Akira froze as he watched his parents standing idly between him and the stairs. They were donned in the same uniforms as the guards, but beyond that, they looked the same as they had during the last day the trio spent together as a family. Namely, cold and disinterested. The slightly disgusted sneer that the effigy of his mother wore was an expression he'd seen a million times, along with the bland look in his father's grey eyes which was half-hidden by his wireframe glasses. Blood rushed through his ears, and Akira's brain felt like it was buzzing with static as he observed them. A sense of dreadful foreboding chewed its way through his stomach - just what on earth was going on here?
"… Akira?" Futaba's voice snapped him out of his stupor, concern burning the hacker's eyes. "Are you okay?"
He swallowed, palms suddenly feeling sweaty. There was no way in hell she hadn't noticed the similarities between him and the guards. While logically, the frizzy-haired teen knew they couldn't literally be his parents – even if Tasogare no Dorobō was somehow capable of summoning them here all the way from his podunk hometown, they'd never agree to participate in this charade – they looked so real it was unnerving.
"I'm alright. It's fine. Let's go." He gritted his teeth. "Be on your guard – I think this is gonna end in a fight."
Akira squared his shoulders and marched towards his parents, his hands curling into fists. If this was the real world, his Reiatsu would have been buzzing like a livewire – the frizzy-haired teen was keenly aware that the slightest push would make him blow up. For once, however, he embraced the rage and fear crackling through his veins – if Futaba was right about how combat worked in this world, his defiance might be the only thing that saved his life.
It was his mother who noticed him first. "You." She hissed, eyes narrowing to slits. "Haven't you dragged our family name through the mud enough already?! Assault and battery were bad enough – now you're trying to escape from prison too?!"
Languidly, his father cradled his stun baton in his free hand. When he spoke, his voice was a sigh. "I think it's time I taught you a lesson. This foolish rebellion has gone on long enough."
They stepped forward, his father's face a stone wall while his mother's warped into a bestial scowl.
"Your words can't hurt me anymore!" Akira snarled as he slipped into a fighting stance. "I'd rather fight for justice and be reviled for it, than be loved for being a dishonourable coward!"
With a banshee-like screech, his mother charged, her form flickering slightly as her claws grew and teeth sharpened. Despite that though, the woman's form was sloppy, and Akira quickly sidestepped away from her wild blow before planting his fist into her stomach. As his false mother buckled over, wheezing, he grimaced, conflicted. The fragile bond connecting Akira to his parents had been severed months ago, but even then, he still felt uncomfortable watching something wearing his mother's face contort with pain.
He had no time to dwell on his feelings through, as the frizzy-haired teen's father lunged towards him, swinging his baton down at frightening speeds. Acting on pure instinct, Akira ripped the baton out of his mother's hands and parried the blow, knees buckling under his father's might.
"Futaba, make sure she stays down!" He ordered, turning his full focus back to his father the second he heard her yell in agreement.
I am not afraid of you. Akira narrowed his eyes. I don't regret saving that woman, even if it means you two will never forgive me. I know what it feels like to have a family now, something I never learnt when I lived with you.
With a surge of strength, he pushed forward, turning the tables. Now, it was his father's turn to strain under the strength of his blow. The older man's face twisted in exertion, a manic edge entering his eyes, but Akira continued to press down. Yielding here was not an option - it never was. Eventually, his father's strength crumbled, and the black-haired teen knocked the baton straight out of his hand before kneeing him in the stomach and cracking his weapon down on the man's head.
The second the effigy of his father hit the floor, it disappeared into motes of darkness like the guards had prior. Simultaneously, his mother did the same from where she was pinned under Futaba. Whatever triumph Akira felt at his victory quickly faded into horror as it finally dawned on him that the hacker had seen that. A wave of shame swept through him – there was no way Futaba hadn't put two-and-two together about his relationship with his parents by now.
"They… they never hit me. Not in reality." Akira clarified, swallowing the awful lump that had formed at the back of his throat.
It took a few seconds for Futaba to respond, and when she did, her voice was quiet. "… Uncle Youji did if I complained too much about feeling hungry or dirty."
Akira stilled. While Sojiro always glossed over the time between Wakaba's death and his adoption of Futaba, he'd dropped hints that it hadn't been good. A moment of quiet understanding passed between the two teens, and for a moment, Akira contemplated patting her shoulder, but held back at the last second. Somehow, it just didn't feel right.
"… Come on. Let's get out of this place."
Neither of them spoke about the encounter as they silently walked up the spiralling stairs to the next level of the prison. As they finally reached the next floor – the one theoretically based on Shujin – Akira felt nothing but relief. The sooner he got away from the memories of his parents, the better.
When he saw what was waiting for them though, Akira blinked in surprise. He'd assumed the only thing the second story of the prison would share in common with his school was the layout, and would otherwise be much like the prior floor - sterile and empty. The frizzy-haired teen never would have guessed that it'd be filled with students, each wearing a prison uniform identical to Akira's own. The imprisoned teens walked in clusters, whispering to each other as they hurried from room to room. A singular guard oversaw the students – a monster instead of a person again, thankfully – and watched its wards with indifference.
When the guard's masked face passed over where the duo was standing though, it stiffened, before marching their way. Akira braced himself, ready for a fight, but when it was a couple of metres away from them, the guard came to a halt.
"Oi, move it!" It called, voice distorted. "No loitering in the halls!"
"Uh, sorry." Akira blinked mawkishly, caught off-guard. For a split second, its voice sounded uncannily like one of Shujin's guidance officers.
Hurriedly glancing around, he saw several prisoners shuffle into a room located where the school shop should have been, and decided that was as good a place as any to plan their next steps. Grabbing Futaba's hands, he led the way. As he swung open the doors, Akira blinked as he realised he'd walked into a cafeteria. Rows of plain plastic tables filled the room while students ate together, some fetching trays of slop from an aproned monster who warily eyed the prisoner-students from behind the kitchen counter. Spotting a table that was practically empty, Akira marched its way.
As he progressed through the café, however, he almost stumbled when he walked right past Kawakami, who for some reason was wearing a prisoner's uniform like the rest of the students. Doing a double-take, Akira rubbed his eyes and scanned over his fellow inmates again. Now that he was paying attention to it, the Shinigami noticed that while there was a disproportionate number of teenage prisoners, there were adults and even a few children mingled into the mix. Perhaps if the last floor had represented his life in general before his arrest, this one symbolised his time in Tokyo, instead of just Shujin specifically?
He couldn't speculate for long, however, as it seemed the prisoners had finally noticed his presence.
"No way, is that him? I thought he was meant to be in solitary confinement!"
"I bet he's smuggling drugs. I mean, just look at him."
"Who's that chick with him? You don't think he's pimping her out, right?"
Akira ignored the flicker of anger that the last comment caused him – by now, he'd had over half a year of experience in brushing off baseless rumours.
Futaba stared at the students and squeezed in closer to Akira's side. "H-hold on... are they all talking about you?"
The older teen shrugged. "It's nothing worse than what I normally hear at school – the Shujin gossip mill is brutal. Hell, I think I even heard someone speculating that Makoto covered up Kamoshida's abuse once."
"… Do you think I could sweet-talk Sojiro into sending me to Kosei instead?" The hacker shuddered.
"It's not all bad – Ann and Ryuji will still be here next year. Though, if you went to Kosei, I guess you'd have Yusuke for company…"
Futaba narrowed her eyes. "He sounds suss."
Akira gave her a slight smile, but it quickly vanished as yet another voice echoed across the cafeteria. While the tone and cadence could have belonged to any Shujin student, the content made his blood run cold.
"I don't know why Sakamoto and Takamaki hang out with him – he's so pathetic."
"He snitched on them to Akechi, right? They deserve better friends than a bootlicker."
His breath hitched in his throat. Picking up his pace, he hurried away from the offending voices and plonked himself down in a free seat, a cautious Futaba quickly joining him.
"Right, let's go over the map one more time. I think if we keep moving, the guards will ignore us – they don't seem to be able to tell the difference between us and the other prisoners." Akira speculated loudly in an attempt to drown out the gossip surrounding him.
"That checks out – if act like you're meant to be there, people won't think you're suspicious at all." Futaba murmured, unfolding the map. "If we take this corridor, it looks like a straight shot to the exit – it's a long walk, but no worse than the courtyard we ran through before."
Akira nodded, eminently relieved to have an excuse to get out of the cafeteria. "Let's go – I'm pretty sure that the 'food' they're serving here is probably radioactive."
Marching briskly, he ignored Futaba's cry to slow down as he hurried out of the room. The second he left the dining hall, a knot of tension that had formed in the Shinigami's shoulders loosened. That was excruciating. The sooner I'm out of here, the better.
Of course, Akira was a fool to think that the cafeteria was the only part of the prison designed to be his perfect hell. Rounding the corner, he stumbled to a halt and let out an involuntary gasp as he saw two mops of blonde hair interrupting the dull sea of beige and black. Everything seemed to crawl to a halt as his eyes drilled into the backs of the prisoner versions of Ryuji and Ann. Ducking back around the corner, Akira swallowed, heart hammering. Had they seen him?!
He was so caught up in his panic that he didn't notice Futaba had finally caught up to him until the girl hissed, eyes wide as she ogled the blondes. "… Those aren't the real Ryuji and Ann, right?"
Mouth as dry as a stone, Akira nodded. Despite his misgivings, he couldn't help but poke his head back around the corner, a mixture of trepidation and hunger gripping him at the sight of his friends. He knew deep down inside that this was a bad idea, but the teen couldn't look away.
The cognitive Ryuji's shoulders slumped, and Akira could vividly picture his mulish scowl. "Did ya hear? Akira's out of solitary, apparently. Not that he told me that, mind you."
"Wait, seriously?!" Ann gawped, an expression that was so vividly her Akira felt like he'd been punched in the face. "Hasn't he learnt his lesson already?"
"Doesn't look like it." Her fellow prisoner scuffed his foot against the ground. "I thought he was so cool at first, but look at him now! He keeps screwin' us over again and again – for fuck's sake, look where we are! Don't the Phantoms mean anything to him?!"
Blood running cold, Akira instinctively took a step backwards.
"Yeah." The blonde furrowed her brows. "If he was worthy of being our leader, he'd have actually been there for us, instead of ditching us in favour of Akechi." The last word came out as a disgusted drawl.
Ryuji stomped a foot menacingly. "If Akira knows what's good for him, he better stay away – I'm not gonna let his personal problems keep draggin' us down."
Each word that came from his friends' mouths stabbed into the frizzy-haired teen like a knife straight to the guts. He knew it. He knew they'd hate him once they found out what he'd done. That underneath the coy jokes and confident mask, Akira was nobody. No, worse than that - he was nothing but a shallow monster. The world began to blur as his breathing began to speed up, his gasps turning into wheezes as the teenager started to hyperventilate. As he continued to spiral, Akira barely registered the hands shaking his shoulder.
"… 'kira? … Akira!" Eventually, a voice cut through the haze that engulfed him like a knife, and snapping back to reality, he met Futaba's wide, concerned eyes. "Just, uh… breathe in, breathe out, okay? Come on, after me – take a deep breath in… take a deep breath out…"
His brain was too scrambled to do anything but follow the hacker's instructions, and slowly but surely, Akira began to pull the fractured shards of his psyche back together. Once clarity finally returned to him, he noticed Futaba was watching him with a creased brow. Cheeks flushing red in embarrassment, he diverted his gaze. His parents were one thing, but this?
She'd seen just how weak she was, and now she'd leave him, just like he deserved.
"Um. Well." The hacker mumbled, watching him like a dog that was a known bite risk. "I think I get what Tasogare no Dorobō meant when he said your heart was distorted." She frowned, expression darkening. "Just… w-watch this, okay?"
Glumly, he nodded. It wasn't like he had any right to defy her, anyway. As Futaba marched straight up to the cognitive versions of Ann and Ryuji though, Akira froze. What if they hurt her? He couldn't just stand there and do nothing! His fear was unneeded, however - the second they saw the younger girl, both of the prisoners' prior anger faded, and they greeted her like… well, how Ryuji and Ann would greet Futaba.
"Yo!" Ryuji grinned. "What are you doing here? You never leave your cell by yourself."
"Ryuji!" Ann hissed, giving him a sharp elbow before turning back to Futaba with a smile. "What he meant to say was it's nice to see you out and about! Finally ready to join the rest of us prisoners?"
"… Uh, no comment." Futaba blinked slowly, before mustering her courage. "Do you two think I'm a pain?"
Twin looks of confusion crossed the blondes' faces.
"Um, no? Why would I?" Ryuji scratched the back of his head, baffled.
The model's brow creased as she watched her younger friend in concern. "… Is someone being mean to you? If you need help, we're here for you."
"Nah – just testing something." Futaba shrugged, before turning back to Ryuji. "Do you think my social anxiety – uh, shyness in layman's terms – is a pain in the ass?"
He wrinkled his nose. "I mean… you're a little bit weird, sure, but you're my friend. Why would I be angry at you for that?"
The hacker gave a decisive nod, before turning to face Ann. "When we have Phantoms celebrations, do you think it's annoying we can't go anywhere with too many people since I freak out in large crowds?"
Ann's blue eyes were troubled. "I like large celebrations, sure, but I'd rather do smaller things and have you come – we're not the Phantoms without you!"
"Ryuji – do you think I'm useless because I can't fight?"
"What?! Hell no!" He snarled. "You're the most helpful Phantom there is! If it wasn't for your tech, I'd never have been able to fight along with everyone else!"
"Brilliant – that should be enough data." Futaba nodded, before turning away. "I'll see you later."
As the hacker marched back to Akira, the two prisoners exchanged an odd glance. Ryuji then shrugged, and the duo continued their journey to wherever they were heading before Akira stumbled across them.
"What was that about?" The frizzy-haired teen furrowed his brow as the hacker joined his side. She'd clearly been asking all those questions for a reason, but why?
Akira would never forget the look on Futaba's face as she stared at him. "Isn't it obvious? You believe Ryuji and Ann accept me, faults and all… so why do you think they wouldn't do the same thing for you?"
He reeled backwards, winded. Hurried, Akira shook his head. "I-it's not the same. I'm the leader of the Phantoms. I need to be better."
He couldn't let them down. He couldn't let them get hurt. That didn't stop a voice in the back of his head from whispering though aren't you already doing that, acting like this?
Futaba frowned. "You're not just our leader, though – you're our friend." A look of determination then flashed across the hacker's face, and she grabbed his hand with surprising force. "Come on – we're rounding up the crew!"
"… Pardon?" Akira blinked, stumbling as she dragged him through the prison.
"You heard me!" Futaba yelled. "Oi – where does Makoto hang out most of the time?"
"Uh, in the library." He blinked, dazed.
Thankfully, the layout of the prison wasn't too complicated, and the occasional guards they passed seemed happy to ignore them. Eventually, the frizzy-haired teen spotted a familiar brunette standing by a worn, off-green door – presumably, it led to the prison's equivalent of Shujin's library. The second he laid eyes on his friend, who stood ramrod straight, not a single hair out of place despite her prison stripes, Akira screeched to a halt despite Futaba's pulling. It was bad enough that Ann and Ryuji had confirmed his worst nightmares – he didn't need to hear the same thing coming from Makoto.
As he hesitated, Futaba turned around to face him with a huff. "You need to do this, Akira. Don't you owe it to Makoto, at the very least?"
He winced as the hacker landed a critical hit. Mustering his nerves, he gave Futaba a faltering nod before walking towards the student council president. As he grew closer, Akira's instincts screamed at him to run – the exit wasn't that far away, right? Before he could cave, however, Makoto's heavy gaze suddenly landed on him, and he knew there would be no escape. In contrast to the anger Ryuji and Ann showed, however, as she looked at him, the brunette simply seemed tired.
"Oh, it's you." Sighing, she looked away. "Haven't you caused enough trouble? All I wanted was your help with Haru, but you went completely off the rails! Because of you, she almost turned us into the authorities! I thought you would take some of the burdens off my shoulders, Akira, not add on even more."
"I… I'm sorry." He flinched. "You're right. I was being a single-minded asshole, and almost got us all arrested because of it. I… I really didn't mean to cause you any stress."
Makoto, however, continued to look fundamentally unimpressed. "Really? You're not acting that remorseful. If you were, you wouldn't have worked with Akechi."
As her voice grew sharper and sharper, something about the false student council president suddenly seemed off. For a moment, Makoto's skin seemed to ripple, and darkness seeped into the corridor. Before things could escalate though, Futaba quickly hurried to Akira's side, and the hallway lightened again like a cloud had moved away from the sun as Makoto gave her a surprised bow of greeting.
"Okay, okay, time out." With a huff, the hacker shook her head, arching an unimpressed brow Akira before hissing into his ear. "Your characterisation of Makoto is more off than spoiled milk. That's not her at all – she's all calm and logic, not passive-aggressiveness and spite! Besides… she's being a bit hypocritical, isn't she? Like, she spent several months getting on your case after Ann's best friend killed herself. Throwing stones in a glass house, much?"
A record scratched in Akira's mind as his brain did a funny little somersault. On one hand, he had flubbed up the situation with Haru, big time – why would Makoto forgive him for that? At the same time… he knew his fellow Phantom wasn't a hypocrite. She'd made mistakes in the past, yes, but she'd acknowledged them and grown into one of the greatest people he knew.
The student council president suddenly sighed again, jarring Akira out of his thoughts. This time, instead of disappointed, Makoto's expression was melancholy. "I know you're not a bad person, Akira." She stated with so much conviction, he could do nothing but gape. "You've made a lot of poor decisions lately, that's true, but… you can learn from them and become someone better, just like I did."
Akira watched in shock as the student council president gently rose off the ground, a soft blue light enveloping her and she began to fade away. As the brunette disappeared, a gentle chime rang through the air, almost the same way it did when he performed Konsō.
The duo's eyes lingered on where the brunette had once stood, but eventually, Futaba broke the silence. "Well, I dunno exactly what that was about, but… I think it was a good thing? Let's find the others – they should all be here somewhere!"
Pursing his lips, Akira began to ponder. Was Futaba dragging him around to see the other Phantoms because she thought his view of them was twisted? That they were the cause of the 'distortion' Tasogare no Dorobō had rambled on about? Maybe that was why Makoto disappeared – because Akira had finally seen the real her. He couldn't but feel unsettled by the idea. He'd thought he'd known his friends like the back of his hand – had he been mistaken?
He didn't have the time to mull over it for long, however, as they found the next Phantom in a matter of seconds. Poking their heads into the library, Akira immediately saw Uryū sitting near the back of the room, book in hand.
Futaba gave him an encouraging nod. "Don't worry – I've got your back. Together, I'm sure we can handle this mini-boss!"
Akira gave her a smile which probably looked a bit queasy judging by the way his stomach was flipping, but it wasn't entirely fake. While he was apprehensive as he approached the Quincy, for the first time since his disastrous encounter with Ryuji and Ann, Akira felt something almost resembling hope. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad – while Uryū was a friend, he wasn't a founding member of the Phantoms, and didn't have quite so many stakes in Akira's personal issues on the whole.
The Quincy's lips curled as he approached, and Akira sighed, readying himself. "Whatever you're gonna say, just spit it out."
"Fine." Uryū closed his book firmly and gave a haughty sniff. "My hometown is going to be destroyed, everyone inside it murdered, yet you can't get your act together! How can I rely on you when your inner Hollow is eagerly waiting to hurt us all the second you let down your guard?"
Akira faltered, stumped. In hindsight, he supposed Uryū's cutting words shouldn't have caught him off-guard. The Quincies' primary purpose was to destroy Hollows, after all, and that's what Akira was, wasn't it?
Again, Futaba came to his rescue. "That's not true – Uryū didn't give a rat's ass when your inner Hollow hurt him, remember? The only one of us who cared was you. Plus… think about the day we went to the beach. He was just as happy as the rest of us to relax for a bit. H-he has faith in you, Akira! You just need to open your eyes and see that!"
Doubt settled into his stomach as his gaze flickered between the hacker and the Quincy. He… he supposed she wasn't wrong, but hadn't Uryū just been underreacting? Unless... unless she was right. A treacherous voice in the back of his mind whispered. Maybe it genuinely wasn't a big deal, and you catastrophised it into a disaster since YOU were the one upset that you were part Hollow. An image of the night Uryū scattered the Hollow bait flickered into Akira's mind - of the Quincy willingly accepting both his and Akechi's aid in order to kill the Menos Grande. Surely Uryū wouldn't have done that if he was that prejudiced against Hollows.
Still… simply accepting that felt wrong. (Akira wasn't meeting his own standards – why should his friends be alright with that?)
"You're so melodramatic at times." Uryū stood up, pushing up his glasses. "As much as I'd like to fight by your side and prove my Master's teachings to the world, I'm no fragile maiden – I don't need your help to save Karakura." His expression softened. "Though, I would appreciate it."
With that, the Quincy disappeared into scattered blue light, and some of the ever-present weight crushing down on Akira's shoulders lightened.
"Come on!" Futaba beamed, eyes glowing with delight as Uryū was freed from the prison. "Let's make like a hedgehog and roll on out of here!"
Unfortunately, hunting down the next members of the Phantoms proved to be more difficult. Even though the idea of seeing the prisoner version of Ryuji again made him ill, Akira understood it was a necessity. When they went to the exercise yard, however, he couldn't even catch a glimpse of the blond. Finding Ann turned out to be equally fruitless – the prison equivalent of Class 2-D was empty except for a uniformed Mishima, who was sitting down on the edge of a bunkbed.
Unlike everyone else, when he saw Akira, a smile crossed his face. "Ignore what the haters say!" Mishima beamed, patting the other teen's shoulder. "I'll always have your back!"
"Uh, thanks?" Akira blinked, baffled, and the prisoner Mishima disappeared into motes of blue light.
As much as he sorely needed the pep talk though, the frizzy-haired teen couldn't help but feel a bit guilty. Despite their rocky start, Mishima had been a fervent Phantoms supporter ever since Kamoshida cracked, and none of the negative press had changed his mind. But then again, why would it? It wasn't like Mishima knew the real Akira after all – only the glamorised version that was no more substantial than any of the other rumours infesting Shujin.
Then tell him. An idea dawned on Akira. Reveal to him the truth, and let him make up his own mind about how he truly feels about you.
If confronting Uryū had lifted a weight off his back, deciding to be honest with Mishima once he returned to reality lifted twenty. When the Shinigami left Class 2-D, he felt lighter than he had in months.
It was true – Akira had fucked up. That was undeniable, but maybe… just maybe, that didn't have to be the end of everything.
Given Ann and Ryuji's locations were still unknown, the duo ended up just poking their heads into every room they passed, and running away from the guards if they got too suspicious. Bolting around the corner after they'd invoked one of the monster's ire, Akira quickly ducked into the staff room, and exchanged a cheeky grin with Futaba. Life or death stakes or not, this was actually kind of fun when there was no psychological torture involved.
It was then though that he caught a flicker of silver in the corner of his eyes, and whirled around to see Sae. She wasn't the only prisoner of note hanging out in the teacher's lounge – sitting at one of the tables was Sojiro, who was sipping coffee out of a bland plastic mug. Akira blinked, having trouble parsing the odd scene in front of him. As out of place as the duo looked in Shujin, he supposed if they had to appear anywhere, it would be here.
After a moment's deliberation, he approached Sae first, if only because she was closer.
Crossing her arms, the prosecutor arched a brow as she saw him, and Akira wilted at her expression. "Oh, it's you. I told you not to do anything stupid, so, what did you do…?"
Wincing, he scratched the back of his head. "Uh, something stupid?"
"Yes, Kurusu-kun. Thank you for clarifying that."
Honestly… that just sounds like something Sae-san WOULD say to me. Akira exchanged a glance with Futaba, who winced - judging by her expression, the hacker was thinking much the same thing. Still… there had to be more to it, right? There was something he was missing about the woman – something that caused his view of her to be distorted…
Realisation then flashed in his mind like a lightbulb. Yes, Sae was absolutely the sort of person who'd snap at him for getting himself into this clusterfuck. At the same time though, Akira didn't think that was the sort of person she wanted to be. He'd touched her heart, after all, and knew that even though she could be harsh and cold, when things came down to the wire, Sae ultimately wanted to be someone good.
"I'm sorry. That was uncalled for." The prosecutor sighed before he could even say anything, shoulders slumping. "As much as I want you to take Shido down, I don't want you to die for it, okay? Please, be safe."
With that, she faded into glittering light, leaving Sojiro as the only other person of interest in the room. When Akira approached the elderly barista, it was with full confidence.
Sojiro's expression didn't turn angry when he saw the black-haired teen, merely disappointed. Tutting, he shook his head. "I can't believe it… I thought you were a good kid – how on earth did you end up getting yourself wrapped up in all this? Defamation, suicide, murder… and if that's not enough, you just had to get Futaba caught up in it too!"
"Oh, get off it." Futaba pouted, poking a finger at her adoptive father's chest. "First of all, Ryuji was my way into the Phantoms, not Akira. Secondly, I was gonna get involved in all of this anyway. Isn't it better that I did it with friends?"
"I… suppose?" Sojiro blinked, caught off-guard. With a sigh, he turned back to Akira. "Sheesh, kids these days… keep an eye on her, yeah?" The barista's expression softened.
"Of course I will." Akira smiled. "She's my family too."
The cognitive Sojiro vanished, leaving just three Phantoms left. In the end, they found the prisoner version of Futaba first. It turned out Akira's brain had slotted her into one of the first-year classrooms – or to be more accurate, first-year cells. As the prisoner Futaba looked up at him with her big, brown eyes, she gave him an impish smirk before winking. The hacker didn't even say a word before disappearing into motes of light. As her prisoner counterpart faded, the real Futaba gave his hand a tight squeeze. After a moment's hesitation, Akira returned the gesture. Over the last few hours, she'd seen the worst of him – his lies, insecurities, weaknesses, and failings. Instead of abandoning him, however, she had insisted he move forward and had stood by his side as he faced everything he hated about himself.
"Thanks. For being here." Akira swallowed.
"Eh. It's no biggie." While she kept her voice light, it was clear she understood the emotional weight of his words. The hacker's expression then turned troubled. "We've looked everywhere, but we haven't seen hide or hair of Ryuji and Ann for ages."
Akira narrowed his eyes. "Actually, I think I know exactly where they are."
Leaving the first-year cells, the frizzy-haired teen strode through the Palace, heading towards the doors that would lead them out of Shujin and into the final stretch of the prison. Futaba followed half a step behind him as the idle chatter of the fake students slowly began to fade. The last segment of the corridor was dead silent – there weren't even any guards standing by, fondling their stun batons menacingly. Instead, the dull beige hallway went on seemingly forever, the static flicker of the fluorescent lights the only sound except from their echoing footsteps.
Just because the corridor was quiet, however, didn't mean it was empty. By the prison's door stood two teens in striped uniforms, both with distinctive blonde hair. Akira wasn't at all surprised to see Ryuji and Ann waiting for him. They were his final challenge, after all. At least for now, anyway.
As the two prisoners watched him warily, Futaba shot him a smile. "You've got this. Everyone's been relying on you all this time – you can lean on us too."
"Right." Akira smiled weakly\ before mustering his courage.
It was Ryuji he approached first. As he got closer, the delinquent narrowed his eyes, but they were more cautious than hostile. "What do you want?"
"I…" Akira's voice trailed off, before he straightened his shoulders. "Remember when you told me about your temper – how sometimes, everything just gets too much and you lose control? That you were worried one day you'd hurt your friends, or that something like the Kamoshida incident would happen again?"
Ryuji warily shuffled on his feet. "What's that gotta do with anything?"
"Well… I think I'm the same way. There's always been something dark inside me – I almost killed Renji when I first met him, and I didn't even care. My inner Hollow, though… it's made it grow. I couldn't control it, and… and I was scared. I was so worried that I'd hurt one of you guys, I pushed you all away."
The delinquent crossed his arms, mulling things over. "… You know what you need to do more? Running. Seriously – two rounds around the track, and all those shitty emotions just fade away."
Akira laughed – it wasn't even good advice, but it was so quintessentially Ryuji it hurt. "Oh, what the hell – how about once all this drama is over, we do a few laps together?"
Leaning forward, Ryuji held out his hand for a high-five. "Sounds good, Akira! Remember – no take backsies!"
Slapping his friend's palm, the boys exchanged a grin, and slowly, Ryuji began to fade away. After sparing a moment to collect himself, Akira turned to face the last of the Phantoms – Ann.
The blonde must have overheard at least some of his conversation with Ryuji, and she immediately cut straight to the point. "I'm annoyed with you. For months now, you've been avoiding us, brushing us off, or ditching us whenever you could. In a way, that almost hurt even more than all the secrets – do you know how excited Futaba and Ryuji were to show you their latest invention?"
Akira winced, glancing over to the younger teen, who'd frowned deeply at Ann's reminder. "I… I'm sorry about that day, Futaba. To be perfectly blunt, I was being a tool."
"Yeah, you kinda were." She shrugged. "It hurt, but… I'll forgive you - I know you were going through some shit. Just... be better from now on, yeah?"
"I will be." He stated firmly. "I... won't keep it to myself if I'm in over my head again, I promise."
"I'll be better too." Ann spoke up, and while her expression was still harsh, her words were genuine. "I know things have been rough for you lately. That doesn't make the way you've been acting okay, but I can understand why you've done what you've done. The fact that you weren't comfortably telling us about your problems, though... it just means we need to show you we care more, don't we?"
Akira swallowed, tongue heavy, as a sinking weight settled into his stomach. "Oh Ann, that's not true. You never did anything wrong. This was never about you - it was about me."
All this time, he'd thought his friends would leave him if he told them the truth - that Joker wasn't as confident as he acted, that he was in over his head and couldn't see any way out but down... but by thinking that, he'd betrayed the Phantoms even worse than he had when he made his deal with Akechi. By projecting his doubt and insecurity onto his friends, unwittingly or not, he had started viewing the first people who had ever shown him unconditional love and kindness as shallow, fickle things. Akira had turned the people he believed he thought the world of into monsters in his own mind, and that was doing them the greatest disservice imaginable.
The prisoner gave him a smile that was both sweet and sad. "Oh, Akira… no matter what, we'll always be there for you, alright?"
"… Yeah, I know." Akira spoke, and for the first time, truly believed it.
On cue, the blonde faded into motes of light. With the prisoner versions of Ann and Ryuji both banished from his inner world – or more to be more accurate, released – there was nothing between the two teens and the building's exit. Still, despite the peacefulness he felt, Akira knew not to let his guard down – they still needed to cross over the yard and reach the circuit breaker, and the frizzy-haired teen had the sneaking suspicion he knew what he and Futaba were going to face next.
Slipping out of the prison, a cold wind swept through the air and Akira shuddered, Futaba doing the same to the side. The sky was obscured by heavy, thick clouds, and the rugged wasteland before them was less a yard and more a battlefield – barbed wire trenches donned the land as spotlights shone down from watchtowers, hunting for any prey who dared to leave the compound. Still, that wasn't a challenge they were going to face today, at least, not yet. Escape alone was not enough – they needed to bring this place to its knees first.
Creeping around the side of the prison, the clouds must have parted slightly, as when they rounded the corner and saw the narrow spit of land between them and the circuit breaker, Akira froze in his tracks. While it might have been bathed in moonlight as opposed to the middle of the day, he would recognise the flat plains of the Sōkyoku Hill anywhere – it was etched in his nightmares frequently enough, after all.
Bracing himself, he turned to face Futaba. "Hey. I know what's coming up next – it's not going to be pleasant, and I… I feel like I need to face this alone." She couldn't save Akira from this – he had to save himself.
Tentatively, Futaba brushed her fingers against his arm. "Uh, well, you're the boss here, but… if you change your mind, just gimme a yell. I-I'll be there for you, no matter what!"
"… I will, and I know." He gave her a shaky smile. "Why don't you keep an eye on my back while I take the lead?"
After a moment, she grinned. "Yeah! Kinda like I'm the support party member!"
"Exactly." Akira laughed, ruffling her hair.
Taking a deep breath in and out, the Shinigami strode forward. He'd barely taken several steps before the rustle of fabric and a flicker of movement caught his attention. Flicking his head to the side, he met Kurusu Rukia's gaze for several long seconds. Unlike the other prisoners, she was wearing the same pale white robe she had been on the day of her execution, and even in the moonlight, the blood staining it glistened a sickly red. Finally processing his presence, Rukia scrambled back, eyes wide in terror, and Akira could almost feel the weight of his Hollow mask on his face.
He stepped towards her. "I'm strong enough not to hurt you anymore."
As she stared at him, violet eyes still wide, Akira felt a wave of disgust. Rukia was one of the bravest people he knew – by viewing her as this weak, pathetic creature, he was basically spitting on the woman who'd saved his life.
"… But I don't think I was ever strong enough to hurt you in the first place – not in any way that mattered." Akira concluded, and Rukia glowed, giving him one last smirk before fading away.
Even though the Lieutenant and her bloodstained robes had vanished, as he advanced down Sōkyoku Hill, the scent of rust lingering in the air only grew stronger. As the small shed containing the circuit breaker grew closer and closer, he spotted rivulets of dark liquid staining the dusty floor. Finally, Akira reached the building's side, and the source of the blood became readily apparent. Slumped against the shed was Abarai Renji, Tasogare no Dorobō's flamberge form embedded deep into his abdomen. The redhead wheezed, cracking open a bleary eye as a silent Akira marched to his side.
Taking in a deep breath, he ripped his blade out of the now-Captain's stomach. Leaning down, the green glow of Kaidō illuminated the prison yard as Akira stitched the wound in Renji's stomach shut. "I really can't apologise to you enough. I was so desperate, I succumbed to a part of myself I'm not proud of, and because of that, you got hurt. I can't change the past, but I can be stronger in the future. I won't hurt anyone I care about again."
No more lies, no more secrecy, no more poorly thought-out decisions – no more believing that the fate of the world lies in my hands alone.
As Renji faded away, Akira turned around and called out to Futaba, who'd followed him at a distance. "Come on. Let's finish this."
"Right!" She cheered, pumping her fist in the air. "Just need to go around the other side of the shed, pull some levers, and we'll reach the level's end!"
Together, they rounded the corrugated iron shed's side. Attached to the back of the building was a small metal box – even in the low lighting, Akira could see some wires poking out underneath it. An excited squeal escaped Futaba's mouth as she rushed forward, but she'd barely taken several steps before the shed's long shadow started to bubble.
"Futaba, watch out!" He yelled, quickly snatching her up and leaping out of the darkness as the world rumbled around them.
A tornado of inky shadows and crimson flame exploded from the ground with so much force Akira was almost sent flying. Despite the frantic wind lashing at him, however, he stayed firm, and as the motes of darkness dispersed, they revealed a familiar figure.
Tasogare no Dorobō loomed before them, golden eyes glistening as black ichor dripped off his wings. The Zanpakutō spirit held his Shikai's flamberge form, identical to the one in Akira's hand. The frizzy-haired narrowed his eyes. It looks like Futaba's earlier video game analogies were a bit more apt than either of them expected – it looked like they'd just stumbled across the final boss.
"I guess it's gonna take more than some idle chatter to get through to you?" Akira quipped, voice artificially light.
He'd never actually truly won in combat against the Zanpakutō spirit before, and he sincerely doubted he was capable of tricking himself into genuinely believing this was going to be an easy battle. Even if Akira told himself repeatedly that he was invincible as long as his spirits stayed firm, he doubted his instincts would agree with his bluster when Tasogare no Dorobō swung his blade down at him.
The demonic man rumbled in reply, sword pointed straight at his weilder. "Thou art not wrong. Mere words are meaningless, Akira – the only thing that matters in this world is action!"
With a flap of his wings, the Zanpakutō spirit lunged forward. Akira was ready for him, however, and parried his blow. The impact sent vibrations running down his blade and through his bones, but the black-haired teen shrugged it off. Furrowing his brows, he concentrated. I know I can wield this blade – I've done it countless times before! On cue, the ache in his arms vanished, and Akira started his counterattack. Zanpakutō and master slashed at each other, trapped in a deadly dance where one misstep would spell death. Akira slipped seamlessly into the rhythm of combat, countering one strike before attempting to pierce Tasogare no Dorobō's chest. In a way, it was almost cathartic – how long had it been since Akira had been able to enjoy the thrill of a battle without being weighed down by his worries?
Unsurprisingly, the spirit countered his blow, but Akira was undeterred. Heart skipping a beat, he swept his foot into Tasogare no Dorobō's legs, sending the Zanpakutō stumbling. Instantly, Akira stabbed downward. Instead of hitting flesh, however, Tasogare no Dorobō rolled out of the way, before floating into the air with a flap of his wings.
"You cannot beat me, Akira – because I art thou, and thou art I!" He taunted, a golden light beginning to form in his mouth.
Cursing, Akira leapt out of the way as the Cero blasted the spot he'd been standing at a mere moment ago. He barely got a second's breathing room before Tasogare no Dorobō shot another beam of light straight at him. Gritting his teeth, Akira raced over his options. Using his Shikai's grappling hook was out – the prison's walls had no ridges to latch on too, and the shed was far too small to lift him to the Zanpakutō's height. He attempted to cast a Byakurai, but without the familiar warmth of his Reiryoku running through his veins it just felt wrong, and he wasn't at all surprised when the most he managed to conjure was sparks.
It was at that moment that Futaba chucked a decently sized rock at the Zanpakutō. "Think fast, bird brain!"
Akira gawped as the boulder whacked Tasogare no Dorobō straight in the noggin, causing the Zanpakutō spirit to falter mid-air. Unfortunately, he wasn't stunned for long though and quickly shot a Cero Futaba's way, forcing the girl to duck behind the shed with a squeak.
"Thee dare hide behind that girl like a shield?!" The spirit cried. "Pathetic! You spent so much time fretting over these fragile bonds of yours, they make you frail in return!"
Images flashed into Akira's mind. Rukia, sacrificing herself for two mortal boys she didn't even know. Makoto, facing down a Hollow she could barely even see to protect a group of people she didn't even like. Uryū, asking for the aid of his sworn enemy and a Hollow to right the wrongs he'd caused. Ann and Ryuji, abandoning their humanity to save their dear friend. Even Akechi drifted into his thoughts - a lonely boy with a heart consumed by rage and vengeance who had finally drawn a line in the sand, even if he was just a little bit too late.
"… You're wrong. My bonds don't hold me back – they grant me my strength! I never would have found my justice if it was not for my friends!" He roared. "Futaba, I need your help!"
"Uh, I'm kinda trying already, bro!"
He ignored her, however, and as he shouted again, the hacker's eyes widened with shock.
"Rukia, I need your help!"
For a moment, there was silence. But then, she answered him.
Leaping out of nowhere, the Shinigami landed on the dusty floor with grace. It was not the real Rukia, of course, but given the way she stood tall despite her diminutive height, violet eyes glistening with confidence, it might as well have been.
"Really, Akira." She scoffed. "I thought I taught you better than that – I've barely been gone for a month, and you've forgotten all your spells?"
With a chant, she launched a Shakkahō at Tasogare no Dorobō, which the Zanpakutō dodged with ease.
"Is that the depth of thy skills?" He taunted. "Do you truly think this woman can be your saviour?"
"No." Akira grinned. "But she doesn't need to be. Ryuji, I need your help!"
A crack of shunpo echoed through the air, and his best friend appeared by his side, donned in his new body suit with Sorakaizoku already released. "Leave it to me, Akira!"
While Tasogare no Dorobō managed to dodge the cannonball of pure electricity Ryuji sent hurtling his way, doing so ensured that he fluttered straight into Rukia's next Shakkahō. A distorted screech left the spirit's mouth, but while he lost altitude, he hadn't fallen yet. Still, even if he was out of Akira's range currently, the frizzy-haired teen knew exactly who could reach him…
"Ann, I need your help!"
He saw Shinkubi's fiery whip rush through the night sky and latch around Tasogare no Dorobō's leg before he saw the girl herself. Donned in the red catsuit she'd worn during the Kaneshiro raid, Ann shot him a kiss. "Anything for you, Akira!"
With a mighty yell, she tugged her Shikai downwards, smashing Tasogare no Dorobō into the ground. The wave of triumph that ran through Akira was short-lived though, as the Zanpakutō staggered upright, seemingly no worse for the wear.
"The air may be lost to me, but I can still beat you on the earth!"
"Maybe, but you can't beat my friends!" Akira snapped. "Makoto, I need your help!"
The sound of a fist thumping against a palm echoed through the air, and turning around, the Shinigami saw the student council president standing on the shed's roof. When the brunette caught sight of his Zanpakutō spirit, her eyes narrowed to slits, and she nailed Tasogare no Dorobō with a truly fearsome glare.
"I won't let you hurt anyone else – this stops here. Fist of justice!"
Yelling, a blast of blue light burst from her back, and she launched herself at Tasogare no Dorobō. Snarling, the Zanpakutō twisted out of the way. Makoto's blow went wide, and he struck at her exposed back, but before his sword touched flesh, Akira shunpoed into the fray. The black-haired teen blocked his strike, grinning. White porcelain formed over the teenager's face, and as Akira manifested his Hollow mask, he finally felt powerful again. Tasogare no Dorobō's eyes burned, and a snarl left his mouth, but before he could touch Akira, Makoto launched a Shunkō-powered kick into the spirit's stomach and sent him flying.
"Uryū, I need your help!"
The Quincy did not answer Akira's cry with words as his silhouette appeared on the prison's roof, but instead with a volley of arrows that pinned the screeching Tasogare no Dorobō in place. An awful roar escaped the Hollowfied Zanpakutō's throat as its mask split in half, a glowing red orb forming in its mouth. Akira's heart skipped a beat – he'd seen Akechi use that Cero variant before and knew exactly how lethal it could be.
"Sae, I need your help!"
The clouds parted as his other Quincy friend descended from the heavens. Instead of the mutilated beast she'd looked like when he'd snapped her out of Akechi's spell, the violet Reishi armour covering her made the silver-haired woman look ethereal. Reaching out with one arm, the Cero dissipated into motes of raw Reishi which Sae absorbed without a care in the world.
Footsteps echoed from behind him, and a beaming grin crossed Akira's face as Sojiro walked up to his side. Sighing, the barista shook his head before passing Akira a cup of coffee. "Drink up – after all this shit, you're going to need it."
"Thanks, Boss."
In the distance, Akira was positive he heard Mishima scream words of encouragement as he gulped down the delicious cup of Jamaican Blue. Passing it back to Sojiro, Akira laughed as fire ran through his veins, exhilaration lapping at him like the waves crashing against a jetty. For the first time in months, he finally felt like himself.
No – for the first time in his life.
"If you think this is all it takes to best me, thy wit is sorely lacking!" Tasogare no Dorobō's voice broke into a distorted mess, Akira barely able to process the Hollowfied blade's frenzied words.
Curling in on himself, darkness bubbled around the spirit, before exploding off him like a hurricane. Akira's Shinigami friends were forced to shunpo away from the gale of miasma, while his Quincy allies slipped backwards with their Hirenkyaku. For a moment, the frizzy-haired teen's breath caught in his throat when he realised what he needed to do. He wasn't sure if the boy would answer his call, but... shouldn't Akira have faith in his rival, the way everyone else had faith in him?
"... Akechi." He took a sharp breath in, before letting out a wary chuckle. "Why don't you show my errant Zanpakutō spirit what a true Hollow can do?"
"Hah!" A sharp laugh echoed across the clearing before the sneering Detective Prince landed at Akira's side. "With pleasure! There's only one real monster here, and it's ME!"
Slicing his sword across the flat of his palm, globules of blood rose from Akechi's skin. A manic grin slashed across the brunet's face, and as red light glowed in his hand, it was Tasogare no Dorobō's turn to be on the receiving end of a vivid red Cero. The blast of light almost blinded Akira as it rocketed towards the spirit, and Tasogare no Dorobō instinctively shielded his eyes, ensuing Akechi's attack hit him dead-on. The winged man was tossed through the air, landing in a broken heap on the barren ground.
Surveying his work, the cognitive Akechi gave a pleased smirk before turning away, leaving the battlefield. Akira was unbothered by his departure, however - after all, Akechi was his rival, not one of his crew.
"Phantoms, with me!" He yelled, snapping a finger and pointing it at Tasogare no Dorobō, who was already beginning to rise to his feet despite the clobbering he'd received. "It's time for an all-out attack!"
The Zanpakutō would never know what hit him. Blades slashed at him from all directions, thrumming with cursed energy as Kidō blasted and burnt the spirit's skin. Arrow upon arrow punctured his slender body deeply, as fist and feet and even some teeth pummelled him. Tasogare no Dorobō couldn't even turn to face his current attacker before the next one entered the fray. The Phantoms were like the ghosts they named themselves after – flashing in and out of existence, stepping into the place of their predecessor the second they fell back.
At long last, the spirit was overwhelmed. Tasogare no Dorobō staggered backwards before toppling over, landing on his back with an audible thump. A groan escaped his mouth, but his torment was not quite finished with yet. Futaba - who'd slowly approached while the others had eviscerated him - stood over the spirit, rock in hand, and with a yell brought it smashing down on his face.
Two things happened almost simultaneously. The Zanpakutō's Hollow mask shattered into a thousand pieces, fragments of white porcelain flowing through the air before fading into nothingness, revealing Tasogare no Dorobō's original dark-hued skin underneath. Then Akira – who'd swung his sword at Tasogare no Dorobō only once before leaving it to his friends – pulled down the lever for the prison's circuit breaker, and everything went dark.
…..
"I see thou hast finally awakened to your true self."
Gasping, Akira scrambled upright, heart beating a mile a minute. The first thing he noticed as his consciousness returned was the thrum of Reiryoku running through his body. The second was that Tasogare no Dorobō was sitting across from him, lounging on his desk the same way he had when Akira met him for the very first time. The frizzy-haired teen examined the spirit's face, and a pang of disappointment ran through him as he saw it had returned to a bleached white. Still, Akira wasn't too surprised – an emotional revelation wasn't going to change him on a biological level.
He didn't dwell on that long though, as the Shinigami was quickly distracted by their surroundings. They were definitely in his inner world – even if it wasn't for the return of his Reiryoku and Tasogare no Dorobō's presence, the ambient blue light was unmistakable. Beyond that though... the place was nigh unrecognisable. The panopticon had vanished, torn away as if it had been uprooted by a tornado. Metal bars and rugged stones littered the earth around them, the meagre remnants of the once seemingly infinite prison that had been there before.
The ruins, however, were less interesting than what was above them. Looking upward, Akira gasped in amazement as he set eyes upon a brilliant night sky. The glittering blue expanse stretched out as far as the eye could see, an endless tapestry gilded with ceaseless stars that shone like diamonds in the heavens. His breath caught in his throat – stars were one of the few things he'd genuinely missed from his hometown, but the display above him knocked anything he'd ever seen in his village straight out of the window. As his eyes traced across the Milky Way, Akira marvelled.
It was beautiful.
It was free.
A pleasantly cool breeze swept through Akira's hair, and it was only then that he realised he was no longer in his prison uniform, but his Shihakushō. As much as he wanted to marvel over, well, everything, it was at that point that he realised they were alone. "Where's Futaba?"
"Back in reality." Tasogare no Dorobō flicked his clawed hand dismissively. "Thou shall join her soon."
"I take it this means I've passed your test?" Akira grinned – there wasn't a hint of Shido's corruption in this world. However, as the Zanpakutō spirit shot him an unimpressed glare, Akira wilted. "I'm sorry – now's not the time for flippancy. I know I've still got a lot of work to do."
He needed to apologise to his friends in reality, after all, not just effigies of them made by his brain. Speaking of that though…
"Just what on earth was all of that about?" The teenager bit his lip. "Not the emotional journey – I get that part – but that world…"
"Young Futaba's theories were mostly correct." The masked man explained. "My ultimate power is to enter the realm made by a person's heart and clear it of all corruption. The body and soul are left untouched – only the target's biases and distortions are removed. By cleansing your own heart this way, you have earned the right to wield this ability yourself."
Akira's eyes widened as the implications of Tasogare no Dorobō's words sunk in. "Wait, that's… are you sure?" It was meant to take ten years to get Bankai, and unlike Ann, Akira hadn't even managed to do the whole materialisation thing yet.
Tasogare no Dorobō nodded. "I am certain of my decision. While your potential is limitless, thou hast already learnt the most important lesson I could ever teach you. Remember the day we first met? I am a blade that hungers for justice…" Walking to Akira's side, the spirit rested his hand on the teenager's shoulder in an almost paternal manner. "… and the full strength of my abilities can only be unlocked when you wield my power with and for the ones you love. When you close your heart away from others, my strength wanes and your soul grows weak. When you open it, however…"
"I can do anything." Akira grinned, meeting his Zanpakutō's eyes. "I can do anything, as long as I have faith in my friends."
"No – they are not just thy friends, but Phantoms. And thou will need them by your side if thou even dare hope of breaking the barrier between matter and mind. Without their presence to share the strain of such a task, our foes' hearts cannot be changed." Tasogare no Dorobō eyes blazed with approval. "… but if we join forces with our fellow Phantoms, together we become... Kokoro no Kaitou-dan!"
… Phantoms Thieves of Heart, huh? Akira mused, the name of his Bankai both exciting and unfamiliar on his lips. He couldn't wait to see it in action.
"I must warn you though – entering the realm of the heart is taxing, especially when thy skills are in their infancy." Tasogare no Dorobō cautioned him, as Akira's inner world began to fade away. "Thou shall only be able to tread into one more heart before winter reaches its end. I trust that thou shall choose wisely."
"Don't worry." He nodded, his Zanpakutō already nothing but a barely visible smudge of colour. "I will."
Kokoro no Kaitou-dan - Japanese for 'Phantom Thieves of Heart'. Akira's Bankai. Allows him and his allies to enter a target's heart and physically remove/destroy any distortions. Due to the metaphysical strain of doing so, he needs at least one other person to enter with him to share the load. More info will be revealed later.