Chapter Four

All forms of speech crumbled into nothing once Ryuji erupted in flames, Kamoshida's taunting twisted into silent shock, his massive jaw appearing unhinged due to his gaping mouth, the guards too fell silent, transforming into gleaming metal statues, each of them taking in and reflecting the hue of Ryuji's inferno. It was, to say the least, the most stunning sight Akira had laid eyes on, that is until his eyes were forced shut by something even brighter than the flames conjured by Ryuji's awakening; lightning, actual lighting was gathering around the blond and dissecting into the crowd of metal, somehow missing Morgana and himself and appeared to have no effect on Ryuji at all. In tandem, the pillar of Ryuji's flame and the lighting he had somehow conjured spread out, increasing its radius and dulling its intensity. Akira could feel his skin starting to singe from the heat and the crackling of the screaming room, yet, he couldn't take his eyes off of his friend as Ryuji tore his mask away, causing a film of blood to begin shooting down the sharp angles of his nose and cheeks. Again, the storm changed, surging through all of them, Akira included, as Ryuji screamed a final time, his persona beginning to take on its form meters above the blond's head. Akira's head flicked back and forth as he watched each and every guard in the room disintegrate to nothing more than dust, some of them even starting to scream in fear, but none of them moved their legs, just grimly accepted their punishment as Ryuji dealt it.

"Kamoshida!" Ryuji screamed, voice heavy in conviction and pain as he jabbed his now gloved hand towards the castle's ruler, a stark yellow that contrasted Akira's crimson.

"H-how dare you raise your hand to me!" The king shouted in return, raising a hand once more as if to command the guards that no longer existed. Shock registered briefly on Kamoshida's face before he turned back to Ryuji, a horrendous grin taking place on his face, "I've already broken your leg once before, Sakamato, what makes you think I can't do it again?"

Below the steely cover of his mask, Ryuji's face twisted into a grin of his own, "Because I ain't the same kid I was back then, you bastard!" With that, Ryuji waved his arm forward, causing his persona to shift forward and Akira got a good look at the skeletal pirate right before it shot a cannonball at Kamoshida. "I'm going to expose what you are, no matter what!" A shot from his persona punctuating every word.

Kamoshida dove gracelessly out of the way of Ryuji's fire, somehow managing to dodge everything that Ryuji fired at him, running towards the staircase that lead deeper into the castle, "This isn't over, you petulant thieves, the next time you show your faces I won't be so merciful!" The twisted man shouted, whisking away without another word. Ryuji stepped forward, obviously intent to follow Kamoshida into a trap, only to start limply falling forward. Akira was quick to intercept though, preventing the blond from face-planting onto the marble flooring, where the remains of Kamoshida's guards were still settling to the ground.

"We have to… c-chase after him!" Ryuji pleaded, voice as pliant as his body was. Akira just wished his friend wasn't so heavy.

Morgana stepped up to them then, "You're too weak right now, Ryuji, we should leave before any more guards show up."

Ryuji mumbled something in defiance, but didn't put up much of a fight as Akira hooked the blond's arm over his shoulder and began to drag him towards the other end of the entrance hall where the ventilation shaft that they'd entered from was located. Fortunately, by the time they'd actually reached the shaft, Sakamato seemed to have recovered some of his strength, so Akira didn't have to somehow hoist the boy off the ground, something he was immensely thankful for.

Once they were outside of the castle, Morgana stepped in front of them, a strange look blatantly obvious in its overly sized eyeballs, "To think you had the potential too, Ryuji." The cat said, sounding pleased. Akira's own thoughts were on the same subject, though, he supposed it was bound to happen. Sakamato's will of rebellion, as Morgana had called it, was the most obvious thing about him.

"Is this a skull?" Sakamato asked, pawing at his mask with his gloved hands. For the first time, Akira could look at his friend without being blinded by fire, lighting, or adrenaline. Sakamato's outfit consisted of leather and pieces of metal, the only thing preventing the blond from being a black and silver blob was the yellow gloves and the red scarf dangling from his neck, identical to the one that his persona had been wearing. His mask was, as Sakamato had predicted, the upper half of a skull, the crown starting at the edge of his hairline with the points of its teeth poking past the lines of Ryuji's cheeks.

"It reflects your inner self. It's the rebel that lies within." Morgana explained, his massive blue eyes scanning up and down Sakamato's transformed appearance.

It suits him… somehow… Akira wondered, taking in how Sakamato's look seemed to accent his terrible posture with metal snaking up his crooked spine.

"Oh shit!" The blond screeched suddenly, causing him and Morgana to jump a little, "We're so screwed!" Despite Sakamato's earlier confidence, it still seemed he was unsure of the whole situation.

"Keep your voice down!" Morgana yowled, just as loud as Sakamato's outburst.

"It don't matter! The real Kamoshida is still going to have our asses!" Sakamato growled out, shaking his fist at Morgana as if he were an old man.

Morgana sighed loudly in response, its furry appendages coming to rub at what Akira assumed to be its temples, "No, he won't. I thought I already said this, but, your interactions in a palace don't affect the real person in any way." Sakamato let out a huge sigh of relief, tension visibly exiting his body, causing his posture to, somehow, grow even more slouched. "A shadow is the true self that is suppressed—a side of themselves that they don't want to see." That, to Akira at least, was strange to hear. His one, and only, interaction with Kamoshida in the real world had him acting very much the same way as he did in his palace.

Maybe… he doesn't like being that way then? Akira tried, though he knew it was much more likely that Kamoshida just didn't view himself as a giant, perverted menace that was feared instead of adored, and also happened to be the target of two students and cat-thing.

"Sweet," Sakamato muttered lowly, the part of his face that his mask didn't cover turning into a thoughtful frown, "Now all we've got to do is—"

"Wait!" Morgana interjected, its ears perking up straight, "I've helped you escape twice now, it's time you held up your end of the deal." Akira glanced over to Sakamato, attempting to gauge the boy's reaction, but the blond only looked as confused as Akira felt.

Morgana sighed.

"Remember what I told you? How I lost my true form?" Sakmato nodded, then Morgana rotated his bulbous head to look at him. The cat looked completely serious for once, any sign, as far as Akira could tell, of Morgana's bravado and cockiness had disappeared. "I need to erase the distortion that occurred on my body and regain my real form." There was a sudden and obvious shift in Morgana's mood then, "But when I was investigating this place, that…" It trailed off, growling.

"Bastard?" Sakamato supplied plainly, though the visible part of his face had tensed up since the last time Akira had looked at him.

"Bastard!" Morgana echoed, anger rolling off of his small body in massive waves, "Captured and tortured me! That's why I…" Morgana trailed off once again, its giant eyes rolling towards the floor, "Need your help." It whispered, so quietly and pitifully that Akira had barely managed to catch it. "After we take down Kamoshida, that is."

Seems fair enough. Akira supposed, taking down Kamoshida was definitely going to make his parole much easier and infinitely less creepy, and while he had no idea how either he or Sakamato were going to help a cat turn into a human, it was definitely worth it. Unless he got arrested, then it wouldn't matter; nothing would matter then.

Sakamato, however, seemed to disagree.

"What the hell!?" The blond shouted, seeming to have forgotten that they were soliciting on the cognitive property of someone that wanted them dead. "What are you going on about? We never said anything about helping you out…" Sakamato argued, his frown turning into sheepish once he seemed to remember that Akira was very much alive.

"Sorry dude…" The blond muttered.

Akira shrugged, not really put off by the comment so much as he was by Sakamato's refusal.

He tugged out his cell phone as the cat started ranting, rather nonsensically, about honor among thieves and how they should be thanking him for the opportunity.

So Morgana is a male… Akira supposed it was a bit rude to refer to the cat as an it, but decided it would be even ruder to ask it what gender it was. A slight relief.

He's helping us take down Kamoshida, it seems fair enough that we help him regain his true form, whatever that means.

Sakamato frowned as he read the text that was shoved in his face, then he sighed.

"I guess you're right…" He admitted quietly, casting a long look towards the castle they had just escaped from.

Sakamato turned to Morgana, "Alright… I guess we can help you after we deal with Kamoshida, deal?" He then extended his gloved hand, Akira mimicked him and suddenly they were both shaking appendages with a smugly grinning cat.

"Deal!" Morgana replied gleefully. "Now you two should get out of here, make sure to come back tomorrow."

Together, he and Sakamato exited the cognitive world and were thrust back into the empty alley that they'd entered from, Akira's phone also informing them, rather joyfully for a robotic device, that they had returned to the real world.

Sakamato turned to him then, surprising Akira, though he knew he shouldn't be, by the amount of skin the blond's face had, as well as how noticeably he expressed his thoughts.

"Uh," The blond mumbled, leaning against the wall behind him, "Sorry for dragging you along in all this, and for forcing you to help and all."

Akira was stunned for a moment, before taking out his phone and typing a reply.

I was planning to go anyway. I should be thanking you for saving my life, Sakamato, Morgana should too but…

Sakamato scoffed loudly, deadpanning at him with a vulgar frown on his lips, "Dude, what are you, an old man? Call me Ryuji; come on, say it with me: Ryu—" Ryuji stopped talking as a flush took up space on his cheeks. Akira watched blankly as the blond began scratching his the back of his neck, "Er… right, sorry." He sighed.

Akira shrugged in reply, once again, not bothered by Sakamato's—Ryuji's callousness, as much as he was bothered by something else; that something, in this instance, being the use of… Ryuji's given name. Still, he supposed he owed it to his friend for saving his life, and it was a small, though uncomfortable, way to show his gratitude

Thank you very much, Ryuji-san. He typed out, rather formally in a last-ditch effort to make Ryuji see why he might be uncomfortable.

Ryuji spluttered, then growled, then finally laughed loud it enough that it echoed off the walls encasing them. "Anyway, Akira," Ryuji jabbed effectively, causing Akira's face to sprout its own patch of color, "It ain't that late, you wanna grab some food?" He asked, grinning brightly, "My treat." The blonde taunted, as if that would help convince him.

Akira shrugged, then nodded in reply, pocketing his cell phone as the blond led the way out of the small network of alleys and towards the station.

The train ride was no less nauseating when he was with someone he knew, but it was much more embarrassing with Ryuji mocking him as opposed to sitting in silence like the rest of the passengers. Fortunately though, the train ride from the station near their school to where Ryuji, as well as himself, decided to get off was a short one, less than ten minutes. Akira followed the blond blindly, letting him be the guide while Akira was swept up into his thoughts once again.

Morgana said that Sakamato has the potential… The way he'd understood it when Morgana had first been explaining it was that anyone with a strong sense of rebellion could awaken to a persona, which, if he now understood it, was untrue. Then again, he mused, there would be a lot more people randomly walking a palace… He wondered if that had happened, a similar instance to his and Ryuji's story except they'd been alone and died because of it.

When did I become so morbid…

He, fortunately, did not have time to answer his own inquiry before they'd arrived, to Akira's understanding, their destination. Ryuji held open the door for him and Akira slid past him and was assaulted by a thick wall of aroma. Equally as nausea inducing as the train had been, if not more so. The smell of cheap food was overwhelming. Still, he set forth, continuing to follow Ryuji until they were both seated at a bar that surrounded the source of the disarming scent.

Akira hadn't been planning on ordering anything, the task being too complicated without verbal communication or a menu.

Ryuji slammed his fist on the bar, "Two large beef bowls!" He shouted once an employee was in earshot. "Two large beef bowls!" The employee, a sickly looking teen, most likely the same age as them, shouted towards the kitchen before running into said kitchen. Akira blinked, but ignored the oddity, assuming this to be one of Tokyo's strange customs that he'd remained ignorant of in the few days he'd been here.

Minutes later, the same employee returned with two bowls filled with sizzling beef and set them in front of them. "Enjoy your meal!" He said in a poor attempt at cheerful before dashing off to another part of the restaurant. It was painfully obvious then what was going on, though he'd never seen it in practice, it seemed that the restaurant was very, very understaffed for the number of customers within the establishment. He turned his attention to Ryuji, feeling guilty for adding to the burden of an overworked employee; Ryuji however, had no qualms, and didn't seem to notice the situation as his sole focus was on delivering the contents of the bowl as quickly as possible to his mouth. Which was mildly off-putting but also quite impressive.

"You're not eating." Ryuji said minutes later, his own bowl empty. Akira blinked, now seeing the food he'd been staring blankly at for several minutes.

"Sorry." He signed out of reflex.

"I dunno what the means," Ryuji said plainly, before tapping on Akira's still full bowl, "We did a lot of runnin' today, you need to fill up, you're already a twig already…"

Akira shook his head, and reached into his pocket to grab at his phone.

I'm not hungry. Which was the truth, though Sakamato looked skeptical, then met his gaze with a sad look in his eyes.

"Still upset about those pictures of Suzui?" The blond asked, his voice nothing more than a whisper.

Suzui… There was something weird—disgusting and horrid, about seeing a person, someone who went to their school and could have walked in front of him at school, and knowing what they looked like naked without knowing their name. His focus hadn't been on the girl's—Suzui's nakedness at the time, but the sheer number of bruises that marked her; a large number of them, particularly around her arms, were in the shape of hands, giving her purple cuffs. It was… disturbing. Though it only reaffirmed his belief that they had to deal with Kamoshida.

Akira nodded.

"…Right, sorry." Ryuji said, as if he could have prevented the blunder of seeing those images. "I'll get you a box, just… make sure you eat it later, cool?" Akira nodded, feeling, once again, vulnerable and numb due to Kamoshida's sickness.

Ryuji took the liberty of transferring the food from container to container and carried it with him as they exited the building. The walk to the station was quiet, well, he and Ryuji were quiet, everything else was painfully loud.

"Uh," Ryuji said, extending the box of food towards him once they were inside the station, "Here." Akira took the box, and smiled a little in an attempt to show gratitude to his friend for understanding.

"Gimme your phone!" The blond shouted once he'd turned around to head towards his terminal, he turned around once more, staring at the boy who had just yelled at him like he was going to rob him. "So I can text you, later, I mean." He explained gruffly, scratching at his nose.

Akira did as he was told, handing over the device carefully. Sakamato snatched it from his hand and began to snoop through it, his own phone positioned in his other hand while his attention switched between the two. "Sweet, we use the same app." Ryuji muttered as he began typing.

An awkward amount of time later, in which they were both stared at by a large number of people, all of them muttering about delinquents, as if his criminal record were stapled to both their backs, Ryuji handed back the device with the their mutual chat application still open.

"I also put my number in there, just in case." Ryuji said with a grin, "See ya tomorrow?"

Akira nodded. The sooner we destroy Kamoshida's shadow, the better. Inside of him, something kind of… burst. A rush of elation rushed through him, though he couldn't place why he was feeling that way. Arsene merely chuckled within him, not offering explanation, and his persona seemed benign enough that it couldn't possibly be detrimental.

Smiling, he returned Ryuji's wave, only just now noticing it, and headed towards his part of the station.

The train back to Yongen-Jaya was quiet, interestingly enough, though the additional silence only filled his need to organize his thoughts, which almost resulted in him missing his stop. The alleyway leading to LeBlanc was quiet too, though that wasn't unusual from what he'd seen of it so far. He dragged his feet all the way from the station to the entrance of the café, trying to get as much time to think in as possible, though, he realized once he'd actually made it to the entrance, that he could be thinking while on the futon in Sakura-san's attic.

Speaking of…

Sakura-san, he'd noticed once he'd finally opened LeBlanc's heavy door, wasn't positioned by the counter as Akira had almost always seen him. Instead, the man was lounging in one of the barstools, staring down at a puzzle book, though he looked up when Akira entered.

"I take it you actually went to school today?" Sakura-san asked, pinning him down with a sharp gaze that he avoided by staring at the floor, he'd have a better chance of memorizing the tile pattern than looking his new caretaker in the eyes, not without immense discomfort, at least.

Akira nodded stiffly, making sure his eyes didn't have to leave the tiles surrounding his feet.

"Right…" The café owner said, not even attempting to keep his derision out of his tone, "Just remember, if you start causing any problems, you'll be out of here."

He nodded once more, only slightly annoyed of being reminded of his past decision, though there wasn't anything he could do about it, which seemed to be a theme in his life, unfortunately.

Except for Kamoshida…

"Ah," Sakura-san sighed out, "You've got dinner, which means I'm free to go. Try not to come back so damn late, I don't want to keep waiting on you to come back, understood?" Waiting for Akira's nod, which he provided very quickly at Sakura-san's tone, the older man took to his feet and heading towards the only door of LeBlanc.

"Don't forget to lock up." Was muttered loudly enough for him to hear before the door to the café was closing behind him.

He decided to handle Sakura-san's request first, flipping the sign to indicate the café was closed, ignoring how uncomfortable it would have been if he just woke up to strangers being in the downstairs of his bedroom. He shuddered at the idea and took caution to make double-sure that the door to the café was locked. Slowly, he made his way towards the small kitchen of LeBlanc and placed his leftovers inside an empty space of Sakura-san's fridge, which was utterly filled with what Sakura-san must use to craft his curry. Finally, he scuttled towards the stairs, the panel of light-switches right next to the staircase. Then he was free to linger inside of Sakura-san's attic for as long as he liked. He didn't linger long, though, not with exhaustion pulling down on his limbs the way it was. He, rather briefly, considered messaging Sakamato—Ryuji to warn him about any strange dreams with an old man and a pair of twins, but, somehow, he barely managed to throw off his glasses, collect a change of clothes and stumble downstairs, back to the entrance of Leblanc. Carelessly, he unlocked the door and slid into the streets of Yongen-Jaya. He took the effort to pretend that he was locking the door, for it would not bode well for him if Sakura-san's café was ruined while he was bathing.

Across the street, adjacent to Yongen's laundromat, was a bathhouse.

The fee was the toughest burden, though not as bank-breaking as he thought taking a bath in Tokyo would be. Small mercies, he supposed, walking past the attendant after a small bow. Said attendant ignored him in reply, making Akira wonder if he could have just walked by without paying, though that would most likely result in him being arrested and put in a high-security prison for crimes against humanity.

He smirked at his own joke, which was hidden from the other, though few, individuals who were also undressing around him. It was, very distinctly, an uncomfortable experience, one he wished to wash away from his mind. All at once, though, and against his conscious will, he started to miss home. Not his own home, exactly, but having an actual shower was nice. He missed the atmosphere, his few friends, the way he wasn't stared at like a trespasser as he did anything, including sinking into the communal waters of Yongen-Jaya's bathhouse.

Akira kept his head, firmly down, parallel to the fizzing water that was all but boiling the rest of his body. His attempt at discretion, however, was in vain as he felt more than saw a presence starting to linger beside him.

"You look like you've seen war, kid." A voice barked beside his ear, loud enough to ensnare the attention of the other people stewing in the hot water.

"Or fell down a mountain!" Another voice chimed in, a deep chuckle causing a small uproar of other kinds of laughter.

Akira tried to sink lower into the water. If I'd known there'd be this many people I wouldn't have come. Yongen-Jaya's population was deceitfully large if there were this many people taking a bath on a Tuesday.

Despite his efforts to remain secluded, even more men starting to drift towards him, asking him questions in varying tones, all of them leading, he supposed, to a rather direct question that seemed to quiet down the rest of the rowdy men that had somehow surrounded him.

"Where'd you get all those scars and bruises?" One asked, reaching across the pool to snatch at one of his wrists that had, until that point, been firmly crossed across his chest as a final line of defense. He tried to pull his arm away from the group of onlookers, only to meet with resistance similar to an iron vice, despite how soaked they all were, the man's grip was surprisingly firm. He didn't dare to raise his other arm, though, in a desperate attempt to draw some space, then he'd surely be arrested, all joking aside.

Finally, after the stunning effect being called out had on him, he managed a response, a simple shrug of his shoulders. Without being able to speak, this situation was going to be hard to talk his way out of, more so than his usual problems.

"Someone bullying you, kid?" The first person to drift over asked, his voice accusatory, though gentle, somehow.

A better opening could not have been handed to him! Quickly, he nodded his head, making sure to keep his expression ashamed, though it wasn't that difficult once the anger had subsided.

The men around him coddled him then, pitying him in a way, the ones that didn't view him as a criminal, that adults often did.

"I don't buy it!" The man who was still holding his wrist shouted, his grip tightening until Akira could feel each wave of pruned skin against his skin. "I mean, some of these look years old!" The man claimed, tugging on his arm painfully.

"C-chill, Touma, you're making the kid uncomfortable." Another said, reaching over to latch his hand onto the wrist that was coming close to crushing his arm.

The grip on his arm was released then, revealing a patch of purple… His heart dropped. Instantly, he recalled those… images of that girl. He climbed out of the pool, ignoring the protests of the men who weren't grilling him, and found a trashcan before he could ruin the bathhouse's flooring.

Akira escaped into the small locker room the place had to offer, quickly, he snatched up the basket that held his belongings and began drying off, the borrowed towel scratching painfully into his skin. Whether that betrayed its quality or how strong he was, he didn't know, didn't bother to know. His brain was in a frenzy at the moment and he just hoped he didn't vomit again.

Once he'd managed to cooldown some, he found himself able to put down the towel, his skin already completely dry and bright red. Once he felt another presence however, his guard was back up instantly, ignoring the fact that he was still quite naked. He turned quickly, and came face to face with a rather… female customer. Normally, he'd been embarrassed, humiliated even, instead, he just stared at her, wondering if she'd start asking questions like those men had.

"I didn't want to bother you with that crowd around," The woman began pleasantly enough, tilting her head to the side to reveal sharp brown eyes. "But some of your wounds look pretty bad, maybe you should head up to the Yongen Clinic? It's right up the street."

Akira's pondered her words, ignoring the fact that he was staring at a stranger while he was naked to wonder how large Yongen-Jay actually was to have its own hospital.

"You should head up now, though, I hear the doctor is pretty cranky when it gets late." She said, sounding rather bemused with herself before walking to the other side of the small room.

He was, simply put, relieved to leave the bathhouse. He couldn't recall ever being some humiliated in his entire life, and was thankful for the cool spring breeze that cooled the flames in his cheeks. Adjusting the bundle of clothes under his arm, Akira crossed the street and entered LeBlanc, which was still intact, allowing him to release a small sigh of relief, though not all of the tension managed to escape his body.

Some medicine would be good for dealing with Kamoshida's guards, he contemplated, ignoring the assuring hum of the shadows within him. But it was risky enough leaving the first time… His earlier perception that Yongen-Jaya was proving to be more and more false, which meant that someone could waltz into the café and vandalize it while he was gone. Still, his wrist was still hurting from earlier. Sighing, he walked back up the steps of LeBlanc, deposited his uniform onto one of the few hangers he owned and hung it from the ceiling. Next, though he really wished he could stop his body for a moment to consider the rationality of what he was about to do, he grabbed his cell phone and rushed down the steps of LeBlanc, managing to escape the building before he could consider whether or not the pain could wait until morning. Again, he pretended to lock the door to the café, and quickly strode of the street, trying his best not to look like someone who'd just fled their caretaker's café which they left unlocked because he didn't have a key, though he really wasn't sure what that looked like, so Akira settled for a rather passive expression while he stared at the walkway of Yongen.

The neon was a telltale sign of what he was looking for, the bright cross was also an indicator, though the building itself looked very little like a hospital. Carefully, he opened the door and observed the very small waiting room that housed all of three chairs, only to be interrupted by a voice calling out to him.

"Ah, there you are, I've been expecting you." Something about the statement made him distinctly uncomfortable, and when he turned around to face the counter of the small hospital, he found out why.

It's… the same person… He realized, taking in the same look that her dark eyes gave him, though he didn't fail to notice the cheeky grin that had enveloped her now colored lips.

"The doctor is waiting for you, head into the examination room." She said, shutting the panel that opened her desk to the rest of the room.

He, however briefly, considered leaving, but the supernatural burn he felt in his wrist and the aching in his head because of it caused him to disregard his instincts, something he hoped he wouldn't live to regret. Hoping to get this over with as quickly as possible, Akira strode across the small waiting area and tugged open the door to the examination room. The smell of chemicals was strong, but not unpleasant, much to his surprise. The room was smaller than the last, he noticed, barely housing all of the equipment stored inside. Settled into the limited seating of the examination room was the same woman from the bathhouse and the receptionist's desk not a moment ago. Fortunately, both of them were now dressed in actual clothing instead of towels. He understood now why the woman had been laughing earlier when she had mentioned the doctor, which turned out to be herself, was quite the grouch.

"Have a seat." She said, not offering any further pleasantries as she waved a hand towards a small bed.

Akira followed her instructions, hoping that this situation, however strange, wouldn't turn into disastrous.

Once he was seated, she scooted her chair closer until she was nearly hovering over him, "I didn't quite get a good look earlier, would you mind rolling up your sleeves?"

Akira hesitated, distinctly uncomfortable with the intensity of her gaze, however clinical she remained, but yielded quickly, knowing that it would be the fastest way to make his wrist stop aching as much as it was. Bashful, more than mortified, he rolled up the sleeves on his nightshirt, exposing his arms all the way up to his elbows, where the material of his shirt was currently bundled up. A thoughtful hum filled the cramped space between them as the woman observed his arms; Akira looked too, too fretful to look towards the doctor and too nervous not to keep her within his field of vision.

"Some of these look quite fresh." She murmured thoughtfully. Akira had the feeling her words weren't said to initiate a response. "And," She continued, wrapping her cold fingers around his arm like a snake, making him flinch slightly from the unexpected action, despite the fact that he'd seen it coming, "Some of them look quite old." Suddenly, Akira knew she was staring into his face, he could feel it like a physical presence and it was as cold, if not more so, than her hands. He didn't match the look like he had in the bathhouse.

She continued to gauge each of the wounds on his arm, "I have the feeling, if I ask, you're not going to tell where you got these." He grimaced, but shook his head; was he truly so easy to read?

"And are these the only ones?" He nodded silently, staring at the dark color of her nails as they whisked around the damaged skin.

"I don't think I believe you." She all but hissed, leaving Akira stunned, so much that his useless mouth dried up completely. "No refusal? You're a quiet one, hm?"

"Take off your shirt," She instructed firmly, "I need to confirm for your records."

Record? The fear of prison nearly overwhelmed him, rooting him in ways that this woman's sternness failed. He swallowed nervously, but did as instructed, wishing adults weren't so assertive, that they didn't hold so much power over a kid like him.

He stood there, holding his balled-up shirt between shaking hands.

Sounding bemused with his obvious nervousness, she continued relaying instructions, "Turn around."

Once he finally twisted around on the small bed, exposing his back to the woman, he heard a small gasp, which was immediately covered in a small coughing fit.

"Your…" She starts, trailing off quickly, like a candle being extinguished. Not for the first time, he wished he could talk, even for five minutes, to offer an explanation, to deny what he'd willingly exposed about himself to a complete stranger, doctor or not.

As if drawn to him, the woman's cold fingers began tracking down his spine, then spreading out to his shoulder blades, and despite the chill that the room held, he felt his face burn once more.

"These scars…" She says, using that ugly, ugly word, "Where did you get them?" She asked, despite knowing that he wouldn't answer.

One of her fingers trailed over a pattern of them, "I demand an answer, or I'll call the police." She demanded quietly, though it was still enough to make his entire body seize up. Quickly, he turned around on the small bed, facing her and actually looking at her, only to shake his head frantically.

She couldn't do this! His mind screamed, a complete contrast to what he was expressing.

The doctor stared back at him, clearly unimpressed, then reached back, towards a desk, only to grab a wireless phone. Clearly, no amount of silent pleading would change her mind, still he had to try.

Once she began dialing, Akira quickly changed tactics, tugging his own phone from his pockets and frantically typing, hoping to get something out before she actually called the police on him!

I shouldn't have come here! His brain chided while his fingers dashed across the screen.

Please don't call the police! Quickly, he shoved the text in her face, and the action seemed to startle the woman enough that she actually dropped the phone!

Thank god…

"You're—you don't speak?" She asked, clearing her throat, gazing at him curiously, like she might start prodding at him.

He nodded quickly and frantically in response.

She tapped her chin with a painted nail, "I want you to tell me where you got those scars then, and you better not lie, I'll know." She cautioned, reaching down to reach the wireless phone.

"How bad could the truth be?" Arsene hummed quietly from within him, making him regret leaving LeBlanc all over again.

He sat there, panicking, under the look of the mystery doctor, while she sighed impatiently.

Finally, though, after much deliberation, knowing that if he made a run for it, he wouldn't be able to escape, and even if he did, police would be all over Yongen-Jaya looking for a stupid kid. Adults had, once again, put him in an unwinnable situation.

Don't tell anyone. He typed instead.

She stared at him from around his phone after reading it, "Patient Confidentiality." She promised, losing the intense look she had been pinning him with once it became apparent that he was giving in. He had lost the will to fight an unwinnable battle.

My parents did this to me. Akira read over his statement several times, wishing the words weren't true. He also wished that tears weren't threatening to trail down his face, but he couldn't help that either.

The doctor stared, and stared, and stared at his confession. After minutes of holding up his phone to the woman, his arm finally gave out, and he lowered it, placing it on the bed beside him.

Now knowing what she does, Akira wasn't surprised that, when he looked up, the doctor's entire face was overwhelmed in a pitying look.

He averted his gaze, as he often does in situations like this one.

"And your weight?" She asks eventually, reaching around his folded up legs to grab at his hips.

He flinched, wishing he would just die, right then and there.

Insistently, she pushed her phone into his hands, and he had already said too much already, what was a little more.

A useless mouth doesn't need to eat. He admitted, causing not only the doctor to gasp, but also Arsene.

The doctor's face took on a sickly pallor, looking almost translucent under the bright lights of the examination room, though Akira couldn't see her face clearly for long, as big globs of liquid look place in front of his eyes, only to quickly course down his twitching cheeks and neck.

"I think I should call someone… clearly your parents shouldn't have kids if they're treating their own like this." The doctor said numbly, as she began typing on the phone, only for Akira to finally do something by slapping it out of her hand, sending the clunky plastic sliding across the floor.

Don't! He pleaded once more, only to be met with a look of complete and utter confusion.

I'm not living with them. Her arms quickly folded over her chest.

"Then where are you living? Not on the streets, surely?" She pressed with a narrowing over her eyes, she looked furious, he just hoped it wasn't at him, though that was bound to be the case.

I live with a caretaker while I'm under probation. He explained, feeling stupid for mentioning his probation unnecessarily, even while under intense scrutiny and emotional turmoil.

As long as she doesn't call the police… He prays, knowing that he couldn't continue to slap the phone out of her hand indefinitely.

"Probation?" She asks, staring him up and down as if he'd grown a new limb, "N-never mind, that's not any of my business…" She stutters, reaching behind her once more, while Akira stares at her, feeling like a caged animal about to face slaughter; but instead of another phone, or even a weapon, Akira is bewildered to see as the doctor tugs a clipboard out from under a stack of papers, sets in her lap, and begins to write.

Minutes pass before she finally stops writing, in that time Akira finally managed to calm down, slightly, at least, which was better than nothing.

"I'm… going to give you these medicines." She says, handing over the sheet of paper she'd been writing on, "They should help you recover your weight and heal those scars." He nods, confused, as he reads through the small list of items he's never heard of, only to realize he has no money to actually pay for the prescriptions she's piling on her desk, and then dumping into his arms after he's pulled his shirt back on.

Finally, she releases him, and takes the liberty of walking him to the door of the small hospital, though he can't deduce another reason besides pity.

"Come by again next week, so I can make a progress report." Akira finds himself nodding along to what she says as she ushers him out of the building.

Before he turns to finally escape the terror that is the nightlife of Yongen, he turns back to the mystery doctor and bows deeply, careful not to drop any of the medicine.

It's only when he's finally behind the locked door of LeBlanc, the café fortunately untouched, that he realized that he didn't actually pay for any of the medicine that she'd given him.

Maybe she felt bad… He wondered, examining the labels on each of the jars in the safety of LeBlanc's attic.

Suddenly, though, Akira finds himself exhausted, the adrenaline and terror that had been keeping him conscious finally weaning into nothing now that he's under LeBlanc's roof. He wonders if every day in Tokyo would be like this, where he's feeling good for once, where he's actually doing something to help someone, only to crash hard, to have his past brought up in the most painful of ways to the point where he's crying like a child while he begs a stranger not to call the police.

He certainly hoped not.