4/11
Akira's deep rest backfires, as he wakes later than he wants, must scarf down the breakfast Sojiro has prepared, and then navigate the bizarre world of Tokyo's subway system.
He finds himself beneath the thin awning of a convenience store. Rain falls in a drizzle, but it is still rain, and he has no umbrella. School, according to his GPS, is only a few blocks away, but he already looks like a mess.
His phone beeps.
He looks.
The app has returned. "What is this thing?" He whispers. He places his thumb over the icon, to delete it again, but the sound of splashing footsteps distracts him. Someone shares the awning with him. She is thin, wears a thick gray hood, and complements her Shujin Academy uniform with red leggings beneath the skirt.
"Crap," comes a light, feminine voice as she reaches pale hands up to the hood. She pulls it back to reveal a mane of blonde hair, pulled into two stylish pig tails, bright green eyes and soft lips.
The girl looks at him, and Akira can't help but meet her eyes. There's a short moment of silence save for the sound of falling rain and feet on wet pavement. Then, she gives him a warm, little smile. The corners of Akira's mouth begin to tug upward...
...and then a horn blasts through the white noise. Both teens jump, and turn towards the source. A white compact car is pulled up alongside the curb. Akira watches as the window rolls down, revealing a flat face topped with a mop of black hair. It is an older man, maybe in his late twenties or early thirties, but when he smiles he seems five to six years younger. "Sorry," he calls in a strong voice. "Didn't mean to startle you. Would you like a ride? It looks like it might keep coming down for a while."
Akira hears a short hitch in the girl's voice when she says, "Yeah, thanks."
As she approaches the car, the man looks at Akira and asks, "Would you like a ride too?" Akira feels a threat beneath the words; that he should not accept. Whether it's his gut instinct, or some subliminal message the man is broadcasting, Akira can't tell.
He gives a quick shake of his head and adds a polite, "No, thank you," but the man is no longer paying attention to him. The blonde girl gets in, and the window begins to roll up. Akira catches a glimpse of a downtrodden look in the girl's eyes. Then, all he sees is his own murky reflection in the glass, and the car drives off.
Slap! Slap! Slap! Slap! Akira blinks and a blonde-haired boy dashes by. His eyes follow the car until it turns the corner. "Shit," he spits, then stops, hunches over and shoves his hands in his pockets. "Screw that pervy teacher."
The words are so odd, Akira repeats them before he can think not to. "Pervy teacher?" His phone beeps, but he ignores it.
The blonde boy turns and glares. His eyes dart over him, and Akira realizes he's been sized up. The kid stalks up to him, a scowl on his face. "What? Are you going to rat me out to Kamoshida?" He asks, his voice dripping with implied menace.
Akira has seen too much, between his trial, brief stint in juvy, and yesterday's train crash to be fazed by this boy's machismo. "I don't know who that is. I don't know who you are either."
The boy's eyes narrow. "What'd you mean, you don't know who Kamoshida is? Kamoshida is, well, Kamoshida! He thinks Shujin Academy is his own personal castle, and he's the King!" Akira's phone beeps. Again, he ignores it.
"Oh, is he a teacher at Shujin?"
The boy takes his hands from his pocket and holds them out, palms up. "Dude, are you like, touched in the head or something? How do you not know all this?"
Akira frowns. "I'm transferring in today."
The boy's face drops. "Oh. Oh, shit." He sighs, and steps out of the rain. "I'm sorry, man. I had no idea. Explains why I didn't recognize you." Beneath his breath, Akira hears him mutter, "There I go again, running my mouth." He turns to Akira, smiles, and holds out his hand. "I'm Ryuji Sakamoto." Akira finds the name familiar, but cannot say from where. Ryuji's eyes fall on the pins that adorn Akira's collar. "You're a second year too, huh? Maybe you'll be in my class."
Akira stares at the outstretched hand for a moment, then reaches out his own. "Akira Kurusu. Nice to meet you." They shake. Ryuji's uniform is unbuttoned and clashes with the bright yellow t-shirt he wears beneath. Only his pants - the same red and black plaid as Akira's - maintain any sense of decorum.
"Anyway," Ryuji continues. "Sucks you had a run in with him on your first day. And Takamaki... Well, whatever. Come on, I'll show you a shortcut to school." He holds his hand out from the awning. "Looks like the rain is dying down too. Let's-" He takes a step and doubles over, his hands going to his head.
Akira misses this, because a quick stab of white hot pain shoots its way through his skull. He groans and grips his temples.
"Man, I feel sick all of a sudden," Ryuji mumbles. "What the hell?" He straightens and rubs his eyes with his thumbs. Akira regains himself as well, and looks around. Nothing's out of the ordinary. He doesn't see any pedestrians, but the rain must've kept them inside. "Let's go," Ryuji says, setting off down the sidewalk. "You don't want to be late on your first day. People will start saying weird shit about you."
#
Tick. Tock. Kawakami stares at the clock.
Tick. Tock. Kawakami stares at the clock.
Tick. Tock. Kawakami stares at the clock.
The minute hands moves. She sighs. "Late," she says, and then looks at the third year student standing alongside her desk. "Late on the first day. Unbelievable!"
Makoto Niijima stands upright. Her hands are folded politely in front of her. Her short brown hair is perfectly styled and held in place by a matching headband. Her clothes are smooth, ironed and immaculate. In this, Kawakami is a bit jealous. She knows she looks like she just crawled out from beneath a rock for the first time in a decade. Her body aches and her skin sucks and her hair - while acceptable - is still something of a mess. Being jealous of a student is unbecoming of a teacher. She tells herself this, and then tells herself to shut up.
She leans back in her chair and says, "I'm sorry I called you here so early for nothing, Niijima-san."
Makoto shakes her head. "Please, think nothing of it. I'm happy to help any student at Shujin. It's my responsibility, after all."
Actually, it's mine. Kawakami does not say this. She is too deep in her own problems to give in to doubt now. "Still, I do appreciate it. I guess I just figured that introducing him to the Student Council President would help him adjust."
Makoto's words are precise and deliberate. "When he does arrive, I'd be happy to meet him."
"Don't be so sure," Kawakami says before she can stop herself. A slight shift in Makoto's brows is the only indicator of surprise. With a sigh she feels throughout her body, she pushes herself to her feet and says, "Come on, I'll walk you back to class."
"Oh, there's no need."
"Forget it. This is happening. Besides," she says as she leads the way to the faculty office's door. "Maybe we'll run into him downstairs."
Homeroom is set to begin soon, but the halls are packed with the same amount of gossiping students as ever. They hunch over their phones, bring their heads together in whispered conversations, and generally ignore Kawakami and Makoto as they head down the hall.
"Did you hear about the transfer student we're supposed to be getting?" Kawakami freezes. This from a young second year girl to her friends. "I hear he assaulted someone."
How the hell do they know that?
"I heard he was in a gang. Or was. The rumor is that he got kicked out for having a beef with the leader."
Wait, what? She looks at Makoto, who must be hearing the same things she is. The girl appears unfazed. But 'appears' doesn't mean 'isn't.' "Come on," she says, not bothering to correct the girls. Even if she says anything to counter the rumor, they will only take it as vindication.
Only, it isn't just the girls. Somehow, the entire student body knows about Akira. They just don't know the facts.
"I hear he's supposed to carry a knife."
"He's got a scar on his face. Like, his whole face!"
"If you make eye contact with him, he'll kill you."
"He can kill you, just by writing your name in a notebook!"
Okay, Kawakami figures. That last one is probably just some anime the kid watched. That excluded, almost everyone is engaged in some warped, bizarre conversation about Akira Kurusu. The poor kid has no chance, she realizes. They've already judged him. It makes her sad, that kids can be so cruel.
They near Makoto's homeroom, and Kawakami reassesses the student council president. Her eyes are on the floor, and there' a slight blush to her cheeks. She's biting her lower lip, and doesn't appear to notice. Kawakami reaches out a hand and rests it on the girl's shoulder. Makoto glances up, startled. "I met him yesterday," she says, channeling the teacher she's always wanted to be. "He seemed perfectly respectful, quiet and calm. He looks totally normal. I mean, sure that could all be an act, and I've got no idea where he is, but I don't believe the rumors, and neither should you."
Makoto seems to find some resolve. Her face grows more serious and she nods. "Yes, Kawakami-sensei. Please, introduce me when he does arrive. I'd be happy to help him adjust."
Kawakami smiles. She can't help herself. "Oh, don't worry, I will. There's at least one reason to look forward to meeting him, Niijima-san." She leans in and whispers, "He's pretty cute." Makoto's eyes widen only a bit, but the blush returns in force. "Well, see you soon." She walks off, leaving the normally stoic Makoto Niijima looking positively non-stoic.
Alright, Akira Kurusu. I'm done covering your ass. You better have a damn good excuse when you do show up.
#
"Hello? Hey! It's me."
"Akira?"
"Yeah. Man, can you hang out tonight? I need to talk to someone."
"I didn't think the trial would be over so soon."
"Open and shut case. That's what the judge said, anyway. So, can we hit the manga cafe?"
"I don't think I can. I need to, uh, study."
"Oh, okay then. How about tomorrow?"
"Yeah. Well, maybe. I'll let you know."
"You've heard I've been expelled, right? You won't see me at school. Text me after, okay?"
"Y-yeah."
"Hey, it's me! Where have you been, man?"
"Oh, Akira. Hi. Um, can I call you back?"
"I've texted you, like, a hundred times. What's going on?"
"I've been busy."
"Yeah, you and everyone else. Come on, please. What's happening?"
"It's... it's our parents, okay? Given everything you did-"
"Everything I did? I explained all this to you. You know that guy lied, right? The woman too. You don't believe I'd actually do that, right?"
"..."
"Hello?"
"I'm sorry."
"Look man, please don't hang up, alright? I really, really need someone to talk to. Please."
"... I'm sorry, Akira."
"Wait, please. Wait!"
Click.
#
"Yo, dude! Wake up!" The voice is far away.
"Don't...don't hang up," Akira mumbles. "Please. I need..."
Sensation returns. He feels hands on his shoulders, smells mildew and iron, and tastes blood in his mouth.
"Akira!"
Akira's eyes open, and the worried face of the blonde boy is staring down at him. Ryuji. His name is Ryuji Sakamoto. "Wh-what?"
Ryuji lets him go and stands up. "Finally! You freaked me out man. That thing hit you so hard, I thought you were in a coma or something!"
"Thing?" Akira asks. "What thing?" It is then that he notices the environment he is in. A box. One made of red stones, black bars with chains and manacles hanging from above. He lies on a filthy, yellow-stained cot. Another box.
"Are you-" Ryuji starts, but Akira remembers. Remembers finding a castle where the school should've been. Remembers walking inside and entering that strange hall with the chandeliers and pillars. Remembers the things in black armor that swarmed them. Remembers their shields and swords. He remembers a sharp pain in the base of his skull, and then nothing.
He sits up. "Ryuji, where the hell are we?"
"How should I know?" Ryuji asks. "At first I thought this was a TV set, but I don't see no cameras. Not to mention..." He trails off as a long, faint scream echoes down the hall. "There's that. We need to get out of here, fast." He holds out his hand, and Akira takes it. Ryuji pulls him to his feet and says, "Help me look."
"There's nothing to see, Sakamoto."
Both boys turn towards the voice, and find a tall, black haired man dressed in nothing but a thick fur cape and sharp pink speedo, standing behind the bars. A golden crown sits on his brow. It matches his eyes.
"Ka-kamoshida?" Ryuji asks, eyes bulging.
"The pervy teacher?" Akira asks.
Kamoshida's golden eyes turn to regard him. "Oh? You brought a friend. I didn't know you had any left."
"What the hell is going on?" Ryuji shouts. "What'd you do to the school? Why're we locked up in here?"
"The school? I didn't do anything to it. It's exactly as it should be. Though, to think the infamous Ryuji Sakamoto would possess the nerve to sneak in, or do anything, for that matter, without my permission. Unforgivable." He claps his hands, and a pair of armored guards stalks from the shadows. "Bring these knaves to the execution grounds. Their punishment shall be death."
The guards clap their swords to their chests. Metal rings against metal. "All Hail, King Kamoshida!" They shout.
The door swings open. The guards enter. Ryuji is shouting for an explanation, for things to make sense. Strong, gauntleted hands seize Akira's shoulders. He does not think to struggle. His mind is lost somewhere else. It cannot understand how any of this real.
They pass dozens of cells, filled with young men not unlike themselves, all of them alternating between begging for some kind of mercy, and praising King Kamoshida.
"Long live King Kamoshida!"
"All Hail King Kamoshida!"
"Glory to King Kamoshida!"
A black sky greets them as they are dragged into a courtyard. The space is massive, the size of several gymnasiums, and in the center is a raised platform upon which rest a series of metal stumps. Before the platform, is a gilded throne, tacky with jewels and leather, atop a short, grey stone staircase.
Kamoshida reclines on this, lazily. A blonde girl, dressed in a skimpy, pink bikini, sits in his lap. Akira recognizes her as the girl from under the awning.
"Takamaki!" Ryuji shouts, when he sees her. "What the hell are you doing? Get away from her, you son of a bitch!" The guards force Ryuji and Akira forward, the former struggling, the latter just getting dragged.
Kamoshida laughs. "Save your breath, Sakamoto. This one," and he strokes the girl's hair with his left hand. "Knows her place. It's a pity you could never learn yours." The girl has a ditzy look on her face, and she giggles like a schoolgirl when he says this.
"Dammit," Ryuji screams, as he's led up the steps of the platform.
On the steps to the throne, a dozen girls lounge like cats on a cushion. They are all young, all beautiful, all dressed in revealing clothing. All of them regard the two boys with contempt.
"Takamaki!" Ryuji is still shouting. "Ann! Snap out of it! Help us!"
The guards drag Akira onto the platform alongside Ryuji. In an almost synchronized movement, the guards force the two of them to their knees. A fist grips Akira's head and forces it against the cold metal stump.
"Oh my god," Ryuji whimpers. "Oh my god, oh my god."
"Hold!" The voice rings out across the courtyard, and Akira can turn his head just enough to see Kamoshida standing before his throne, his hand held up, palm out.
"My King?" One of the guards asks.
"This is my Castle, is it not? Therefore, I think it should be me who ends their pathetic lives."
"Of course, My King!"
The guards chat amongst themselves excitedly, and Kamoshida begins to descend from his throne. As he passes the scantily clad girls, they reach out adoringly and caress his bare chest, abs, legs, and even his crotch. His smile is twisted and horrible, but Akira pays little attention to it.
Behind the throne, a blue flame burns.
Pain shoots through his mind. He takes half a breath before he must release it in a scream. Someone is hammering railway spikes into his brain.
The flame warps itself into a humanoid figure, and steps towards him. "You should have left them alone." A voice reverberates through his bones, and Akira recognizes it as his own, though there's a faint, sinister lilt. "It would have been easier, yes?"
"Akira?" He hears Ryuji call his name, but Akira cannot reply. He cannot think! It hurts so much!
If anyone else can see the burning blue figure approach, they give no indication. Kamoshida struts leisurely across the field towards the platform, but the burning man is beginning to outpace him.
"All the torment you've suffered! All the shame! All the anger! It could've been avoided. You should have just left them alone. You should have walked on. Ignored the screams. Listened to his threats. You should have done nothing." The figure stands before the platform now, and through the writhing agony, Akira can see himself, eyes wide and golden, smile twisted and baleful.
Help! Someone help!
"Help?" The second Akira asks. "No one is coming to help you. You are going to die here. That boy you're with? He's going to die here, too. Are you going to watch it happen? Are you going to accept it?" It climbs onto the platform, and leans down into Akira's face. "Admit it. It was all a mistake. Admit. It."
A spike in the pain brings a moment of clarity. It returns him to that cool night, not so long ago. He feels the smooth concrete of the road beneath his feet, smells the clean air. He hears the screams, and finds the two once more. The man with his hands on the woman, his clothes soaked through with alcohol. The woman, the buttons on her blouse already ripped away, her eyes wide and teary with fear. She sees him, and she cries out for help. She begs him for help. Him. Akira Kurusu. Because there is no one else.
He glares at his double, and thinks of the look in his mother's eyes when he was declared guilty, of the friends who stopped talking to him once the trial ended, of the judge who declared him a delinquent, the teachers who believed it, and he thinks of Sojiro who sees him as a pain in the ass, the pudding Principal who wants him to 'keep his nose clean,' Miss Kawakami who can't be bothered. He glares at his double and realizes that all of this could have been avoided, if only he had walked away that night.
But.
Through gritted teeth, he growls, "It wasn't a mistake!"
And his double's grin grows, and it replies, "Very good."
Kamoshida scales the platform, and takes a sword off one of the guards.
The figure vanishes, the pain intensifies, and he hears the words, "VOW TO ME. I AM THOU. THOU ART I. THOU WHO ART WILLING TO PERFORM ALL SACRILEGIOUS ACTS FOR THINE OWN JUSTICE!"
Kamoshida raises the sword over Ryuji's head. "Goodbye, Sakamoto."
Akira's fist rises and crashes into the metal stump, denting it. The king turns and regards the young man.
"CALL UPON MY NAME AND RELEASE THY RAGE! SHOW THE STRENGTH OF THY WILL TO ASCERTAIN ALL ON THINE OWN, THOUGH THOU BE CHAINED TO HELL ITSELF!"
"What are-" Kamoshida begins, but a gust of wind rips down from above and knocks him off balance. The guards are shaken, and the fist that held Akira's head is gone.
Akira straightens. His glasses are gone. Something else has taken their place. He reaches up to feel what it is.
"Per..."
His hands find the smooth ivory of a mask. It covers his eyes and nose, a masquerade caricature.
"...so..."
He grips the edges of the mask and pulls. His skin peels and tears away from the muscle and bone beneath. His last syllable becomes a scream as it rips free.
"...NA!"
His blood dashes along the top of the platform, and pours onto the metal stump. Blue flame engulfs him as a deep laugh echoes across the courtyard.
Kamoshida jumps back. "Wh-what?"
The guards, distracted, have let Ryuji go. The boy falls away from the stump, and stares, slack jawed, at Akira as he stands.
He turns around. His eyes - his own - are wide and free, and the smile on his face is confident and wild. The flames dance across his body, and turn to cloth. A long obsidian three-tailed overcoat over a thin charcoal long-sleeved turtleneck. Sable slacks. Blood red gloves. Slick black shoes.
Akira throws back his head and cries, "ARSENE!"
The remaining flame explodes upwards, and coalesces into a nightmare. A blood red frockcoat with a death white ascot. A mockery of a top hat. Over-long, spindle fingers tipped in claws. Long, terrible corvid wings like those of a devil's. The smirking furnace of a face. Thick, chains form in Akira's gloved hands. They loop up and around the beast. Akira spreads his arms wide, tosses the bonds aside, and both creature and man roar in exultation.
"Excellent!" Arsene cries. "You have thrown aside your false heart and embraced the power of your rebellion!" It hunches over him, and asks, "What do you ask of me?"
Akira glances at Kamoshida and the guards. He smiles. "Ravage them."
"With pleasure." It screeches, and rises into the air. Tendrils of black and red lance from it wings, curling towards his enemies.
One guard throws itself in front of Kamoshida, and the fronds pierce its armor and mask. It gives one short gasp of pain before vanishing into a cloud of black ash.
Kamoshida dashes down the steps of the platform, before spinning back and asking, "Wh-what the hell are you?"
Akira takes a step towards him. "A delinquent."
"How dare you!" One guard screams and hurls himself towards him. Akira feels something form in his hand. It is a long, curved black knife.
"These ones block your path!" Arsene calls. "They seek to stifle, to contain. Let them feel your rage!" The guard swings his sword, but Akira sidesteps. The blade in his hand is moving before he can think to fight back, and it punctures the thing's armor like so much tin. It dissolves with a choked cry.
I'm faster. Stronger too. That isn't all. There is a reason he is smiling. Even as a part of him rebels at everything, screams that none of this makes any sense and can't possibly be real, the largest part of himself is thrilled. This all feels so good.
"Tell me something, your majesty," Akira says to the king. "How should a peasant living under the thumb of an unjust ruler conduct himself?" He is that other part of himself now. The one with the golden eyes. His words are its words. Its words are his. "Should he let himself be trampled beneath the wheels of a tyrant's ambition?" His boots pound on the boards of the platform as he walks. "Should he let himself fade away, content with his lot of falsehoods and inconsequence?" He crouches on the edge of the platform, right before Kamoshida's sweat drenched face. "Or..." he holds up his knife and inclines the point towards his own eye. "Should he smash the king?" Akira swings his blade for the man's neck. Kamoshida yelps, recoils just beyond the knife's range, and falls back onto the grass.
"My King!" Another guard shouts. Others take up the chorus. Five guards move to their lord's side, gather him up and begin to shuffle him towards the safety of the Castle. The girls, whoever they are, have all been shrieking since Arsene appeared, and cluster behind Kamoshida as he is led away.
Two guards try their luck with Akira, but Arsene eviscerates them.
Akira straightens and to Arsene, his Persona, says, "Lend me your power." The creature nods and vanishes.
Ryuji scurries a bit further away when Akira turns to him. "D-d-dude! What the hell was all that?"
Akira smiles – it is warm this time - and walks over to him. He leans over, offers a hand and says, "I know, right?"
##
A/N: Today's is to be a busy one, so I wanted to post this early. I had to break this day up into two chapters, for length and thematic reasons. The rest will be posted Wednesday.
Just to be clear on a few things, although all I've posted so far has a ratio of one day per chapter, that it not going to be the case. Some days are a proper length for a whole chapter. Others are better off broken into several. Some chapters (I've written several) lend themselves to a stretch of several days. One of the latest chapters I wrote contains four days. So, if you thought this was going to be a plod, don't worry.
Well, no, it's still going to be 'long ride' as one commentor put it, just not for that specific reason.
Thank you very much for reading, and I hope you all continue to do so!