Chapter 8
For the second time since he'd started going to Shujin, classes had ended early. Ordinarily, he would be thankful, even more so when there was no readings assigned, yet Akira felt nothing, actual nothing, as he made his way to the station; being ushered quickly by the stampede of police and faculty. He didn't even get a chance to message Sakamoto about meeting up before he was practically thrown on the train headed towards Yongen-Jaya.
Sakura-san's face was grim, more so than usual, when he set foot in the café several hours before he was expected back.
Obviously, he heard the news.
Suzui Shiho had thrown herself off of Shujin Academy.
He hadn't saved her, like he'd been intending to do with the stack of calling cards in Sakamoto's possession. Instead, he settled on the mattress in the corner of LeBlanc's attic and couldn't find the strength to stand again, like a bug trapped in honey. Though, it wasn't like he put much effort into actually moving. He lingered, like a bad smell, waiting to be fanned out.
There was no escape to be found in sleep, either. Each time his eyelids drooped into black, it was like clicking on a slideshow of his own failures. Kamoshida's secret chamber, each image of Suzui, naked or barely dressed, exposing more and more bruises.
He'd barely noticed them as she was hurtling through the air.
What was she thinking? Akira couldn't help but wonder. Each instance of flight replayed in his head endlessly.
What did it feel like?
Did she feel free?
Something about her suicide opened these thoughts to him. There were times, undoubtedly many, where he'd considered the same fate.
Crawling towards the edge and casting himself off. A ship to sea.
Would he look as graceful as Suzui did?
He doubted it.
"Hmm-hmm." Came from his left, the clearing of a gravely throat.
Sakura-san.
He twisted his neck, and his eyes finally began to see again.
The older man wasn't fidgeting, but there was something different, softer, about his stern gaze when it landed on him. Sakura-san extended his arm towards him and Akira's body didn't lurch away, didn't attempt to gain distance that wasn't there. He was too exhausted, too empty. His hand didn't reach for the plate, he had forgotten how to move his limb, it seemed. If it had been another school day, he had a feeling that Sakura-san would have yelled at him for being so slow, but today was a different occasion. Someone had thrown themselves off of a roof because he'd been too slow, too indecisive. Bruised, polite Suzui, a girl he didn't know but had seen without clothes, had decided that her life wasn't worth living. His caretaker took the necessary steps to stand right against the lip of the mattress, and sat down a plate next to him. Both curry and rice were steaming wispily in the strange draft of LeBlanc's attic. His nose refused to smell anything but the ashy inhale of Kamoshida's castle.
"You looked like you needed that." Sakura-san said, tugging at his beard with one hand, the other firmly planted in his pocket. "It… must be hard losing a classmate."
His caretaker, for once, didn't seem upset with his lack of verbal response. Instead, the older male nodded, once, then turned on his heel and escaped from the atmosphere the café's attic seemed to swim in.
Resting his head on his folded arms, Akira stared at the offered meal, observed its glistening texture and steam until it turned cold and congealed.
For the first time since he had arrived, Sakura-san closed the café before the sun went down. The bustle of the few customers he'd slinked past before he found himself becoming a vegetable long since turned into a deafening silence.
When the sun did set though, it was too difficult to stare at his uneaten meal without straining his eyes. Instead, Akira turned his head towards the wall and stared at the wooden panels with unseeing, unfocused eyes. At the moment, all that encompassed his world was a blur of brown, which was quickly turning black as more and more time passed.
His phone buzzed.
Twice.
Three times.
Then a few more.
He didn't move. Could not exert enough effort to reach into the pocket of his uniform and pull out the device. Even the brief and drifting idea of reading had made him indefinitely more exhausted than he already was. Despite the state his mind was in- frazzled beyond recognition, unable to process anything more than a moment before going incredibly, irrevocably blank once again. It was almost laughable, really; almost amusing that he was the one lying like corpse when he wasn't the one who had decided to end it all.
Why did she jump?
As bruised as she was, for as long as she was. Why now? Countless things could have spurred such a reaction. Suzui seemed stable enough when he had bumped into her; meek but polite, nice even. Nice to him, a criminal. It was unprecedented, especially considering the rumors that were constantly circulating about his background or dirty secrets. For someone to be pleasant to him, after being exposed to the limitless stream of labels assigned to him. It spoke volumes about who Suzui Shiho was as a person. As a byproduct, it also revealed to him, like a magnificent beacon, the true nature of Kamoshida, as well as Shujin Academy; things were corrupt within the school. The adults in charge of protecting students had failed that day. Failed to protect the sanctity of a life. Suzui's life was traded for a reputation that was deemed more important. All because of volleyball, all because of Kamoshida.
"Doesn't he deserve to die?" His brain tingled, it had felt like an eternity since Arsene had bothered speaking to him.
He didn't have an answer to Arsene's question, the question only served to raise his own inquisition, his own morbid curiosity that he didn't know he even had.
Did a life constitute a life? When the time came could he actually do it? Could he rip Kamoshida's desires, all of them, away from him and leave him as a husk of a person? The decision would answer his earlier question, though. However, there were more pressing matters, though. Would it be acceptable to send the calling card so soon after a major incident? Would someone know that he and Sakamoto had planned an attack or would it seem like a random vendetta?
He should confer with Sakamoto, it was his choice too, after all; he doubted Morgana would care if the man died or lived or just stopped breathing due to their actions.
"Hey dude…"
"That was… terrible."
"We could have stopped this dammit!"
"Dude!"
"She's alive!"
That was startling. In a good way, of course. Her condition, from what little he had seen from the second story window, was disturbing to think about.
"I don't care what happens to that ASSHOLE now, we have to beat his ass!"
Sakamoto's input was what he'd expected, to be honest. The blond had a blatant vendetta against Kamoshida even before they had discovered his castle. Akira couldn't help but agree with Sakamoto's sentiments, aside from the excessive cursing.
"You still want to send the calling card tomorrow?" He had to make sure, he had to eliminate all doubts. If they were going to stoop to Kamoshida's level—though was it really stooping if they didn't leave him an option but to die, then they needed to act as a team, to push with one will until they pierced through the wall that was Kamoshida. Though, he had to admit, it did seem callous of them to just continue with their plans right after someone had committed—attempted suicide.
"Let's pull this off"
"Ryuji seems excited."
Akira jumped.
Morgana has somehow crawled beside him and was, apparently, reading their correspondence. In the dim evening light, he could barely make out the outline of Morgana's blue eyes crinkled in mischief. Not something he was a fan of, if he were being honest.
"Tomorrow's the big day, huh?" The cat asked calmly, but despite the tone, Akira could hear his tail whipping around wildly.
Akira nodded, unsure if Morgana could even see the motion in the dark.
"We should probably rest up then, it's going to be unlike anything we've dealt with so far. Who knows what kind of form Kamoshida will take when we approach him…" Morgana advised.
He could rest.
It was difficult, to know what was to come when he woke up; he also found it difficult to even lose himself in sleep, constantly picturing himself in Suzui's place as she fell. His body jolted him awake several times, his muscles tensing in apprehension in a descent that never finished.
His slumber was not ideal, but it was sufficient enough, at least for today. Adrenaline surged through him as soon as his alarm went off. His body circulated thousands of signals underneath his skin, all saying one thing: it's time.
Sakamoto messaged him soon after he escaped from the warmth of Morgana's residual heat.
"I could barely sleep last night, I'm so amped up!"
As was becoming more frequent the more he exchanged texts with Sakamoto, the more he became confused as to what the blond was saying, and how to respond to these sentiments. He was rather out of his element when it came to communicating with people his own age, even over technology, where he was on an even field instead of at a disadvantage. The, plainly put, liberating feeling that came along without feeling like an awkward attachment to a conversation was lost when he traded IDs with Sakamoto. Sure, he didn't have to pull out his board and write out a reply in a short amount of time.
He didn't respond, he took that time towards his appearance, trying to quell down the mess that was his hair, somehow both dry and greasy, but overall a gigantic mess. Akira took very meticulous care of his appearance, making sure to look well-presenting, as all Shujin Academy students were expected to be, but also trying to maintain an essence of nonchalance, to look like he was, in fact, full of righteous energy and exerting it wildly as he dressed himself to look casual. Overall, he looked about the same, still short, still with a messy tangle of black hair, but with very large, mostly fashionable glasses that distracted people from looking at his hair. He hoped that was the case, anyway. There was also the matter of dusting cat hair off of his uniform, which only served to mix the locations of the gleaming threads around instead of removing them; he'd made an attempt at least, nobody could deny that. He washed his face too aggressively, however, to make up for his slight failure with the uniform and ended up with an entirely pink face, only magnifying the effect under the lenses of his glasses. Overall, in his attempt to appear nonchalant, he ended up looking very, very noticeable.
Sakura-san winced visibly once he walked past the bar, but remained silent, the kindness from the day before still in effect, at least enough to not comment on his appearance, as well as offer him another plate of food. Akira kept his face carefully blank as he realized that neither he nor Morgana had actually touched the plate from the night before.
He sat at the bar, on the far seat, and just close enough to Sakura-san that it didn't seem too weird, but also not far away enough that he was suspicious or ungrateful looking. A well-maintained, benign distance.
Morgana scampered into his lap, clawing and dragging at the pants of his uniform in an attempt to be covert. This also did not show on his face. He had to admit, however, that the warm weight upon his lap was fairly pleasant, though also very strange, considering Morgana had the mind of a human while in the body of a cat. It was an unsettling thought; knowing that if his lap was uncomfortable, Morgana could not only feel it, but also inform him of such things.
The cat sighed.
Akira pretended not to notice the sound of three people breathing in an empty café when there were only meant to be two of them, it seemed Sakura-san was doing very much the same as he fiddle with a book of crossword puzzles.
He tended to his plate, another large, steaming portion of curry and rice. Still hesitant to eat, especially with a sentient mind in his lap, as well as across the counter, he took slow bites, his gaze flicking from Morgana and Sakura-san in random intervals. Things remained calm, though, despite the chills that raced down his back.
After cleaning his plate, he had deemed it time to go, and grabbed the bag that Morgana was supposed to be in already, and shoved his teammate in there as gingerly, yet quickly, as possible and headed towards the door.
Flipping the café's sign, he started to make paces towards the bus station, still attempting to be both casual yet covert; inconspicuous. As a teenager, criminal record or not, it should be easy enough to blend in, yet whenever someone's eyes rove over him, he can't help but feel each hair on the back of neck tense up anxiously, like they might call him out any moment. He knew it was improbable though, very few people talked on the trains in Tokyo—the quiet deathtraps that they were, nor did he have the stack of calling cards on him; he can't imagine the kind of pressure that Sakamoto must be feeling at the moment or on his trek to school.
A lot. He figures.
By the time he makes it to Shujin Academy, Akira is fairly certain he is going to have a mental breakdown, or something similar at least. The pressure casting his shoulders into a slump, the buckets of sweat that are leaking from every pore on his body are enough to make him reconsider. He can't back out now, though.
The first thing he sees when he walks through the gleaming glass doors of Shujin Academy is red. So much red. Streamers of crimson send his heart, and his mind, racing while the world around him seems to slow to a frozen halt. The whispers are moving like packs of fish in different streams, but every tail end of conversation that manages to drift into his ear is nearly identical; each spoken in sullen, surprised whispers. The gossip is forbidden rapture upon a devout group of followers, however, he's not sure if the inkling of rebellion is enough for everyone. Their fear is almost a thick cloud that floats around everyone in the hallway. The students are scared, terrified of the truth or Kamoshida; probably both. The faculty, from what he can see, are ignoring the situation as it is. The walls remain coated in blood and he can't help but wonder just how many copies that Sakamoto made of the calling card for them to be everywhere.
Speaking of.
Sir Kamoshida Suguru, the utter bastard of lust,
We know how shitty you are, and that you put
your distorted desires on students who can't fight back
That's why we have decided to steal away your desires
And make you confess your sins.
From,
The Phantom Thieves of Hearts
The calling card was all but signed by Sakamoto, he could practically hear each word spewing from the blond's mouth as it was printed off.
"Hmm." Morgana hummed, his head wiggling between the straps of the bag to take in Sakamoto's work, "It's a bit sloppy… but people are already in a panic, so it'll have to do."
Akira shrugged, he thought it sounded pretty cool, though the logo was a bit strange; a pair of creepy eyes under a top hat with a massive, shark-toothed grin. Graffiti-styled text wrapped under the cocky grin, take your heart. Again, it felt very Sakamoto. He just hoped that nobody else caught onto such minute details. Though there seemed to be very few, if any, students that really seemed like they were capable of such a bold act of rebellion.
"Who's responsible for this?" Someone hollered over the deafening roar of the student body.
The entrance hall silenced instantly.
All at once, he was thrown back into Kamoshida's castle, into the entrance hall where Sakamoto had awakened to his persona. The swell of people, the blinding light, the intense furrowing of Kamoshida's brow.
If possible, his already racing heart went into overdrive, and the need to escape was like a drug he was addicted to. Quickly, he pushed through the throng of students, who may as well have been statues before the intense, predatory gaze that Kamoshida was firing across the hallway. Bpdy after body, he was able to find a clearing, and finally the bathroom. Breathing too hard to be healthy, he barged into the boy's room, ignoring the way it went too silent after he all but stumbled through the door like a rabid animal. After a moment, most likely realizing who it was that had startled them, the bathroom cleared out with the squeaking of leather on heavily waxed floors. His vision was nearly swimming by the time he managed to lock himself in one of the stalls, his breathing coming out in quick, labored pants.
Akira was going to die.
The sudden, hard-hitting feeling of having his chest compressed more than his body was already squeezing itself was enough to drop his jaw, and attempt at screaming. Nothing came out but a mere gurgling sound, which was quickly interrupted by the need to breathe, his body refusing to slow to the average draw of breathe.
"Joker!" Morgana shrieked from just below him, the pressure against his chest. Through the convulsions of his spine, he managed to glance down eventually, and spotted two nearly glowing eyes. Morgana's irises were shot out of proportion, looking wider than he had ever seen them before. Morgana's jaw kept upending and closing, but Akira couldn't hear anything past the pounding rhythm between his ears and the hammer thrashing at each of his ribs.
"Joker," He eventually heard, "What is wrong with you?!" More pushing, more prickled paws kneading at his constricted chest.
"You need to calm down!" Morgana pleaded, not sounding calm himself in the slightest.
Calm down!
"What the hell is going on?" Arsene's voice echoed between his ears, sending chills down his cramping back, Akira shuddered. "You cannot fulfill our contract if you are weak! Get a hold of yourself, you fool!"
Despite the condescension, Akira found himself reacting to Arsene's voice from within him, just enough to find a foothold on controlling his own body. Slowly, sensation started to seep back into him, as if his own life-force were being poured back into his own body. The burning in his lungs was the first perception he was opened to, like an inferno from within, baking his insides. The next thing to return was his vision, a combination of his eyes squeezing shut and the lack of oxygen, though it was undeniably blurry he wasn't able to feel the wetness on his cheeks for another long moment. The last thing to go was the aching in his chest, which left a cold numbness that surrounded his entire body, leaving him completely limp and lethargic aside from his hands, which refused to unlatch from the clumps of heated fur they had clamped onto. He supposed he should feel bad for Morgana, for putting his teammate through this, yet he couldn't find it within himself to push away from the void that had managed to put him in a state of ease. A far stretch from the distressed breakdown he nearly had inside of a mostly public restroom.
"Joker?" Morgana voiced, more hesitant than anything.
Akira felt like crap, and that feeling didn't sway when he finally managed to release the vice he'd created on Morgana's stretchy flesh, practically binding the two of them together.
His return to clarity must have shown on his face, as Morgana continued speaking to him, still in the same tone as before; unsure, confused, maybe even a little scared, but definitely unnerved. "W-what happened to you? You were breathing all funny—it looked like you were going to pass out or something…" Not fully governing control over his body, especially his fine motor skills, Akira decided not to pull out his phone to give a detailed answer, though he wasn't too sure what had happened to him either, or why it was Arsene who was able to pull him out of such a state. Instead, he just shrugged, offering his teammate a kind smile, or at least he hoped it looked kind.
Morgana did not look placated, but didn't press for answers. The cat allowed himself to be put back inside of the bag and Akira allowed himself to give a few pats atop of Morgana's head.
Now they just had to make it through the rest of the day, and the treasure would be theirs.
When he walked into class, people stared, which still unnerved him, but there was something distinctly different about the looks he received today, or rather the lack of looks. Instead of being scanned with every set of available eyes within his homeroom, only a few stared. Today though, some of the kids eyed each other with suspicion that had been, until recently, reserved for him alone. It was odd.
The calling card must have put everyone on edge.
Whispers of Kamoshida flew across the room, accusations piercing the tranquility that Shujin Academy was desperate to keep.
Suzui's suicide attempt had clearly opened some doors, as well, though no one dared to mention her.
Lessons moved both far too quickly, and far too slowly, each hour that passed felt like more than double that; by the time the clock even began to approach the end of the school day, Akira's nerves were already fried again. Fortunately, he didn't have another instance where he had to excuse himself to the restroom. It seemed that he wasn't the only one feeling the ominous pressure the calling card had sparked to life. Countless legs and pencils were bouncing anxiously as the teachers tried their best to ignore whatever situation was clearly unravelling all of them; whether it was Suzui's fall or Kamoshida's outrage, everyone had a reason to be nervous.
As soon as the last lesson started, Sakamoto messaged him.
"By the gates, let's get this bastard"
"Okay."
Akira allowed himself to zone out for the entire period, he was feeling lucky not to have been called on, though if he had, he doubted he would have noticed.
The bell rang.
For once, he was one of the first people to escape the classroom, only to bump into yet another person.
Rubbing at his head, he considered his misfortune, as well as the icy spike of nostalgia that rattled up his spine. The last time he had bumped into someone, it had been Suzui, which was his only actual interaction with the girl, aside from watching her attempt to end her own life. Knowing that it would be nearly, if not completely impossible, he looked up, unable to quell the small ounce of hope that managed to overwhelm him.
It wasn't Suzui, that much was obvious.
The person he had ran into towered over him, with broad, muscled shoulders and a frown filled with contempt.
"Not so fast, Kurusu-kun," Kamoshida greeted, his friendly façade visibly cracking with each word. "Why don't we talk in my office?" A smile, a dangerous, knife-like smile cracked between Kamoshida's lips. The same expression he wore in the Metaverse.
Knowing he wasn't in a position to decline, Akira merely shrugged his shoulders and found himself unable to continue to look at Kamoshida's face any longer. The man was clearly unhinged by the endless rumors that had spawned in just one day; highly-guarded secrets that were now being put in the open.
Kamoshida spun on one of his over-muscled legs and began walking. Students moved out of the man's way without looking at him directly, like how one might evade a wild animal. It put Kamoshida off, that much Akira could tell, though in reality, he doubted anything had actually changed; people still feared him.
Kamoshida's office was a mixture of a locker room and the remnants of an office. Mesh bags of volleyballs made small mountains across the floor and poured off the tops of some shelving. Equally large stacks of papers and folders were scattered around the flat surfaces of the room, which was shared with countless, gleaming trophies, medals, and plaques that produced a warm glow due to the dim lighting. Together, the room was both welcoming and foreboding. Though the latter could be deduced to who was in the office, rather than what.
"Close the door." The man ordered in a tone that was all too familiar.
Akira complied, nudging the barrier shut with his foot, unable to turn his back to Kamoshida. The bright gleam from the corridor's hallways melted into the darkened floorboards as the door slid shut. Once it nudged into place, a chill seemed to sweep over the room; the chatter of the hallway seemed to phase out, sizzling into nothing like a flame suddenly extinguished.
"That wasn't very nice, what you two did, you know." Kamoshida's voice shot across the room now that it was just the two of them, like physical blows that threatened to send him into another spell of hyperventilating.
"Hey, are you listening!" Was all but shouted when seconds ticked by without a response. Kamoshida, who had been leaning against desk, straightened up and was, once again, a towering mass of arrogance and muscle.
Akira nodded, doing his best at subtlety as he skidded backwards, attempting to maintain the distance that Kamoshida was now trying to close.
"I bet you think you're so clever, don't you?" He hadn't been able to draw up the conviction to look directly at Kamoshida and didn't see it coming when his head was suddenly jerked to the side, a thunderous pain spreading through his cheekbone. Underneath him, Morgana gasped loudly; Akira had forgotten he was present. It only added to the humiliation that was quickly freezing his body.
The position of his face was quickly reset back to facing forward with a firm, unjust grip.
"Coming in here, in my school and spreading those rumors, those lies!" Again, his head was flung to the side with unpredictable force, the friction sparking fires under every layer of skin. His head began to throb painfully.
Again, Kamoshida took a grip on his face, angling his face forward until he could catch glimpses of the man's chest heaving in rage.
"Little shits like you think you can just walk over anything, huh? Anyone?" Another hard smack; another grip wrenching his skull back into place. "This is my place! You're just shit under my shoes, you know that?!"
"I should expel you for this…" His heart stuttered as the words took on meaning; Kamoshida cackled loudly, "Actually, I think I will…"
Another, burning whack crackled across his cheek finally sent him topping to the ground, only held up with by his body colliding with the corner.
"Get out of here." Kamoshida warned, "Your days are numbered here, scum."
The man, as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened—and Akira supposed, they hadn't, whirled himself around, and took a seat at his desk, not even sparing him another look.
Numb, Akira took his offered retreat, tumbling out of Kamoshida's office and down the stairs. His cheek was flaring in pain, but there was a deep-set ache that pulsed over his entire body.
Sakamoto was lingering by the gates, as promised. The blond's head instantly perked up as he made his towards him, as if sensing that he was approaching.
"D-dude, what the hell!" The blond growled out, latching onto the crux of his forearm to pull him even closer when Akira refused to continue. Brown eyes were glued onto his burning flesh while he made a long observation of the grass they were currently crushing.
"What the fuck happened?" Sakamoto ordered.
He remained silent, toeing at the perfectly sculpted grass until it looked a little less orderly. It's not like it mattered anyway.
"Dude!" His teammate barked out explosively, the grip on his arm now squeezing uncomfortably.
"It was Kamoshida…" Morgana offered, revealing his presence once again. Akira cringed. "That bastard called Joker into his office and then went completely crazy!" Sakamoto growled, rumbling like a rather ferocious animal, a ferocious animal in a graphic-tee and sneakers.
"Goddammit!" The grip on his arm was released and Akira watched, only for a moment, as Sakamoto started marching towards the entrance of the school before he decided to restrain the other teen.
"What the hell, man!" Sakamoto snapped, tugging at his arm, "We gotta make that stupid asshole pay for that!"
With much difficulty, he managed to pull his cellphone out from underneath Morgana and begin typing, all the while keeping a firm enough grip on Sakamoto so he didn't escape; a very arduous task.
"Doesn't matter if we change his heart"
It was sound enough logic. It seemed sufficient for Sakamoto as well, as the man's muscles deflated under his grip and he deemed it safe enough for him to release his teammate without fear of getting them both expelled.
With the fight visibly drained from his teammate, he took the liberty of leading the blond away from the campus and down the road, towards the alley where this had all started, and where it all would soon end. Thing would be normal after today, he was sure of it.
"H-hey!" Someone yelled from across the street, just as Sakamoto activated the MetaNav, sending them spiraling away from the noisy streets of Tokyo.
"W-what the—" The same voice from before gasped, making Akira's head finally cock around and send a blasting pain to travel up his face in doing so.
Just a meter away stood Takamaki, looking terrified beyond belief, the expression completely evident on her foreign features. The darkened sky did nothing but add to the expression.
"What is this place?" She questioned, looking between him and Sakamoto.
"W-woah, A—Takamaki?" His companion inquired, finally taking notice of the person who seemed to have followed them in.
"You know this girl?" Morgana asked from below, weaving in between them to walk closer to Takamaki.
"M-m-monster cat?" The girl cried out, followed by a short shriek of terror. Morgana visibly deflated, looking rather downtrodden.
"Wait, that voice; Ryuji?" Beside him, Sakamoto visibly flinched, the visible part of his face curled up in an aggressive cringe.
"How the hell did you get in here?" He snapped in place of an answer as he crossed his arms across his chest.
Takamaki mimicked the action, "I could ask you the same question; what is this place, what's with that castle?" She retorted with equal vigor. Akira held back a sigh, did they really have time for this? Technically, the answer was yes.
Sakamoto sighed, "Just get out of here, Takamaki."
"Not until you tell me what's going on, Sakamoto!" She retorted, now raising a fist as if she might punch one of them.
Sakamoto stepped forward, growling once again.
Akira stood there, slightly stunned, as he watched his teammate all but manhandle his classmate out of the Metaverse, a strange sight indeed. Soon the blonde was warped away in a swirl of black and red and Sakamoto was left there, panting, with one more scratch on his cheek than he'd had before.
His teammate turned back to him, "Ya coulda helped, you know." The muttered bitterly. Akira nodded, hesitantly, not really sure how to respond to that.
"Ryuji," Morgana called, still in the same place where he'd shut down from Takamaki's insult, "Who was that beautiful girl?" Akira grimaced; of course Morgana would be distracted by that, today of all days.
"Doesn't matter." Skull grunted back, thrusting his yellow-clad hands into the midnight folds of his disguise and leading the way towards Kamoshida's castle.
The closer they were to the massive structure, the thicker the atmosphere seemed to get. Screams of the torture called out in lashing gales. By the time they approached their entry point, he could practically feel Kamoshida's rage calling out to him, a burning anger that seemed to burn the air, leaving a thick, acrid fog to settle over the castle's grounds. Still, they could not step backwards.
They avoided the guards in places where they could, and destroyed those where they couldn't; today, they were not here to train their bodies or their personas, they were here to put an end to the madness behind their lives.
The treasure took the shape of a very, very large, and shiny, crown, complete with all sorts of jewels that he'd have no luck in naming. The jewelry piece was far too big to fit on anyone's head, even Kamoshida's, yet Morgana had insisted, quite fervently, that this was the piece that they were looking for, the fruits of the calling card finally revealed.
They'd barely managed to lift the obnoxiously large crown before an ear-piercing scream caused the three of them to jump in place. The gold ring clattered the few inches to the floor in a loud clang, easily giving away their position to those who dared to listen.
The scream went off again, only now forming words, "What the hell! Get off of me, you creep!" Shrieked loud enough that they echoed on the walls hiding them.
Akira's stomach dropped from where it had been pinched up in fear.
"Takamaki!" Sakamoto yelled, before leaping away from the treasure and out of the room, his boots stomping obnoxiously on the ground; stealth was clearly not on his teammate's mind at the moment.
How did she get back in? He considered as he dashed after the blond, Morgana practically on his heels.
"The treasure is the other way!" Morgana whined, but almost refused to detach himself from Akira's hip as they followed the trails of sparks Sakamoto left behind as he soared into the throne room that guarded the treasure they were supposed to be stealing at this very moment.
"Takamaki!" Sakamoto roared from just in front of them. The blond was bent over the sculpted marble railing that wrapped around the perimeter of the room, looking down on the floor just below, where the actual throne of the throne room was held. Just beside said throne. Following Sakamoto's line of sight, Akira leaned over the railing and caught an eyeful of what was most definitely Takamaki's hair topping off a screaming mouth and restrained limbs.
"Ryuji!" She managed to scream over the large distance between them, her gaze, though Akira could not see her eyes, looked up to where they were, though Akira found his attention drawn to the figures beside the captured girl.
A near carbon-copy of the girl who sat in front of him was practically nude, and draping herself over the equally as undressed Kamoshida, who he only identified by what little he was wearing. Numerous guards formed a semi-circle around the display, all with gleaming, extravagant blades that wept for death.
"Let he go, you fucking bastard!" Ryuji screamed from above, looking like he might make take the risk of jumping from the rafters instead of taking the stairs.
"Sakamoto, and you!" Kamoshida hissed, his golden eyes shining like two candles in the dimness of the throne room. "I told you if you returned here, I would kill you both, didn't I, and now you've brought a third!" He exclaimed, stepping forward to take another look at the new trespasser. Akira took the distraction to move towards the stairs on the far end of the room, allowing him to close the distance between him and Kamoshida, Sakamoto and Morgana were quick to follow, spreading out enough to start closing in on Kamoshida and his entourage.
"What the hell, Kamoshida!" Takamaki screamed, now that they were closer, Akira could clearly see the distress in the lines of his classmate's face, the tightening of her brow and lips between each outburst. Kamoshida's hand lashed out, his fingers, like talons, finding purchase in the fleshy parts of Takamaki's chin and gripping hard. A sight he hadn't seen, yet could feel the phantom sensations of.
Kamoshida cackled, "Did you really think you'd be able to take it?" He inquired, the question clearly pointed at all of them, though his attention was obviously focused solely on Takamaki now.
Clearly, the man hadn't expected a response, as he began shouting before they'd had a chance to collect their wits, "Execute the girl! Then deal with those two!" He ordered, jerking his hand in their direction.
Kamoshida moved aside, towards the clone of Takamaki, who giggled benignly as large, bare arms encircled her. A guard took the place that the man had previously occupied, a shimmering longsword held firmly in his grasp, which was quickly tucked above the cleft of Takamaki's bust. The blonde increased her efforts in escaping the manacles that held her firmly to a large piece of metal that seemed to have sprouted from the ground. Without hesitation, Sakamoto surged forward, screaming in outrage at the order, but was quickly intercepted by two of the other guards who had been doing nothing but taking up space.
Takamaki continued to scream.
Akira watched, rather numbly, as the obnoxiously large blade seemed to slice gracefully across the exposed canvas of Takamaki's body. How something so large could create such a precise mark, a paper thin slice that spanned across her chest horizontally, he would never know. What he did know, had cognizance over, however, was that they were all going to die if he did nothing.
Arsene's wings gasped out a powerful gale the swept his hair up in a frenzy as he was unleashed, the rattling of chains soon followed and his persona, the other part of him, lashed out at the two guards attempting to restrain his teammate. Black essence swallowing them up, drowning them in hatred and then disintegrating them, turning them into nothing but ashes.
Free of conflict, Sakamoto was allowed to holler out again, "Ann! Think of Shiho, it was this fucktard that did it to her!" He belted out, Captain Kidd manifesting behind him in a grim shadow of yellow light, the pirate's face strobing into detail as bolts of lightning shot across the room, electrifying the shadow that was attempting to carve the blonde up.
"No! That was your own fault, you bitch!" Kamoshida roared back, stepping between the three of them. The man seemed to sizzle before them, dark wisps of something itching out from underneath his skin as the look in his eyes went from sickening yellow to something far brighter.
"Fuck you!" Sakamoto screamed, aiming a finger towards the deranged king and firing off even more lightning, sending blinding waves of light throughout the room.
One by one, the other guards in the room shattered into nothing, leaving only Kamoshida as adversaries for the three of them, and only Takamaki as liability lest they fail.
"You fucking kids!" Kamoshida shouted, even more tar oozing from his body now, "This is my castle! I'm the king! Me!" He crooned as he fell onto his knees, though Akira knew it wasn't pain that caused the display.
The oozing evolved until it dripping from each part of Kamoshida's body in thick pustules, the splattered noisily as they slapped onto the floor around Kamoshida's feet, but did not spread beyond the man, forming a shiny black circle that continued to grow in height until Kamoshida's bare feet were no longer visible. With a final, deafening scream, Kamoshida thrust an arm out, not towards them nor at Takamaki and Akira almost had time to be confused before the massive, shiny ring of Kamoshida's crown burst into the room and levitated onto his oozing head. The reaction was even more splattering of dark ooze and smoke as Kamoshida's body expanded and exploded into a reckless abomination of rusty colored limbs, each rippling with massive, oversized muscles. The jutting edges of the crown were nearly level with the balcony that wrapped around the room, easily giving Kamoshida several meters in height that seemingly spawned from nowhere but sheer force of will.
Panicking, Akira swept his hand forward, sending whatever power he could propelling towards Kamoshida's new form, begging for the magic to tear him into shreds before any of them could get hurt.
"Bastard!" Sakamoto roared once more, upending more blinding light onto Kamoshida, followed by the deafening roar of ripping wind from Morgana.
Neither of their attacks seemed to have an effect on the man turned beast.
One of Kamoshida's arms stretched out once more, but once again, didn't reach for either of them. Instead, large, swollen digits wrapped around the waist of Takamaki's clone, who was still in her own world and not paying any mind to the fact that she was being lifted several meters off the ground. The girl, if anything, seemed to preen under the ministrations, purring loud enough for all of them to ear and nuzzling against the giant vice that had formed around her lithe form. Knowing full well it was a clone, a figment of Kamoshida's disturbed imagination, did nothing to ease Akira's disgust as he watched his classmate—a copy of his classmate, dressed in only her underwear, get picked up by an enormous, crimson fist. Takamaki's clone was placed between the large boxes of Kamoshida's teeth almost delicately, and swiftly ripped in half with a sickening crunch. A cloud of red burst from the corpse, the squirming of her now severed legs ceased, save for the final twitch as her lower half sprayed more and more blood onto Kamoshida's tongue. The man turned beast wrapped his tongue, a sickening red appendage that was reminiscent of a frog's in length, around the remaining parts of Takamaki and sucked her into his mouth with a disturbing slurp.
He'd barely held in his disgust, the swirling burning of acid only held down by the muscles of his throat clamping down against his will.
Sakamoto unleashed another attack, much more powerful than the last and infinitely more blinding.
It did nothing, however, to stop Kamoshida from reaching down for another morsel.
Takamaki screamed, though Akira could hear the weakness in her voice as the girl started to hyperventilate.
"Takamaki!" Sakamoto screamed, his voice catching in the middle and fizzling into nothing.
"You can fight this!" Morgana tried, his rapier slashing into Kamoshida's legs with little success in stopping or even slowing him down."Don't you want to make him pay?"
"Shiho, what about her?!" Sakamoto tried desperately, his voice still cracking and having a dampening effect on his volume. Would Takamaki even hear them? Would she be able to fight it, to find the strength to do so?
Not knowing the answer, Akira stepped forward, sending spell after spell towards Kamoshida's arm, trying to stall for time until either Takamaki escaped or Sakamoto and Morgana could help her down.
"Sakamoto!" Takamaki gasped out, then once again louder, sobbing as her form was lifted higher and higher towards the guillotine of Kamoshida's jaw, her fist, a mere speck in comparison, slammed down on the fleshy parts of Kamoshida's grip. It did not loosen.
Takamaki screamed, a terrible shrill noise that penetrated every pore of Akira's skin, causing hair upon hair to rise up in an anxious wave.
The sounds of flame igniting from thin air evaporated Takamaki's scream.
He could not see if Takamaki had been torn in half.
The entire room was coated in bright, ominous blue light, the intensity flicking around from corner to corner as a whirlwind of flame consumed the entirely of Kamoshida's clenched fist. The man screamed a deafening, piercing screech of pain before he reeled the offending limb back, and flung it towards the ground. The inferno followed, its flames licking up the air until it formed a massive blue fireball that grew taller and wider than Kamoshida was. The flames screamed and screamed like the howling of wind until finally, they took shape.
Staggering to her feet, Takamaki stepped out of a plume of smoke and ash, swathed in nothing but red, the massive form shadowing her dressed in identical hues, a long cigar hanging between her pinched up, blackened lips.
A persona!
"Kamoshida," Takamaki spoke, a firm, quiet tone that seemed to manifest around the entire room, the same way the first flame had managed to, "I'm going to kill you!" Her whisper turned into a roar, just as flames came to life in the palms of her hands.
Twin fireballs split from between her fingers, arcing in opposite directions and slamming into Kamoshida's sides with a thunderous crack. The beast squealed, though it did nothing to distract from the sound of his flesh beginning to sizzle and char within moments. Large chunks of Kamoshida's sides began to crack loudly and soon toppled down, like cherry blossoms in a breeze. Kamoshida's charred flesh smacked onto the ground and exploded in a small plume of charcoal and ash.
In an instant, four sources of magic were wrapping around Kamoshida's new, dangerous form, squeezing him and crushing him until he burst into flames over and over again. Thick white beams of blinding light crackled from beneath his skin as it was ripped open with an endless, ravenous gale. His massive, golden eyes bulged out of their sockets as flames flickered behind them, the tail ends managing to peek out of the edges of Kamoshida's sockets, causing them to melt into nothing but ooze that soon began to slide down the monster's face like thick, white tears. Kamoshida shrank into nothing, the same black ooze that had built him up seeped out of him and melted into the floor until only the man remained, naked and weeping; his eyes still missing.
They all stepped forward.
Kamoshida's form trembled as they surrounded him.
"W-wait! Don't kill me!" He pleaded, pitching himself onto his knees in front of Takamaki, the empty voids of his eye sockets darting around aimlessly. Instead of a response, the blonde summoned another fireball within the palm of her hand with an audible whoosh, and stared down at the man who'd just tried to kill her, unimpressed, though Kamoshida could not see as much.
Akira looked to Morgana, then to Sakamoto.
"Don't, Ann." Skull ordered, kicking Kamoshida out of the way instead of stepping around him. "Don't kill him." He repeated, softer.
The flames, if anything, grew bigger, brighter and Takamaki reeled back, screaming, "Why! Why shouldn't I take everything from him, like he did to Shiho? Like he did to you?" Sakamoto flinched.
"He didn't kill me." He said, even lower than before, "I'm still here."
The flames dimmed, just a little, though remained just as dangerous; just as deadly. "He deserves to die." She countered, though it wasn't as convincing as it had been before.
"Yeah…" Sakamoto agreed, twisting his neck around to glance at Kamoshida, then towards him.
Sakamoto winked.
"Wouldn't it better revenge if we just changed his heart? To make him repent for everything he's done?" The blond offered.
Takamaki stood quietly for a moment, her hands still flaming brightly, "Y-you can do that?" She asked without skepticism.
Sakamoto nodded.
The flames died out, small plumes of smoke twisting out of her gloves and disappearing along with the remaining light in the room.
The two of them turned back towards Kamoshida, who was whimpering on the floor, begging for mercy, for forgiveness. It made his blood boil, just a bit.
"How do we fix this shitfuck, Mona?" Skull asked, directing the conversation onto Morgana for the first time, the cat's oceanic eyes gleamed brightly in the dimness of the room.
"Give him orders to repent for his sins, and he should return to his heart." The cat supplied, walking away from the group.
"Shitfuck," Sakamoto addressed, making Kamoshida whimper even louder, but turn in his direction, "You're gonna tell everyone what you did, police, the principal, everyone! And you're going to apologize to everyone you've ever hurt, even if it takes the rest of your life, got it?"
Kamoshida cried out, "Yes!"
Golden light crackled to life around Kamoshida's body, remarkably and unjustly beautiful, and promptly spluttered in nothing, leaving nothing but a whisper behind, "I'm sorry, all of you."
"Hm." Morgana hummed, drawing Akira's attention away from his other teammate to look at the cat, who now held a smaller, more practical version of Kamoshida's crown between his two paws. "Treasure secured, Joker!" The cat cheered.
Akira smiled, and walked over to his smallest teammate to give him a rather professional and congratulatory rub on his head.
Morgana purred wildly, only for the noise to be overshadowed by an even louder rumbling.
"What the hell?" Skull suddenly shouted, twisting his head to look for another sign of danger.
The rumbling grew in span and volume, a rapturous tenor that shook towards the heavens until it was just underneath them.
The floor split open, a fissure that he heard rather than saw before the entire floor was split into two even pieces.
Akira, for the second time that day, found purchase in Morgana's fur, just below the neck, and began running towards the exit.
"Skull!" Mona called out from the hallway. Stomping immediately followed.
Blinded by clouds of smoke and fire, created from the rupturing of the infrastructure of Kamoshida's castle, Akira blindly navigated his way towards the entrance hall, unable to use eyes or his lungs sent him into a blind panic as each of his senses were slowly drifting away from him. The sensation of being alive, though, that never left. His heart pumped loudly over the sound of collapsing stone, the huff of his throat rasping along as his feet found purchase on unsteady ground.
Silence.
He had made it out the building, but his hearing had long since turned into empty ringing. He watched rather than heard as the castle they'd domineered turned into nothing but rubble, it wasn't enough of a distraction to not remind him of how lonely he was with only Morgana as company.
That is, until two solid hands landed on his shoulders. He didn't even bother questioning how someone had managed to sneak up on him.
Glancing to his side, a flash of black, a cocky grin, the pearly whites of Sakamoto's teeth shone red under the light of the blackened sky.
To his other, a crashing wave of red, and yet another cocky grin, much more reserved than the first.
Just below him, cradled in his arms, was Morgana, holding Kamoshida's treasure.
Together, they walked towards the exit, away from a hectic chapter of their lives.
"Okay…" Takamaki began, once the ringing in all their ears had stopped, "Just one question."
They stepped into the real world. The silence that it brought with it was almost deafening compared to the sound of a castle collapsing in on itself.
Morgana hummed in response, far too busy cradling their bounty to walk, let alone converse; or walk on his own, for that matter.
"What the hell, just happened?"
Sakamoto fell to his knees, laughing.
Akira fell beside him, exhausted, Takamaki on the other, though she was laughing now too.
Why are city people so weird… He asked before falling unconscious, right there in an alley.
