever seen until now.
"Stop… messin' with me…" Sakamoto growled, looking less and less human by the minute. His voice then faltered – sounding almost frightened. "You don't know nothin' about takin' someone's life…"
Goro took an instinctive step backward. Even so, he refused to cower. "Stop trying to act so tough. Not many people can bear the guilt of killing someone. It's only natural that you would be scared."
It appeared those words were exactly what he shouldn't have said. The countdown had reached zero. The time bomb was about to go off.
"Scared…? You think I'm scared...?" Sakamoto murmured slowly, his tone strangely distant, like his mind wasn't there anymore. "I'm not… I'll show you…"
And before Goro realized what he was doing, Sakamoto's hand had dived into his pocket. A knife came out from it, the steel catching a glint of light.
Goro's breath stopped in his throat.
The blow came faster than his reason was prepared for, but Goro instinctively reacted; the hand that didn't hold his cell phone moved on its own. He couldn't comprehend what was happening. He wasn't aware of what his body was doing anymore. It was almost as if someone had taken possession of it, and he was now a mere spectator. Then, he heard it. A sickening noise resounded in his ears, and Goro's eyes opened wide.
The knife had slid easily into the flesh. It could have been melted butter and the result would have been the same. There had been absolutely no resistance, no clothes to slow down the blade, no bones to stop it, nothing at all.
After an eternity that really lasted a matter of seconds, Sakamoto Ryuji collapsed.
Goro just stared, transfixed by what he just did. His body and mind were going numb. His heart went off into a frantic rhythm, although even that went unnoticed. But then, a sudden noise shook the air and startled him awake – a scream.
Too late, he heard the commotion around and the sirens ring in the distance. They were coming closer and closer, igniting in him a primal instinct to just run, but Goro was paralyzed. Before he could regain control over his limbs, he was already surrounded, and this is when he finally found the strength to do anything other than simply stand rooted to the spot: speaking.
"I… I didn't want this…" he breathed, his voice wavering with each syllable.
Of course, admitting it wouldn't earn him the mercy of the police, and he knew it. Goro couldn't think properly any longer. Common sense and rational thinking were no more, overpowered by the most primitive instinct of man. For a split second, he stood still—
"Watch it! He's trying to—"
—and then leapt toward the human wall, only guided by a superior authority. Dodging the nearest officer's grab, Goro darted past them and found himself in the wide street, surrounded by frightened people. A charge of adrenaline prickled his nerves but, as he was about to make a run for it, a fistful of his hair was suddenly grabbed roughly. Someone knocked him to the ground, hard, and Goro was now laying there sprawled on his stomach, stunned by the force of the impact. His phone had dropped from his hand and slid on the sidewalk. He just stared at it, enthralled. The Another Time Navi icon was flickering furiously, as if to encourage him to press it…
Of course… How could he have forgotten? His escape route was right there, mere inches away from him…
He extended a trembling arm. One tap… Just one, single tap…
But a stronger force had decided he couldn't get away so easily. Someone twisted his arm hard behind his back and Goro screamed in pain. His other arm quickly followed suit and a clicking noise rang as his wrists were being handcuffed. He was now completely restrained – his legs had been pinned to the ground as well.
"Let go… Let go of me, you bastards…" he hissed, struggling like a desperate animal that knew its next stop would be the slaughterhouse.
His impertinence earned him a powerful blow to the head. He let out a weak grunt of pain, his consciousness drifting away by the second. The last thing he saw through half-lidded eyes was a hand reaching out for his phone, and Goro's vision finally faded to nothingness.
