Chapter 2: Baptism by Fire, Part I
(Disclaimer: Based on Atlus's property. Not mine.)
For a good 2 hours, it was just sirens on the street level. The SIU director, wearing a navy blue shirt and pacing back and forth in his office, had a panoramic view of the orchestra happening near the Shibuya hub.
Sae came at the right time, as she was witness to the latest news report on TV:
"...The engineer's life was not in danger despite his injuries. After interrogation, even he had no explanation for his high speed upon entering the station. No further comments have been paid by the engineer or the police."
Sae sadly knew they were back at the same point: A confused witness with no memory whatsoever, and people hurt from whatever said person did.
The only saving grace at this point was that Makoto was skilled enough in the kitchen to make a decent meal for herself. Hopefully, that'll get someone to take care of her...if I'm not around.
Regardless, the sooner I solve this case, the better, she thought.
The director was still focused ahead on the TV, processing all of the information he received just now. "It's less of an operating accident and more of a crime of a company and the government. Site inspectors apparently reported all of that 6 months ago: the deterioration of the track and the ATC. Seems the ministry of transport and the ATC both turned a blind eye to the truth...there's no way they can hide now. This will go all the way to the top."
A long pause came from the director.
"So...you think that everything's linked, correct?" asked the aging, balding SIU director-in-glasses after hearing Sae's theory. "Well..."
She had seen the director's stony reaction long enough to know that he wasn't convinced. And after all that time too, she relented; she could actually be gathering evidence, looking up "that research" and not wasting time on useless interrogation. At this rate, she wouldn't be moving up the ladder anytime soon.
"Are you free? I haven't had a drink with you in a while," said the SIU investigator.
"Thank you, sir, but I have another meeting to attend. Please excuse me."
Sae found herself back in her cubicle. Many had already checked out for the rest of the day, so she was alone. Her head felt rather heavy right now, and her forehead was tight. She also felt flush as well.
She was starting to imagine all of the mangled bodies trapped in the rubble underground. Poor beat cops too. The EMTs probably had to cart their contorted carcasses, oozing with fresh blood out of every orifice, up to the ground.
Contorted..like him.
She slowly searched through her desk. She found a small flask and took a swig out of it. Her mouth recognized how strong and cheap this stuff was.
She shut her eyes for a second to make them relax.
It didn't work. It was coming back. She was imaging him again, twisted up like a marionette on the ground of some narrow Shinjuku street.
She figured she needed a few more before walking out too.
She had Akechi Goro left to hear her out. He may be a smug, vainglorious, egotistical teen when he's not in front of the camera, but he still is a steadily rising detective. With more clout than me, sadly.
Akechi was waiting out by the lobby. "Did you ask for me; is it a case?" chimed Akechi at first sight of Sae. Carrying his metal suitcase of course; with what, who knows? she pondered to herself.
"Not really; just wanted you to hear an opinion."
"Sure, though your judgment is often quite correct. Sushi this time?"
"...Conveyor belt only."
The train accident proved to be the worst. Being stuck in traffic with Sojiro for 2 hours gave him the worst migraine. This was perhaps the first time he honestly didn't want him around, as Sojiro kept on ranting out of frustration over standstill traffic.
Though there was one phrase that seemed to resonate a lot even as he pulled up to LeBlanc:
"What a troublesome kid I've taken in..."
Troublesome, Akira pondered as he was twirling his phone on his middle finger.
Akira supposed his parents thought along the same lines after the incident, though the phrase for them would be "What a troublesome kid we've born."
Sis was arguably worse though. Maybe she got away with more stuff because she was technically an adult.
...Was one.
The buzzing of his phone jolted Akira out of his contemplative stupor. Which was good, since Sojiro wanted to say something, and it was better not to keep Sojiro waiting while being gridlocked.
"What a waste of my time," Sojiro groaned. "I didn't even get a chance to open the cafe today...well whatever. Follow me upstairs. I need to give you something."
Hopefully not a tracking collar...hopefully.
Turned out it was the closest thing: a black-cover probation diary.
"You may be on probation, but there are no special limitations on what you can do. Besides following the law," Sojiro started to explain. "However, I'm obligated to report on you, which is why I'm having you record your daily activities."
"I hope 'no special limitations' means I can go to the bathhouse to get a decent bath...wait, don't tell me I have to record THAT in the journal," Akira replied jokingly.
"Wiseass; and the answer is still no on the bathhouses." Sojiro grimaced. He looked like he wanted to be equally snarky in response, but a call on Sojiro's cell seemed to lighten his mood; he was smiling warmly to himself as he put the receiver to his ear.
Just who was on the other end, Akira thought. He was about to ask, but Sojiro didn't want to keep the other person on the end waiting, so he closed up shop.
"Don't mess up my store. If something goes missing, I'll hand you over right to the cops. Now, you have school tomorrow, so don't stay up too late." Sojiro put back on his white fedora and headed out.
A few minutes after though, the rotary public phone in the eating area rang.
Akira was surprised things like this actually worked still.
Picking up revealed it was Sojiro on the other end.
"You called the public line? You have a cell you know," Akira said, still bewildered.
"Sorry," Sojiro said, "I have a habit of not keeping guys saved on my phone."
"And you call me a weirdo."
"Just flip the sign outside to CLOSED. Though I don't imagine people would be coming here this late," Sojiro said.
Or any other part of the day for the matter. "Ahh darn, you know I was going to invite my lady friend over...seriously, though, I'll do that."
"I did say not to stay up too late. Plus, you should save your energy for school, punk. In more ways than one. Well, night."
Akira did what Sojiro asked and flip the sign to CLOSED. Outside of LeBlanc, a night breeze was starting to make the trees gently shed on the alleyway. Every store around LeBlanc was already closed off too. The second-hand store near here especially stood out, as the metal shuttering was shining under a nearby street light. Not wanting a cold on the first day of school, he went back in. The rotary phone chimed once again.
What did Sojiro forget now? "Sojiro, I wasn't serious about bringing home a lady."
"Excuse me?" chimed an older lady. Her throat was a bit hoarse and tired-sounding. But it was a familiar voice.
Mom. Shit.
Akira did message her the other day, but she didn't expect her to respond. On a public phone no less.
"Mother..."
Akira had to pause for a bit. Why on a public phone?
"I was wondering when you were going to respond. Why are you not using your cell phone? You're always glued to that thing."
"...I lost it. I didn't know you called..." his mother said, groggily. "What time is it?"
Akira didn't feel like pressing this further. Intercoms sounded in mom's background.
"Around 9. You're usually up a bit later...long day?"
"...I guess. Though I thought for some reason it was 7. I just wanted to take a nap, but I guess I just had a problem sleeping. Or waking up, either or. Sorry...what did you say about bringing a woman home?"
"Sorry," Akira said. "I'm just giving Sojiro a hard time, it's nothing."
"Well, son, at least you're keeping your chipper attitude, I see." She seasoned those words with something bitter. "At this rate though, you should make fewer jokes and more marks on your exams. I may be away, but in two months, don't. Disawphoint...me again."
Akira was noticing the shaking of a pill bottle before what sounded like "disappoint." And Akira was sure that wasn't static from the rotary phone. He also noticed it wasn't a low, relaxed gulp, but a strained, reluctant one.
Akira decided to go down the rabbit hole with this observation.
"Is that vitamins you are swallowing?"
Akira could only think of that as his best euphemism. The clues he was hearing weren't leading to anything good; the drone of intercoms one would find in a hospital, the public phone, the pill bottle.
"...Your observational ability is real annoying, you know that..."
Akira could hear her voice breaking up on her end.
"I've got to go...don't be late for school...sorry."
His mom hung up her phone. After all of that, Akira couldn't fall asleep. He spent at least a whole hour sitting on his futon, letting the smell of old coffee and curry from downstairs settle with the musk of old books. He sat there, staring at and twirling around his phone before his finger started to cramp.
Should I call him and tell him what I'm thinking?
10:30 PM. It's now or never. Either way...maybe I should call. Dad probably doesn't have the energy; he does work on Sundays still. He should be at home though, so why not?
A press of his contacts. A press of "Dad."
One ring...still waiting.
Two rings...still waiting. Though to be fair, he answers at the last minute, considering he tends to misplace his flip-phone.
Three, four rings...still no response.
Five rings...
Maybe I should try and go to-
"Hello," an old, rough, deep voice chimed. It seemed looser than usual.
"How are you, dad?" asked Akira.
"Oh just fine...stressful day but...I feels better naw..."
It was as if the smell of cheap sake drifted into Akira's receiver.
"Yeah...you sure do sound like it."
"Are you being smart as usual?" Akira's dad blurted out. "Absoorbing dem fancy books youse read? Sheesh. Shame you're such a rascul."
...Rascal?
Akira after a while said, "You know...mom called over here."
His dad's eagerness receded. Silence began to settle in.
"Is that so, huh...she, uh..."
His dad decided to clear his throat; his words seemed to stick on the roof his mouth.
"She uh...she say...where she was...?"
It's hard to say, Akira thought, whether he would actually listen to my theory. And in this state? Maybe...it's better to be quiet for now. Better to sure. "Unfortunately no."
Another long pause. His voice was now a few decibels lower. "I see...well, just...uh...just go to bed. It's late you know. Just don't be late."
Akira went back to the attic and changed into some lounge clothes. He followed up by summarizing what had happened today in his diary, using the plainest, most clinical words he could summon from his vocabulary. The April air, noticeably humid, was heavier than usual, making the pages stick.
He also noticed that weird eye app pop up on his phone again. Phishing scam, perhaps? I should scrub my phone tomorrow, he thought.
He then continued to twirl his phone on his middle finger while laying in bed. With every twirl, more turmoil formed under a stoic face. With each twirl, a mental "What to do" flashing in front of him; and within each half-turn, the idea popping up that perhaps, by not telling Dad, he, perhaps, did an act of mercy on both of his parents.
Just like how, despite his wanting to know someone like Makoto better, he did her an act of mercy by distancing himself from her.
A buffer between her and his untethered, seething self.
A self he identified as the real him.
At last, right when he about to drift into the night, a voice called to him. An echo of a remote past. Female, but haughty, it said:
"You better tear shit up tomorrow."
4/11
He slept about as well as he could have. At the sound of his first alarm on his phone, he hastily put on his uniform and took his probation diary. He had to account for the confusion of navigating between subway lines, after all.
Walking down into the restaurant, Sojiro turned around, prepping his first batch of meaty curry he was surprised to see Akira.
"What, you're going to school?" Sojiro exclaimed. "Here, I'll feed you, just finish up before customers come in."
Sojiro placed a place of curry on the counter. Given how Sojiro acted last night, it was hard to tell whether his "friend" on the other phone helped lighten his mood, or he was naturally this mercurial. But either way...Akira appreciated it.
And Akira supposed he could use something in his system to wake him up after THAT talk.
Though...
"Curry?" Akira replied.
"Just sit down and eat it," Sojiro grumbled. "Don't give me that look."
A bite of curry though evaporated Akira's trepidation. The complex flavors with bold spiciness...Akira almost wished he didn't have to go to school.
But Sojiro reminded him firmly he had to go to school. "You're going to be late if you get lost, country boy. Now hurry up and flip the sign when you leave."
"Got it," Akira said. "Oh, and uh...thanks for the curry."
Now, Akira felt bad LeBlanc wasn't getting the attention it deserved.
Getting to the station at Yongen wasn't too hard. Though that rumor about the Tokyo underground was true: there is no sitting. Or room. Just shoulder to shoulder, hugging one's bag like a baby. Akira started to get lost though at Shibuya station. What tripped him up was the accident; it closed down his original route, so he had to detour quite a lot and weave through more people he would have liked. Eventually, though, he got to where he was going after a bunch of trial and error and asking beat cops for directions. And his phone of course.
His main issue though was the weather. He had forgotten that Tokyo around this time ambushes people aplenty with flash showers. Something that was becoming very apparent as he was darting from awning to awning. Seeing other Shujin students run past him with umbrellas reminded him that he was the odd element in these parts.
In more ways than one.
At the very least, he would try his best not to get soaked before hitting school. He especially didn't want his hair wet, as his frizzy hair when wet made him look like a sad, wet dog. And have a similar smell to one, too.
He decided to take a break under the awning of a high-end boutique store.
Reorient myself. Maybe take another look at his GPS just to be safe. A look at the GPS though came with the reappearance of his favorite app. "Palace detected." What does that even mean? This malware is getting annoying, Akira thought.
The rain was starting to let up when someone in a white hoodie decided to hide under the awning with Akira. A woman, by the shape of her legs, which was well apparent with her red leggings. Her pale white hands began to pull back her white hoodie to reveal-
Blonde hair.
Something a country boy like Akira would have died to see. This wasn't a dyed blonde either, nor a dirty gray blonde like those twins in the dream. A natural blonde. A natural blonde in pigtails, with bouncy-looking pigtails and blue eyes staring out in the rain.
Could she be a foreign-
Akira couldn't complete that thought as the blonde woman used her sixth sense to notice him, stunned look and all. Oddly enough, she smiled at him and continued to look at the rain. Perhaps she was used to it; nice to her not to be rude, Akira thought. Though for some reason, his mind transitioned to that encounter with that Student Council President with the hairband (Prez, he nicknamed her for the time being). Something about her auburn hair, her auburn eyes, the warm smile despite their awkward first encounter...
I'm starting to drift again. Hard to say whether out of mental exhaustion or boredom though.
Maybe I should study in the library. I could use the stimulation...
A couple of minutes later, a white sedan pulled up to them. On the driver's side was a guy with curly black hair, a dense-looking chin, and a blue tracksuit. Thirty-something based on appearance, but rather athletic in shape from the contours of his chest. He called out to the lady next to Akira for a ride. She seemed...reluctant for some reason. Something in him wanted to say something ridiculous like "boyfriend." Her dad or guardian, more likely. He offered him a ride, but Akira felt like a walk would clear his head before school started.
Just who was-
"Takamaki!...Pervert teacher," someone uttered, thick with malice and slightly out of breath from running.
Akira turned to the left of him. Another blonde kid? Male, this time, and obviously with dyed hair. Wearing the Shujin uniform, but with a yellow shirt (typical of an actual punk) and rolled-up pants. He was noticeably hunching forward, pockets in his hand, snarling his teeth.
"Pervert teacher?" Akira said out loud.
His phone chimed in. "Condition met."
The sound of Akira's phone attracted the attention of the faux blonde.
"In the car now. That was Kamoshida," Faux Blonde explained, his head slightly cocked to the side. "He does whatever the hell he wants. Who does he think he is, the king of his own castle? Don't you agree?"
Akira was horribly lost, to say the least. Best be direct, he thought to himself. "Uhh, castle? And for the record, I have no idea who you're talking about. This is my first day at Shujin, to be honest."
A murmur of "Conditions met" came from Akira's pocket.
This vulgar boy was starting to get the picture. "Oh, a transfer student huh? Second year, I'm gonna guess. No wonder you don't know him. Anyways, the rain's not too bad. Let's hurry up before we're too late."
As they were going, though, both boys were stuck with the sharpest twinge of pain in their head. They were running late though, so they just put it in the back of their minds for now. They would have to snake through quite some alleyways, but Shujin was within reach. A quarter hour later, the duo was about to make aturn of a corner into an alleyway that directly faced Shujin.
Akira though felt that the "mood" was different. Stepping through a puddle, for example, would just...simply be stepping through the puddle. A transparent splash, which on a cloudy day like today, would be a dull, gray splash. As he was closing in on Shujin, the splashes he would make on the ground would have a neon purple hue. In fact, every step he would make would produce a light purple hue as if he was walking on a thin, shallow, magenta pool.
Shujin Academy would be his biggest shocker, as the two found themselves in front of:
A goddamn castle.
One out of a fairy tale's nightmare, with towers being skyscrapers of gold yellow brick and mortar, and a moat entrance to boot. It was easy to say both of these boys were confused. Oddly though, Ryuji took this with a grain of salt and kept forward as if this was just some elaborate "prank." Akira's instinct told him to not go there at all cost.
But seeing how everywhere around him was just as purplish and nightmarish, he reckoned he didn't have a choice.
Plus, he was starting to get concerned for Faux Blonde in ever increasing ways.
"We went the right way though!" Faux Blonde said to Akira, pointing to the placard on the left side of the entrance.
Indeed, Akira thought. This should be Shujin. Faux Blonde continued on over the moat bridge. "Guess we'll just go ahead and ask ourselves. Though, this has to be one hell of a prank."
Inside the castle though proved it wasn't just a prank, despite Faux Blonde's insistence on it being one. Where there should have been the building's entrance hallway was instead a large entrance hall out of an old medieval castle, with marble pillars and a large, red-carpeted set of stairways in the middle.
"T-That's weird...Where's the school? N-n-no this has to be it!" Faux Blonde cried out.
Akira could only be stunned by all of this. About the castle, and about this boy's lack of a clue.
Akira was then startled by the clambering of armor. The suit of armor approaching them came with a sharp-looking sword, hardened shield, and a blue mask of sadness in place of a normal face. Just what the hell was going on, Akira thought. I have to stand ready, rely on my-
Wait, WHAT IS FAUX BLONDE DOING GOING TOWARDS IT!?
"Geez, you freaked me out," Faux Blonde said with a sigh of relief.
What seriously? How oblivious is this kid?
"Man, your costume is impressive. Is that armor real? Cmon, say something."
"Hey, that armor DOES looks real, maybe you should-"
Akira was cut off by the appearance of another identical-looking knight. His third eye was on overdrive; he knew these things were surrounding him.
"Hey, we gotta run," Akira said. "This is real!"
"No shit!" Faux Blonde replied.
It was no use though. Four of these things closed in well enough so that they were boxed in.
"What the hel-"
Akira felt a thud and he was knocked out.
It was bordering three hours. Akira wasn't here at school at all. That was enough to set the teachers over the edge in varying degrees. Either way, the faculty office had already called Sojiro warning that Akira…Ren...whatever… was a no-show.
For Makoto though...her anger felt more personal, though why she was, she wasn't sure. It also didn't help that his record had already been leaked and now people were referring to him as "the infamous transfer student."
But how though?! That stuff should have been kept within the faculty and me.
And me...well...
I don't think I know anyone around here well enough. Nor was she that much of a chatterbox to leak something that sensitive.
She then had a rather pitiful possibility: that these rumors were scaring Akira off. Though, she supposed she was now projecting her fears as a new student onto others.
Either way, the murmurs about the transfer student was an ill welcome for a transfer student. Despite the fact Akira was a delinquent, she knew he still had the right to not be harassed in the halls. And someone, in her eyes, had to be held accountable for this.
Even if...it had to be a teacher. Of course. She didn't want to believe it, but that was her best route of investigation.
Best route would have to be Kawakami...
Lunchtime had rolled up. Makoto didn't have any obligations to eat with her friends. The closest thing to that was her fellow Student Council members, but she had other plans. At this point, Makoto stormed to the faculty office, where Kawakami usually ate.
"Kawakami-sensei!" Makoto said as she walked briskly into the room as Kawakami was just about to touch her onigiri.
"Nijima-san," Kawakami said, slightly surprised. "What are you doing here? You don't usually eat lunch in a faculty office. Or rather, no one does."
"Sensei, did you tell anyone here at school about the transfer student's past?", Makoto said with ever increasing stress.
"Oh god, not this kid again. Nijima-san, this boy may be causing me trouble considering he isn't here, but the only people I've talked to this about is faculty. Just Kamoshida and just the other teachers who would be switching out with me this year."
"Then tell me why EVERYONE knows about his past already? And why aren't you troubled about this?"
"Look," Kawakami said, getting ever more dejected. "I still don't understand why I was given Akira the first place. A male teacher should have been better off with him than me. And it's a shame too; his previous academic record is solid. But he has a record..." Her eyes squinted with newfound curiosity towards Makoto. "Besides, you're the Student Council President. Shouldn't you be more troubled by other things then just one troublesome kid?
"Of course not," Makoto said with her Student Council poker face. That's ridiculous, Makoto thought. Any frizzy-haired student deserved better than this. Particularly if there was something redeemable about him." I'm Student Council President," Makoto continued. I care for all of my students. Especially one this...infamous, for lack of better words. And I thought you of all people would understand that."
Makoto had perhaps touched the wrong nerve in Kawakami, as the blood was starting to rush from her face. "What are you sayin-"
"C'mon now, Nijima-san," interrupted the gym teacher.
Kamoshida, of course, Makoto thought. Already wanting to be the center of attention in any big conversation. Former Olympic medalist in volleyball, his prestige did bring Shujin renown and pride with countless championships for both the boys' team and girls' team. But Makoto had learned to tolerate him for now. Particularly for the sake of the upcoming rally.
"A past stellar academic record or not, I still don't understand why we let him here," Kamoshida continued, now with his nose slightly up in the air.
"The principal said it would be good for the school's reputation if they took in troubled kids and potentially reform them," Kawakami said, with her head down in part remembrance, part exhaustion. The exhaustion part was still catching Makoto's concern, but she would probably have to probe into that another day.
"I've would have thought that my volleyball team contributed more than enough for the school's reputation."
He turned his attention to both of them, much to Makoto's distaste. "Just be careful around him ok?" putting on the most arrogant of smiles while doing so. "If he causes any trouble, I'll kick him out immediately. Well, I gotta head back to practice. Lot of eyes on me to win the upcoming tournament! Got to make up for the track team debacle..."
"Yeah, I suppose you're right," Kawakami replied. "I'll let you be then."
As Kamoshida trailed off, the words "arrogant, despicable asshole" echoed in Makoto's mind.
"Perhaps you should head off too; you haven't eaten yet, and class is going to resume in 10 minutes..." Kawakami continued, now addressing Makoto. She then talked to herself out loud: "I almost now wish he didn't go to this school at all. All this stress this boy is causing me..."
Makoto started to walk off. Though, for some reason, her judgment subsided. She turned her head slightly in the direction of Kawakami to say something, fists clenched enough to push out all signs of color from them.
"What happened to you, Kawakami-sensei?
The sunlight streaming through the window blinds of the room had colored Makoto's eyes to be blood-red. And they stared intensely at Kawakami, searching for some spark left in her. She turned back and headed out of the room, not finding any.
Kawakami had heard it all. And the only thing she could say under her breath: "I don't know." She was starting to sniff a little while eating her onigiri.
As Makoto re-entered the hallway, a first year was walking past. He was wearing the typical Shujin turtleneck and pants, but not the jacket, and was holding a volleyball in his hand heading towards the gymnasium. He was trying to hide it from everyone passing him, but it wasn't like anyone was trying to stare at him; his face was black and blue, swollen. Makoto was surprised he could see out of his left eye.
She didn't want to believe those rumors...but she might be running into something worse than an absentee fluffy-haired transfer student. On top of other things...
Akira woke up, still with Faux Blonde but now in the dingiest, darkest cell they could imagine. Only a meager torch in a remote corner to light up the place, and a mix of barrels and wall chains for "atmosphere."
Faux Blonde, now on board with the shit the both of them were in, started to get concerned.
"So, this is no dream, huh?" he chimed in. "Hey, are you alright?" Akira nodded. Faux Blonde began to shake the bars in a useless attempt to get out. His energy to shake bars though drained as the sound of someone in pain came from outside.
It sounded close.
It was by that point they were scrambling to find for anything to use, anywhere to escape from.
Footsteps were inching closer to their cell.
Under the wooden box trying to pass itself off as a bed? No, just more bricks. Barrels? Nothing...
Too late. Another one of those armored guards came to their cell door. "Be glad that your punishment had been decided upon already. For the crime of unlawful entry...you will be sentenced to death."
A familiar voice followed after. "After all, no one is allowed to do what they please in my castle. And to think it wasn't a petty thief, but you, Sakamoto."
Someone, or something, that looked like that "pervert teacher," but in a red, regal robe, a small crown, and...slippers (?!), was now talking to them.
"Kamoshida!" Faux Blonde screamed out. "This isn't funny, asshole!"
"And now you insult me? Another death sentence for you."
Three guards entered the cell, and now the duo was split to opposite corners of the room. Like a scared animal, Sakamoto rammed the middle guard, knocking him to the ground.
"Come on, man, I ain't down for this shit. Let's get out here," motioning to Akira. One of the other guards though took the wind out of Sakamoto before he could make good on that promise. Kamoshida-in-robes was already in the cell and proceeded to hammer Sakamoto. After Sakamoto fell to the ground, the two remaining guards hoisted him up for Kamoshida-in-robes to continue hitting him in the torso. After a while, Kamoshida-in-robes was bored and jack-hammered Sakamoto the ground.
Seeing Sakamoto in pain...
Akira pondered what to do next. The world for him slowed down enough to let him think.
He couldn't salvage anything from his parents. Dad? No, what good would knowing how to fix a car do? Mom? I suppose, but for all Akira knew, their representations weren't willing to guide him.
Cmon, Akira screamed inside; DIG DEEPER.
At one time, uncle had said to calm the passions of one heart to enlighten oneself. Akira remembered to take a breath.
Then the echoes of his sister were coming. He could practically see her in the cell, tracksuit and all, yelling at him to break this asshole's nose and save this dude. She herself probably would shoot this dude.
"Please," Sakamoto grunted, overcoming his pain for a few seconds. "Get...out of here."
"What, are you going run?" said Kamoshida-in-robes, turning his attention to Akira. "What a heartless friend you are."
"He...isn't a friend," said Sakamoto. He turned his attention to Akira again. "Cmon! hurry up and GO!"
Akira's mind was swamped. Mom and dad now chimed in but were saying to go and not get yourself killed. Getting killed, 'Dad' thought, would put them in a worse situation than they'd ever had been in. And Mom...who knows how she would react. Sis would be on the verge of angry tears, yelling at the top of her teenage lungs to stop being a coward and save Sakamoto. His uncle...god knows what uncle would have done. Uncle was no hermit, but he was perhaps too cautious for his own good.
The voices were starting to turn into the loudest noise Akira has heard in a while.
CowardrunwhyareyousavinghimTHEYMEANBUSINESSgetoutofTHEREcautiondonttreadintoheavyWATERSAVEHIMSAVEHIMSAVEHIMSAVEHI-
Screw it.
It was at this time Kamoshida-in-robes was starting to notice the vicious scowl on Akira's face.
Akira was a bit out of shape between juvie and now. But Akira managed to kick the back of one of the guards and push the guard down to the ground. Next was that smug bastard Kamoshida. Kamoshida was startled and about to throw a punch at Akira.
Akira suddenly found his left arm outreached to meet Kamoshida's right hand. His dad was useful for something after all.
Akira's next move was something made up on the spot, partially inspired by watching too many fighting movies. He noticed his opponent was wearing only a pink speedo under his robe. Akira seized the day, and well...
Kicked him in the balls. Kamoshida went down pretty readily. Akira at this point felt obligated to grab this dick by his stupid frizzy curly hair and knee him in the face. All the meanwhile Sakamoto had his mouth gaping slightly.
The remaining guards though seized Akira readily and slammed him to the wall. Their arms were mechanical vises pressed on Akira's arms, ever increasing in pressure.
"You...sacrilegious FUCKER!" Kamoshida yelled in agony, noticeably oozing a black tar substance from his mouth and nose. "DO YOU KNOW WHO I AM? FINE! Have it your way! Execute the both of them. Sakamoto first, then this PEASANT."
Akira was helpless as he watched Sakamoto be tossed to the other end of the room. Another guard was drawing his sword, preparing to thrust.
A familiar voice called within Akira. A young-sounding girl.
"You are held captive. A prisoner of fate to a future that has been sealed in advance. This is truly an unjust game. Your chances of winning are almost none…But if my voice is reaching you, there may yet be a possibility open to you…"
A new voice followed. A darker voice. One of a demon.
"What's the matter...are you simply going to watch? Are you forsaking him to save yourself? Death awaits him if you do nothing. Was your previous decision a mistake?"
His mind flashed to that drunk prick back at his hometown. That woman, crying for help.
Of course it wasn't a mistake, he told himself.
His demon friend heard him loud and clearly, while Sakamoto was being dragged up the opposite wall by the neck.
"Very well, I have heeded your resolve."
An intense burning sensation was starting to radiate through Akira's body.
"Vow to me," his demon companion called. "I am thou, thou art I. Thou who art willing to perform all sacrilegious acts for thine own justice!"
Akira was starting to sweat profusely.
"Call upon my name...and release thy rage!"
Akira was now yelling at Kamoshida. "I will stop you...NO MATTER...WHAT!"
He had Kamoshida's attention. "Fine," Kamoshida replied. "You want to die so much? Have it your way." The guard hovering over Sakamoto drew its blade towards Akira.
"Show the strength of thy will to ascertain all on thine own, though thou be chained to Hell itself!" cried this inner voice of his.
The guard to the left of Akira punched him in the face so that his glasses fell. There was no holding back anymore.
The words "Arsene" flowed out of Akira's mouth.
Instantly, a gust pushed back everyone surrounding him, including Kamoshida. A masquerade mask was now fused onto Akira's eyes.
"Well, little bro," said another voice in Akira's mind. "Well, what are you waiting for?"
A devilish grin appeared on Akira's face; after all, he couldn't say no to her.
With superhuman strength, Akira tore off the mask and the skin under it to reveal a bloody mess around his orbits. And with it, a blue fire with a reddish grin began to swallow him. The fire started to drift upwards, revealing Akira, now with a long, black overcoat and black vest. Chains were popping out of his back to announce a winged devil in red gentleman's garb, hosting sharp, craggy fingers. From this winged demon, a cackling laugh began to spread from the room through all of the castle. Every guard, every prisoner was now at attention. At last, Akira had unlocked the power within to escape.
And take vengeance.
"Hmm," a voice in another cell said. "Perhaps I found my way out. I just hope my guess is right."