Game of Cards

by TPez1422

Ren Amamiya, sentenced to an entire year of probation, finds himself under watch of Sae Niijima, the near-infamous prosecutor with a perfect conviction record. With the touch of a hand, Ren signs a contract with Arsene containing murky stipulations. But surely enough, the power to change the world comes at a hefty price. Also on AO3.

2. Six-Fold Face

January 23rd, 2010.

Ren isn't quite sure where he is. By that, he means that he couldn't quite name any streets that are close by. Not only that, he doesn't quite recognize the buildings that surround him in lowering frequency. They're more spread apart and sporadic. It's a far cry from the plain standard he's used to.

He can taste the lingering presence of saliva stuck in his mouth. That, and the unmistakable flare ups of iron that he ignores as he swallows. Ren gasps for air, taking big, full breaths of the air that just nips at his skin. Not enough to warrant any longer clothes than he's wearing though. His shorts and t-shirt are more than enough. Especially after the sweat he worked up running.

Ren figures that the athletic clothing he's wearing will mark him as someone out for a run if anyone were to shoot him a cursory glance. He's a little worried some sort of authorities will find him, but there haven't been any sirens. Much less any police cars all the way out here. The answer is twofold in his mind. Either he ran so erratically they're having difficulty finding him, or the more likely option. The search never began in the first place.

Ren frowns as runs a hand through his hair. He finds a couple of twigs and a leaf in between his unruly black locks. His hair only made more messy by the sweat that still falls down his forehead. He wipes it away with the back of his palm and throws the debris to the side. He ran through more than one thicket on his way to here - wherever this is.

Ren walks now. A more leisurely pace as his shoulders are still hiked up. As if expecting something from every infrequent corner. But he isn't jumpy either. It isn't as if he's expecting something imminent or sudden. It's more of a general weariness.

"You're certainly tense." A guy's voice makes itself known. It cuts through the silence of the morning with a bit of confidence to it. As if he isn't interrupting something, or he just doesn't care if he is. It's a high voice and one with a bit of scratchiness. The faint vestiges of confidence lie in the undertones of his voice. "Mind if I join you for your walk?"

Ren looks him over briefly. They seem to be similar ages if he can trust their heights as an indication. Ren just edges him out in height at an inch or so taller. But maybe it's their shoes that have them standing on equal ground. The boy has light brown hair, an almost dirty shade of it. His clothes contain tatters. They aren't ripped because they've been sewn and patched together with haphazard pieces of fabric that don't match in color.

Ren looks down at the ground in an attempt to ignore the boy. "No thanks." He mutters in reply.

"Thanking me?" The boy asks as he approaches. "Your manners are impressive. Is it that, or are you just talking by instinct?"

"Doesn't really matter." Ren replies. Keeping his head down he begins to walk faster. Ren doesn't plan on letting him catch up.

"Humor me for a while, will you?" The brown haired boy asks. "My name is Goro. Goro Akechi. He says, a shroud of emotion cloaking his face for a moment, but Ren wasn't looking to see it.

Slowly, reluctantly, Ren eases his stride just enough so that Akechi can match his step.

The boy he now knows as Akechi flashes him a big smile. "I did give out my name first, so it's only fair if you tell me yours too."

"Ren. Amamiya Ren." He replies simply.

"Well then, Amamiya, why are you here today? I can't say I've seen you around."

"I guess you could say that I'm lost." Ren says. "Yeah, that's it. It's not really a bad thing though."

"Is that so?" Akechi asks as he sidesteps a rusted stop sign, bent at an unnatural angle, the red paint has long since faded. The letters nearly gone along with it. Ren wasn't paying much attention before, so he didn't notice the lack of noise. The usual idle chatter in the street. The background noise that accompanies any sort of residential area. The constant roar of cars tearing down roads. There isn't any of that here. It's peaceful and surprising all at once. With a subtle undertone of something wrong. But maybe that's just Ren's perception.

"Yeah. I don't really have anywhere to go right now. Nowhere to be." Ren replies to Akechi.

"Well, in that case, I guess we're birds of a feather, huh."

"You going to explain?" Ren asks.

"Explain what?" Akechi replies.

"The feather." Ren indicates towards the black plume embroidered into his clothes over his breast. Ren again notices yet another difference between them. Ren's clothes, though old, have no real need for patches while Akechi's are riddles with them. A hint of pity fills Ren. He feels bad for wearing what he is. Clothes more suited to the elements make him feel like he's spitting in Akechi's face.

"Ok, sure." Akechi says. "It's the feather of a karasu. A crow. A black bird, obviously. I guess you could say Mom gave this to me. She's the one that called me that, after all. What can I say? I'm nothing If not bad luck."

Ren frowns at that. But since he isn't sure how to reply he pushes forwards. "Do you like birds?"

"I think they're cool. They fly. It's pretty impressive. I'm almost jealous."

"How come?"

"Well, it's kind of like reading a book." Akechi says. "There's something pretty cool about our fantasy. The impossible. And I think it sucks we can't use magic and teleport and fly and stuff. Birds have a power we'll never get."

"What if we could?" Ren asks. "Would you fly?"

"I don't think I can. That's as likely as being a superhero for me." Akechi says. "Completely impossible."

"But there's heroes in real life too. Why can't we be special too?"

"There has to be a reason we aren't heroes, right?" Akechi argues

Do you want to be a hero?" The boy with brown hair asks. A mop of the stuff, especially surprising for his age. It's like he's never cut it. And Ren thought his hair was getting long.

Ren hums in contemplation. "Yeah. I do. I wanna be good."

"What's good to you?"

"Making other people happy. Really happy." Ren says. "If I can do that, I'll be happy too. Oh, whoa!" Ren stumbles a little as he sidesteps a caterpillar on the sidewalk. Akechi, now behind him, crunches it beneath his heel. Akechi didn't even look down to see it. Ren purses his lips, but looks away.

"Is that really enough?" Akechi asks as they continue to walk. "I don't think I'd just be happy like that. I want to make some people happy, sure. But who deserves that? There's a lot of people out here that don't deserve gratitude and goodwill. That don't deserve second chances."

Ren shakes his head. "I disagree."

"I can't exactly agree with you either. I think heroes are noble, but to a fault. They get too caught up in their own goodness. Some can lose their way by doing good for the sake of their own image. So their 'good' becomes tainted. If there's ever someone that is a hero fully selflessly, I'd worry for their humanity, personally. I think they'd be monsters. A monster on the right side, maybe, but a monster and a twisted one regardless. Because we all have ego's. We all have stuff we want. None of us are perfect, so anything close to perfection has to be questioned." Akechi pauses for breath. He's unused to speaking so much. But perhaps it's the lack of threat he feels around another child, he reasons. Not that children like himself can't be threatening. Rather the opposite. But he doesn't feel or interpret any malice from the black haired boy to his left.

Well, he looks better off than I am. Akechi thinks. But that's shortsighted. I can't be assuming things about him this early. And even if someone looks refined it doesn't mean they can't be dangerous. I know that all too personally.

Ren messes with his hair, running his hand through it with irritation. "It's not usually this bad." He mutters under his breath as it stands up haphazardly. Like he's just rolled out of bed on a particularly rough day.

"Not your fault." Akechi chimes in, pointing to his own hair. As he does, Ren notices the dusting of snowflakes adorning his straw-like hair. It sticks up just like his own. "Means a storm's coming." He explains.

"A storm in the winter?" Ren asks. "Like, a snowstorm?"

Akechi shakes his head. "The air here is electrically charged. That usually means lightning is imminent. So a thunderstorm."

"I've never seen lightning when it's snowing." Ren remarks, curiously. "Isn't that weird?"

"Its not normal." Akechi states. "But it's going to be normal. We're doing this to ourselves. We've changed the planet's climate."

Ren seems to ponder that, offering a simple "that isn't good. Should we hide somewhere?"

"It'll be fine." Akechi says. "Besides, there isn't anywhere good around to take shelter, is there?" He makes a vague gesture to their surroundings. It's the opposite of voluminous. A few kilometers off lie taller buildings, but they don't seem within reach. Regardless of the relative safety of the city that lies just out of reach, their immediate surroundings are sparse. There's a lack of buildings. And what buildings are present show their age in rickety roofs and plain walls. They're mostly patch jobs much like Akechi's clothes. Many different materials coming together to make a whole. Either that, or the closest imitation possible to the real thing.

Ren vaguely remembers a word for this. It emerges from sprinkles of previous memories. From little bits he's seen of the world outside of Japan, or even just his hometown. If he were watching one of those documentarys now, he's pretty sure they'd call this kind of place the slums.

Maybe that's too harsh. But it's the closest word Ren has for a place like this. And he doesn't know the word well enough to know it might be offensive, even if accurate. It's precisely because of his lack of certainty around the world that he doesn't bring it to his mouth. Instead opting to have it roll around in his head.

The creak of rusty metal in desperate need of WD40 interrupts his thoughts. Mere meters away Is a swing set.

It's a park, Ren realizes. He's not quite sure why this surprises him. Maybe because of the dichotomy between the clothes Akechi wears and his own. Ren's are ripped at least partially, sure. But they're of good quality. And it's not like it isn't his fault they're ripped.

It's the divide that surprises him. Given Akechi's clothes, Ren is a little surprised to see something as normal as a park near the enigmatic, inexplicable boy. As if the world around Akechi should mold to be as unorthodox as he is.

But obviously, that's not how it works. Here they are as the snow falls unceasingly around them. As thunder rumbles in the distance, masking the sounds of both their stomachs aching in hunger. They push it down, of course. For their own reasons.

Snow has begun to accumulate. Not only on the ground. But their hair, the swings. Between the rusty metal of the weathered chains that bind those swings in place, and on the black seats. There's only two swings, and that's just enough for today.

Ren brushes his hand over the seat of the swing he chooses. It creaks as he does so, clearing the pure white snow from the black of the rubber seat. Despite how old and or out of shape the swings have gotten to be, this one takes his weight nicely.

Akechi hesitates momentarily as Ren swipes the snow away, before placing his hand into the white snow. He suppresses the face he makes as the cold of the snow bites right into his hand.

Ren all but jumps out for the swing as he realizes what Akechi's doing. Akechi hears the crunch of snow but doesn't think much of it, until a hand encased in red glove shoots out and grips his wrist firmly.

"Don't do that." Ren says in protest. Pulling Akechi's hand away insistently. "I've got gloves, I'll do it."

Ren pushes Akechi gently back and clears his swing of snow. They both take their respective spots on the swings and begin to fall back and forth in the soothing repetition of the motions.

Lightning crackles down in the distance as snow falls all around them, making for a surreal scene as the two boys brave the elements alone save for each other. The view of the scenery they're awarded seems to momentarily rob both from words.

Eventually though, Ren speaks. Not loud enough to interrupt the imagery before their eyes, but that's okay. He wouldn't have it any other way.

Thunder roars. Lighting flashes and strikes out its wrath upon the earth. Curving down in jagged lines as the yellow, blue, and even red javelins kiss the earth. In that fleeting moment of contact they set the very sky ablaze in their brilliance. Only to leave the planet mostly unscathed.

Maybe it would be something to fear, normally. But these aren't normal circumstances, nor people. There's a twisted sort of beauty in the danger and the thrill of it. Like by staying out during this geological marvel, they're having their first taste at the rebellion that comes with teenage years. Their first grasps at the straws of freedom adulthood surely must guarantee. Determines not to let this feeling slip through their fingers, they swing a little more enthusiastically in celebration of their escape.

"This is fun!" Ren says with a light laugh. He smiles from ear to ear without restraint for the first time today.

"It is." Akechi says with a nod. "Why'd you agree to follow me along? Well, I guess you didn't formally agree."

Thunder roars. Lightning strikes closer.

"Why? Ren replies in question.

"Yes. Why'd you agree to come? I'm not someone you know. I'm still a stranger, really." He says with a wistful look out at the snowy storms. His eyes aren't fixed on Ren. But there's a clear attenetiveness in his words. He's expecting and anticipating Ren's answer.

"Because you invited me." Ren replies.

"It's that simple?"

"I don't see a reason not to. I don't think you're a liar, Akechi."

"Okay then. Let me ask you another question. Is something beautiful just because it ends?" Akechi asks. "I can't really agree with that."

"What are you talking about?" Ren asks.

"That's the problem. I'm not really sure. I don't even know why I'm thinking this way. I don't know if these thoughts are my own or why I feel this way. But whenever I see things. Whenever people say that life is worth living just to live, I can't help but get angry." Akechi says, gritting his teeth and tightening his small hands around the metal chains. Disregarding how cold they are as Ren swings much higher than he does.

While Akechi slows to focus on his words, Ren surpasses his pace without issue as he replies at his leisure.

"I don't know about you, but I need to believe there's something out there. Even if it's fantasy, even when it's fantasy, I don't ever want to believe it's all miserable."

"Is this the most beautiful day I've ever had? It's possible. A stranger I can confide in without risk, who's my age. A friend, if I can call him that. This beautifully impossible scenery. This may very well be the best day of my life. But is that enough? To some, yes. But what good is a bottle of water through a journey of a thousand deserts? What good is a scrap of food once every twelve months? What does one act of kindness mean weighed against one of your own acts of ignorance?" Akechi says.

"Now's okay. Right?" Ren asks. "Isn't this moment fine? You don't have to think about anything else."

"And what of the suffering I know yet lies in my future? Why should I be okay with life like this? It isn't fair. People much happier shouldn't preach about my own happiness. They don't know a damn thing about my life."

"Yeah. They don't. But they mean well, I'm sure. I feel envious of them. Being able to be happy from such small things seems like a gift."

"Well it's a gift I don't have. Does that make me wrong? A bad person?" Akechi wonders with a humorless chuckle.

"No. I don't think it does."

"And what makes you so sure?"

"Well, right now we're just two kids at the park. Swinging on, and on. We're bothering no one. What's so bad about us?"

"Nothing, I suppose. But this moment doesn't define me - far from it. If we only saw people I'm moments or shades of their happiness, I doubt it would be easy to harbor resentment or ill will towards them. But the world isn't so happy."

"Yeah. It isn't." Ren agrees. "But… I don't know. I look at people that are happy with their friends. People worse off than me that are happy with less. Happiness isn't always attainable, sure, but that state of general contentment… I really can't help but feel envious. I don't understand how I could ever hate them. That's how I want to be. Content with where I am. Who I am."

"So you're ultimately satisfied by their conclusions. Even if you, yourself, haven't achieved that same conclusion for yourself yet, you find beauty in the fact others can. And by extension, because that ideal exists, you, one day, can reach it. Even if you drift between jealousy and yearning for what they have, you'd never want to change it. You'd watch from outside that window with a smile on your face, careful not to put your hand on the glass."

"You're pretty much spot on." Ren replies. A bit taken aback by the words he's using. "Do you disagree with that?"

"My heart doesn't follow those same paths. I'm not pulled by the same strings you are. We dance on different tunes. Exist in different octaves. But even so, I can't find fault in your perspective. I think what you're saying isn't 'bad', but I personally can't ascribe to those same beliefs. Even if what you're saying is correct. Even if your worldview and ideals make you the kindest person in the world, I'll still disagree with them. That's just who I am. And you're just who you are. Basically what I'm trying to say is, our beliefs and perspectives are incongruent."

"But don't you want to be a hero, Akechi?

"I used to. But you know that, right Ren? I don't even know why I'm in this body right now." He says as he inspects his hands. "But yes. There was a time when I wanted to be a hero. But I've changed." Akechi says, his expression hardening. "I won't just touch that glass-"

"You'll break it." Ren finishes.

"Yes." Akechi replies. "I can't be satisfied by merely watching other people's happiness. Nothing will change if you use soft methods. The problem with this country, all countries, is the lack of radical change. This is going to sound absurd, but essentially what we need is terrorism."

"... Explain." Ren asks. An eyebrow high at his peculiar choice of wording.

"Not senseless murderers, necessarily. But a revolution. We need something to shake the people out of their stupor. The masses down to the individual are so self absorbed and small scale It's unbelievable. Their minds don't go outside of themselves. Their ego's are so pathetically inflated for a life with no achievements. We are supposed to be a first world country, but we have slums. But we have an unwritten agreement written into us that we will overwork ourselves until death for a company that sees up as nothing more than a statistic. We preach about the state of the nation while we drown in the weight of our own minds - and still we deny the presence of mental health issues. The government spits in our face constantly, and we take it, blaming the others who are suffering from our same issues. We're all fighting a useless war to destroy each other as the government grinds our blood and drowns us in the deluge of our own gore."

"So because of the evils of the government, you think it's worth it to destroy them even if it comes at the cost of many lives. You think such a radical change is needed, even at that high of a price."

"That's exactly it." Akechi replies. "Putting your life on the line is big mountain for people to climb, but once we do, we can trigger an avalanche. A revolution. We just need these people to open their eyes to how wronged they are. By the institution's that run this country and the people behind them both. If we ever get to a point of which there is even the slightest support towards overthrowing the government, I want to be first in line. I'll take the bullet if it does anything to inspire the ones behind me. Those wretched, despicable bastards need to die by our hands. And the moment people are willing to become cognizant of their lives for once, they'll have no issue burning those in charge."

"It's personal for you, Akechi." Ren states.

"It always will be." He replies.

"I've never really heard sentences like that before. And you're talking so passionately. Have you ever considered acting? You sound like someone from a play."

Akechi blinks, clearly taken aback. "I've done more than consider it - I've done it. People say I'm quite good, but I don't believe it in the slightest. Acting is the art of perfectionists. And I've yet to deliver a satisfying performance."

"And what would satisfaction mean for you? What, if anything, would that be? Because you can't be hedging your bets on other people. There's always going to be people that won't appreciate you regardless of the quality of your work."

"And I know that. I'm aware that my performances can't please everyone. So, by extension, I shouldn't hinge my happiness on the opinions or expectations of others. But even if I know that, that doesn't mean I understand it. Even if I know what is technically right, living that way isn't possible for me. My heart isn't so simple, and I'm sure you feel that exact same way. Even if you say that you're fine just watching other people be happy, I don't believe it."

"Well, that's how I feel…" Ren says.

"Something you said earlier piqued my interest. You said you 'want' to be on the topic of happiness. That implies that you aren't content. Are you good enough, Ren?" Akechi counters. "Despite your own words, do you see yourself in that group? Are you a representation of that ideal that you speak so highly of?"

Finally, Ren's pace begins to falter as Akechi has come to a full stop on his swing. In response to the question, Ren slows.

"No. I'm not. I have to be better."

"That's what I was expecting." Akechi says. But he isn't gloating. His tone is resigned.

Ren let's himself come to a slow stop. Akechi disembarks first, almost eagerly so, and Ren follows.

Ren can't help but notice Akechi's chattering teeth. The way he hunches in on himself. It's hard not to notice, especially for an attentive kid like Ren as they stand just outside the park.

"Are you cold?" Ren asks. A rather redundant question, but Akechi indulges him.

"A little."

"Here. Take them both." Ren says as he pulls the gloves off his hands. They're a fairly striking red. With nary but a hint of dirt sullying the surface, they've still got that brand new shine. "I want you to have them."

Akechi blinks in surprise. His hands are still at his sides. He's completely unsure how to accept this. "Is it for me?"

"Yeah. It is." Ren says. "Do you not like them? That's fine. I'm not surprised."

They are oversized. They're gloves not meant for 10 year olds, and it's obvious when they stretch over Ren's own fingers. Clearly designed for much bigger hands.

"No. I want them." Akechi says firmly. "Can I really have them?"

"Yeah, yeah. I want you to take them." Ren says, pushing them up into Akechi's face. Ren's expression darkens as his eyes tighten. "They never kept me warm. Nobody else either. But… If it can keep your hands warm this winter, I'll be happy."

Akechi frowns. "I wouldn't feel right just taking a gift like this. And yet, what can I offer you in return? I have a few yen, but I don't think you'd want something that useless."

"Keep the money and the gloves, Akechi." Ren replies. "Hmm. How about this? Let's meet again. Right here. And when we do, we'll be different people. We'll both be our own heroes, and when that happens, maybe I can have those gloves back?"

"Something that simple? That would be okay to you?" Akechi asks in astonishment as he dons the gloves.

Ren clasps Akechi's hands. Even through the fabric of the gloves and the bite of the cold, Akechi feels how warm and alive Ren's hands are. Such a far cry from his own. It's like stepping foot in a new world. A completely foreign experience that shatters what he's always known.

"I want you to keep your promise. If you can do that, there's nothing simple about that, in my opinion."

As Ren's hands drop, Akechi feels a bit of desperation grip his heart. Like that hold was the only tether keeping him in this moment. Keeping them together. "When? When will we meet again?" Akechi asks.

"Don't look so worried. You've just gotta keep your promise. How about… 7 years from now."

"Seven years!?" Akechi scoffs. "We might be dead!"

Ren chuckles at that. "Ah, no. I hope not! We'll be older though."

"Seriously though. Why seven years? I don't know if my memory's that good."

"Your birthday's gonna be around this time, right? So let's meet on the 25th of January right around here. And 7 years cause it's a lucky number, Akechi. I want us to meet again at the best time."

Akechi shakes his head. "Something like that won't help. I don't believe in superstition.

"Have you ever tried?" Ren asks. "I'm sure it can't hurt."

"Well, no."

"Then it's worth trying. Don't give up on your luck just yet." He insists.

Akechi opens his mouth as if to say something but he doesn't have the words. Thing is Ren, I think just having today was lucky enough. It's been a long time since I've had a friend. It was almost like…

"Hey. Anything you've gotta say?" Ren asks, plucking Akechi from his train of thought. "It'll be a while, so let's not leave anything unsaid."

Akechi takes a deep breath. "You're right." He says as he extends a hand.

"A handshake?" Ren asks.

"It's a deal, no? So we should shake on it."

Ren nods. And so their hands clasp together.

"This is a pact between you and I." Akechi says firmly. "Don't forget. We'll meet here again in seven years time."

"I won't miss it." Ren promises. "We'll see each other again."

Akechi pulls away and the moment ends. He gives a final nod, brushes himself of snow, and trudges off wearing his new gloves. The snow crunching beneath his feet.

"Akechi. Where are you going?" Ren asks, something making his voice waver. Things flit through Ren's eyes. Like the still images of a roll of film or the pictures of a photo album.

The emotion in Ren's voice gives him pause. "I'm going home Ren. I have to go home. Don't you?"

Ren shakes his head. He walks over with haste and captures Akechi in a tight hug. As if to keep him in place. Akechi makes no move to run, though. Instead, to Ren's surprise, Akechi is quick to reciprocate. He doesn't even ask why.

"I'm going to miss you, Akechi." Ren says sadly. "Even if no one else feels this same way. I'm going to be upset. You can understand that, right?"

"Miss me? Am I going somewhere?" Akechi asks with a rare hint of humor in his voice.

Ren's hands clasp, now gloveless, in a seatbelt grip behind Akechi's back. Akechi goes for a simple hug around Ren's back. Amid the unforgiving winter's storm, both boys warm each other in this precious moment. But it's fragile. New.

It was Ren's first hug in years. And Akechi's first in months. And yet, it ends. They part.

Or so they should've. But Akechi surprised him.

"Hey, Ren?" Akechi asks without turning. Making Ren have to strain to hear him properly.

"Yes?" Ren asks. Unable to hide the hopeful lilt to his voice.

"Don't be so passive about your dreams. I'm not sure what you're doing right now, but I'm sure you can do more. Even if I couldn't be a hero, I'd be extraordinarily happy if you could do that for me, and for yourself."

"Akechi." Ren says in awe.

"Let me finish please." Akechi says with a shaky breath. "If this is my last message to you. If our paths never intersect going forwards, these words ring true above all. I can't be any more honest than I am right now." He speaks with difficulty. Bringing both of his hands up to rub his eyes. Akechi sniffles. And whether it's from the cold or something else, it's impossible for Ren to tell from behind Akechi's back.

Akechi shakes the sleeve of his left hand's tattered shirt. Falling straight and true is a chess piece. Akechi catches it in his hand, showing it to Ren without turning from where he looks onwards. Their eyes and their fronts never meet as he shows off the piece in his hand. A white rook is the piece he's chosen. That's the one that lies only particularly obscured between his fingers.

"Because, even if we're on different sides for the rest of our lives, I'd like to have a match with you. I'd like to see what you think being a hero is. And if that so happens to go against what I stand for, it is what it is. I don't believe your way, your ideal, is possible. But if it is…"

Finally, Akechi turns to look at Ren. And the expression on his face is striking. Tears running freely down on his face, biting into his skin with the frosty cold of the wind. But he's smiling.

"Then show me Ren. Show me you can change the world the right way. Or I'll have to do it the only way I can."

And that's all there is to it.

---

Years later.

Ren's fingers hurt.

Ren walks alone. It's a decently common habit of his. Even if his feet start to ache after a while, the fresh air is welcome. He lives out in the country. Well, not all that far from the city. He doesn't live out of contact range or anything, but he also doesn't have quick access to a major hospital or large institutions like you'd see in Shibuya. The best way to put it is that Ren lives in between. If he wanted to, or could, daily visits to the city would be feasible. But where he lives doesn't have a big police presence. He can't resent them for that. He wouldn't seek them out even if they were present. But, he thinks that it might be nice knowing they were available.

Tonight he's found himself close to the city. If there is one thing to be said about the benefits of the major population center, for Ren it's the stuff he can buy. He allocates his money very carefully. Food is rarely a priority, unfortunately. What he finds most impressive, yet annoyingly priced, is the medical supplies in common pharmacies. There are so many options, so Ren has found those stores to be a must visit. And a constant drain in his stores of money. But a necessary one.

Bandages. Antiseptic. Antibiotics.

He still remembers that day from 6 years ago now. And wonders if during that snow storm these were the walls they looked upon from afar. He hasn't seen the boy since. Not that he expected to, or he was necessarily looking. But he's somehow a little surprised by the fact he and Akechi haven't even had a chance encounter since. He doesn't mind it though. It just means their meeting, assuming Akechi remembers, will be all the more satisfying. With all the building anticipation it'd almost sour their eventual joining. Like finding out what present you're going to get before Christmas day arrives.

Today, Ren hopes for some specific antibiotics from the city. Ideally on the cheaper side, as the money in his pockets is less than he'd like.

It's getting late. Ren thinks, a little worried. It's not that the streets around here are particularly dangerous. Ren hasn't really spent a long enough time to come to a conclusion like that. And he's not one to get worried about some sudden act of violence. He doesn't believe much in dread risks, even if his luck isn't the greatest.

All that aside, he'd rather not come home late. That's why he's conscious of the darkening skies and the growing shadows as the sun sets. He's already pushing it as it is.

The street lights flicker online without warning. Practically instantaneous, save for the few that don't turn on yet, and won't come alive at all.

Ren makes a quick dash into one last pharmacy. The last one, he promises himself for the second time tonight. Ren doesn't get an amazing deal. But he gets some of what he wants. He isn't quite satisfied with the items he recieves, but he has no other choice. His pockets sure feel a lot lighter now.

"Don't touch me!" A woman's voice cuts through his thoughts. It's faint, but still distinct and intense even coming from afar. The acoustics of the tight Tokyo street help carry a voice that would usually be faint.

"Just do what you're told." A surly voice says quieter. "And shut up about it. Get in the car. You're a woman, you have no place talking back to me."

"Not here. Not ever. Get away from me, you stupid looking bald fuck!"

Ren's eyes widen. Wow.

An echoing sound resonates. Ren knows the sound all too well. Skin against skin. The unmistakable sound of someone being hit. Slapped, he assumes. He must be close now.

"Stop! Get away from me!"

"Stop struggling. Get in the car, bitch."

Ren starts to run. His chest tightens and It burns. He sprints recklessly and with urgency. His footsteps clatter against the pavement as he sprints part unrecognisable buildings. His speed doesn't even cut at his lungs. Too focused on the single minded goal of helping someone in need, Ren's mind is clear of all obstruction.

His body doesn't fail him even as his feet ache from pains unrelated to running. Ren sprints forwards with a desperation as if it's his life on the line. For a situation that could very well just be an overblown drunken argument, Ren's behavior is nothing if not abnormal.

Finally he turns the corner and sets eyes on the situation. In seconds he's able to see and process what's before him. Just a few meters away, a bald man touches her in a way that wouldn't be appropriate anywhere, much less when he clearly doesn't have her consent. His grimey fingers go where they shouldn't. Touching her lower than anyone should in public. She bats his hand away and he sways. He's clearly older than she is and what fills Ren most is overwhelming disgust.

It's not all directed at the bald man. Some of it is aimed at himself. Because here he stands on the precipice. The mountain. Here he's ran with strong feelings in his heart and falling blood that he will save her. But now he's hesitating? In the most important moment he's stopped? The man continues on to usher her into the car. She's practically hysterical now. At this rate, she might even fight the man off herself. But then, he says something ineligible, and her eyes darken. She gives a solemn nod, and makes way into the car herself. Her clothes half off thanks to his assault.

Ren's face twists itself into an ugly expression of anger. Of hate. His eyes tighten as he fixes the revolting bald man in his eyes. Boring into him. The man doesn't so much as turn. He's still off balance.

Drunk. Ren assumes.

"Do you want to be a hero?" The words of the boy echo within his head. Those words from years ago.

Ren believes he understands the boy he got to know briefly all those years ago. Their opinions were at ends. As simply as Ren can think of it, he wishes to change something Akechi thinks as unchangeable. Ren wishes to find a perfect solution. To fight a perfect battle. And Akechi thinks such a reality is nothing but delusion. The kind of delusion that, if it existed, would be beautiful. Like a far off paradise or utopia you read about in a book. But he was too rooted in reality. Too convinced being a hero and being good was impossible. Due to his own experiences, probably. But what experiences he's had, Ren isn't sure.

Ren has little idea of the path that led Akechi to a different solution towards the same problem. The same hope. And yet, even despite Akechi's more cynical viewpoint, he still wishes to see Ren's interpretations of heroism.

Ren can't help but remember. His utter and pathetic weakness. His inability to do anything. To act.

But morality and ethics don't weigh in his calculation right now. Ren closes that final gap. Driven by a desire to change the scene unfolding right before him, and make his presence known.

Ren charges and shoulder checks the man far from the woman with a look of determination. By driving his right shoulder in, they both grunt and Ren sends him practically flying, and then he crashes to the ground with a dull, low thud against the pavement.

This, he's certain he won't regret. It's exhilarating watching the man fall. Knowing he can no longer harm the woman he was clearly bothering. No, it was more than that. At this rate, he was about to coerce her into something bad. Something she clearly didn't want to do. Ren knows that. And so, he smiles down at the middle aged man in defiance. Knowing he stood in the way of such reprehensible actions gives him pride. But it shouldn't. This is what he had to do. If anything, Ren's a little ashamed it took him so long to act. But he can't really be blamed.

Ren finally fights back.

The bald man rises. Ren tenses, yet he's loose at the same time. The adrenaline feels amazing. Ren grins wide and toothy. A bit high on the feeling of some difference in his life for once. This is how he should be living.

Right, this isn't over. He thinks as he squares his fists to the bald man. Ultimately the man's older than he is. Ren knows that weight and physical inability can be deceiving. Even if he might not have worked out a day in his life, Ren isn't exactly trained in martial arts. He has no delusions about his physical capabilities. Not to mention, he's a bit hindered by his own injuries. Not that he's feeling them right now.

All in all, Ren feels the need to be careful slowly overwhelmed by the absolute rush and thrill of the moment. He smiles wider. Scooping the air In by both his palms in a cocky come hither motion. After that, he eases the woman away from the car and behind him, the smirk never leaving his face. As much as he wants to ask, turning to ask if she's okay is stupid. He isn't quite sure of how to navigate the intricacies of a woman who's been sexually assaulted. And realizes only after the fact that touching her might've been a mistake. Still, there's no time to fixate on her right now. The best thing he can do is make sure it doesn't happen again.

"Stupid fucking kid." the bald man says, shaking his head. He seems a bit sobered up now. The right side of his face has a nasty gash just above the eye and wrapping around to the temple. Bleeding fairly profusely and interfering with his eyesight as he winces and wipes it away. But it's obviously just a surface wound. If anything, the initial fall probably hurt more. If Ren's lucky he gave the man a concussion. But it doesn't seem that way.

"My parents are scarier than you, asshole." Ren taunts as he puts his fists up again. "Come on, let's go."

"You really don't understand what you've done, do you." Shido cackles as if talking to himself. "I'm going to sue, you idiot."

Ren's confidence falters a bit. But he doesn't let his smile fall. "Papers can't kill me you drunkard."

"Oh they can, and they will. Better yet, I'll have you begging that they did kill you. But you're not important enough for that." He pulls up his phone and quickly sends out a call. Ren can hear the ominous buzz resonate within him. The line picks up almost immediately and he gives his name. "This is Masayoshi Shido. I need a police dispatch immediately."

"Yes sir. Right away sir!" comes the authoritative sounding voice through the tinny filter of the phone.

Shido just grumbles in response and clutches his head. "Don't be late."

Ren's head goes blank as at Shido's prompting the woman once again makes her way into the car. She's still crying, but she's accepted this fate at this point.

He can't let this happen. This wasn't all for nothing. He feels that strongly as he takes strides forwards to the car once again.

Ren punches Shido. Shido, who was fully focused on finally ushering the woman into the car despite her tears, completely isolated Ren from his mind. Ren never made much of an impression to begin with, so it was easy for Shido to dismiss him like another one of his lackeys.

But Shido's lackeys don't have the audacity to hit him.

Shido's head rebounds off the car frame, and Ren winds back another punch. This one is heavier, and slower, but it still lands flush. Ren knocks shido's head side to side with forceful punches. More cuts open up on both Shido's face and Ren's knuckles. At this distance Ren feels like he can't miss. Ren, remembering his other set of limbs, knocks a clean elbow into Shido's head as Shido tries to close the distance. As the older man crumbles, Ren lets him fall hard against the pavement. And after a few deep breaths to recuperate, he kicks shido's defenseless head like a soccer player might. Whipping the man's head back and reshaping his nose in the process, Ren feels pain explode in his foot as well.

However, before Ren can even address his own injury, he's shot without warning.

A taser, any bystander would be able to discern as he falls in dangerously forced muscle spasms. Quickly, he's pressed into the ground. Completely immobile and incapable of any sort of resistance, the police still handle him roughly as he's hauled into their van. And his world fades in the blade of sirens that are far too shrill for his ears.

I hope she's okay. Is Ren's last fading thought.

A month prior to the present.

Handcuffs. The familiar, ever present taste of iron. The rough feeling of the asphalt he's all but forced to eat. His glassy eyes looking out emptily as he drools onto the ground. Being hauled and shoved into a van, a station, and now a small, dreadfully inescapable room.

Ren struggles to even breathe. His wrists are still painfully bound behind him and the skin has been bit away by the metal. Clearly he's been struggling. Either that or they left him to hang by his handcuffs. The second option is unlikely, but he can't figure that out in his state.

His world is one of harsh lighting piercing through his eyelids. He blearily opens his eyes. Not heavy from sleep, but an alternate weight. Sort of like the feeling of being brought back from anesthesia. Or even the feeling of waking from a very short nap and clearing the weight of the veil drawn over those still-tired eyes. Ren can say that it's a horrible feeling. But his throat hurts both internally and externally. His voice box feels hoarse from either overuse or disuse, and his throat is singed with burning pain. Like dying coals were slowly dragged against the sensitive flesh of his neck. In actuality, it's the feeling of being dragged along asphalt. Getting your skin torn off by the uneven rocky surface like cheese to a grater.

"Admit you were the one that did it." A brusque officer says, shoving Ren's face down onto the table. "Confess already. And If you don't, let's just say your family won't be as happy as they are now."

Ren's head still spins. It throbs in pulsing pain as he bleeds onto the table. To his surprise, his blood is joining a large pool of blood that must also be his own. He's surprised by how much there is. It's a perfect sickly pool of the stuff that's matting his hair and dripping from his skin like water. Pain is everywhere, so it's hard to tell where it hurts. His face and head is where it's most prominent. Enough to make him beg for a headache.

Ren's eyes widen at that. "No… no. Don't do that." He all but begs them. His voice is suddenly meek. Ren clutches the cold metal table with a new desperation, and that tells the police all they need to know. "Anything but family. Don't tell them."

"Oh I will. If you keep resisting I'll tell them every bit of this sentence you earned. And if I were to guess, your family wouldn't take that very well, would they? Knowing their son is a criminal?"

"Okay! I'll admit it." Ren gasps. "I- I did it. I touched her. All over. I was wrong. I'm a horrible person. A sad excuse. I sexually assaulted her. It was me. Just stop already. I gave you what you wanted, right?" He asks, lifting his head weakly.

Ren doesn't like that look in their eyes. He did exactly what was asked. He knows this to be true somewhere. Well, he even tried to surpass their requests to avoid this exact outcome. But Ren knows that look. And what follows is unavoidable.

"We're done? We're done, when I say we're done." An officer says menacingly. "Call this correctional work. Just to make sure you never step out of line again."

For the thousandth time in Ren's life, he's tasting the heavy essence of his own life. Being spilt again and again freely. And idly, he wonders just as the world falls apart, how much blood he has left to be taken from him.

Two weeks ago.

The apartment they reside in is rather nice, all things considered. It's got a convenient location, close to the courthouse to the point that Sae can bike on days she feels like getting some exercise in. A rarity, however, as she doesn't like crumpling her well-ironed suits before work. That, or ruining her perfect silver hair. Not grey, silver. She's the perfect blend of maturity and youth, or so she thinks. Professionalism and the image she presents is of the utmost importance, after all. Not only that, it's more of a house than an apartment because of its multi floor configuration. It's not huge, but certainly not small at a size of 1300 square feet.

Sae kicks off her shoes after locking the door behind herself. She's all but abandoned wearing heels as they lie forgotten in the entryway. It's not like she needs the extra height. Not only that, they're completely impractical. They hurt, and she's fine without any more pain.

Sae slides her work bag off her shoulder and onto a coat rack to hang. It contains her laptop and a myriad of important work files. The forefront of which happens to be the Ren Amamiya file. The boy sentenced to assault and convicted in short order. It's not uncommon at all. In fact, in what small samples Sae's been able to collect, cases indeed tend to trend easily in the favor of conviction. Especially so as her career and notoriety has only grown as a prosecutor. It's all matching the absurd stats recited to her by the arrogant prosecutor that won his case solely by tampering. Ninety nine percent. It's just the truth.

Sae can't help but sigh. The exhale is heavy to her own ears as her shoulders slump. It's 6 pm. An earlier day. Even so, it's not like her work is over just because she's home.

She's tired. She has an appointment with the doctor tomorrow. One she almost has to shake her head at. She just needs to apply herself more. Needs to work harder. She doesn't need anyone's help. There isn't anyone as capable as she is. And yet, it isn't that easy. It isn't that simple. If the answer were that simple, she'd have solved all of her problems already. The solution may be obvious, but reaching that solution isn't easy. Just because the answer is clear, that doesn't make the journey any less arduous.

She pulls her long coat off her shoulders and hangs that over her bag. Hiding it from sight. Rolling her aching shoulders, she calls out upstairs to her sister.

"Makoto. I'm home. Let's spar." Sae says. It isn't a question as she strides over to the octagon her father purchased. She hears Makoto's door open. Her quick response of "coming!" ringing out.

Sae steps up into the cage and fastens her headgear. Even if the chances are low, she'd rather not risk getting a condition like CTE. Even if it's only sparring, the threat of brain injury still looms. She wraps her hands in specialized tape. It helps to prevent fractures and breaks in the wrist. Keeping the hand and wrist in line so that your form when punching is correct.

She wraps the white tape between index and middle. Middle and ring. Ring and pinky. Thumb and index. And finally, a supportive wrap around the wrist. She makes sure not to put too much tape. She wouldn't want to encumber her own movement. Lastly, she straps herself up with shin guards, elbow pads, and twelve ounce MMA gloves.

The methodical and rigid movements calm her tumultuous mind. Despite the ridiculousness of the notion Sae swears she can feel the health benefits upon stepping into the cage. She rolls her neck loosely. Stretching long, muscular legs she breaks in an easy split. An impressive feat given the amount of time she's spent sitting at an office chair in this young life of hers. She doesn't really have free time to go to the gym. Much less even time to simply stand at work as she pours over her computer and countless case files that filter through her desk. It's great to stretch her legs for once.

Thanks to her dad, though, most of what she likes to do is accessible within her home. For example, weight training. Body weight training simply doesn't cut it most of the time.

Speaking of cut, Sae knows she is rather toned. Working out is like an investment, she thinks. The earlier you start, within reason, and the longer you invest time into it the better long term results you'll receive. As came with sparring with her father, she would work out quite often to try and bridge that daunting gap between an older man and the young woman she was. Fighting against biology and experience isn't easy, but she made no excuses.

Her abdomen is well sectioned. But Sae knows that even if it wasn't, that isn't a telltale indication of her level of fitness. Too many factors go into whether one's abs are visible or not. But even if it's illogical, Sae finds some sort of pride in the visual achievement. Because of her height her musculature is a little more subtle than if she were shorter. She isn't burly or even necessarily big, but that size is deceiving. She has a surprising amount of strength in both legs and arms. To the point that she would be confident in a fight. She's no bodybuilder. Instead, she has the strength of a climber. Slender build with extremely deceptive natural strength behind it. The result of her rigorous dedication over years of bodyweight and free weight training.

Makoto and Sae's sparring isn't usually confined to just one martial art. Today is no different.

Sae has to look down on her shorter sister even if she wouldn't want to. And so, obviously, Makoto has to crane her eyes up just to meet her gaze. They couldn't be any more different.

This doesn't get any less intimidating. Makoto would say. In the last three years, her sister has only gotten more imposing. More perfect. Further away. And yet, more flawed too. Her anger is definitely new. Makoto doesn't remember anything about that from before their father died. In fact, Sae's temper was so good it was hard to believe she even felt the emotion. But now it's like she doesn't bother to hide it anymore. It shows in every stomp. Every work call. Words uttered just short of hate at her colleagues she insists are 'insufferable idiots.'

Makoto can count on one hand the times she's been able to best her sister definitively in sparring. Of those times, they've all happened within the last three years. And never has Sae been without eye bags that she passes as makeup with a bit of a touch up before work. Deep sags that are completely at odds with her age and the rest of her routine. A perfectionist as far as Makoto can see, her perfectionism might be her downfall when it comes to this very issue. As such, Makoto rarely takes any pleasure in those victories. Especially because of Sae's lack of response to losing. To Makoto, it's clear Sae's only ever lost to her in states where she's too far gone to even care about putting up a front. And that's concerning.

It all worries Makoto. She works seven days a week. Sae seems always to be on call, yelling at someone or other to do their job. Asking why they're incompetent straight to their face. But still she climbs the ranks. But still she's seen as the rising star of the nation's legal system. The nation. At only 24 Sae is the most coveted legal prospect in the entire country. She's never had a case she hasn't successfully prosecuted. And those kinds of numbers make for great headlines. The prosecutor that hasn't lost a single case. Of course the news and the people love that kind of story. Though, the problem is, that just makes Sae work that much harder to keep that 0 in place.

Makoto understands why. She attacks her work with anger. A straightforward, unyielding attack. An unhealthy one, by Makoto's standards. But she's unsure herself. This is Sae's dream. She's said it herself in their little girl talks they used to have. Makoto just wonders what happened to change those curious red eyes of hers. What killed that spark? That fire? What fuels her anger? And the contradictions in her also confuse Makoto. The pristine image she has in public and the way she unceremoniously drops to the couch after an impossibly long day of 17 hours at work. Sleeping on the couch to get what little hours of respite she can. She doesn't even bother taking her work clothes off. Makoto wonders if she even has the energy.

Sae often goes without eating in the mornings. No time. Coffee is a necessity at this point. That, and another contrast that surprised Makoto. Cigarettes and alcohol. The former especially. Sae strongly denounced them. But she smokes herself. Something she used to swear she'd never do. Something she and Makoto promised to write off as one of their vices. Maybe it was just an insignificant promise. Hell, Sae probably doesn't even remember it. But Makoto does. And she thought that meant something.

Makoto sees too many similarities between Megumi - her father and Sae. And it scares her profusely. Even despite all her intricacies Sae is Makoto's guiding star. Her closest role model and the only person she can call a friend. Losing her would be earth shattering.

So If she's a bit shaky putting her equipment on today, she'll blame her nerves. Not the slight bit of genuine fear she has today for sparring against Sae.

Sae's lips are a pursed line. The red blood of her lipstick meeting in an expression that borders between serious and bored. She stands tall and relaxed in a southpaw stance. Right leg forwards. Over the years Sae made it a personal mission to master ambidexterity. A mastery she now can claim.

Sae and Makoto touch gloves and seperate. Then, with a deep bow from Makoto and a shallower one from Sae, they fight.

The battle is like a pistol against a sniper rifle. Makoto isn't even thinking about striking by the time she enters Sae's range. Sae's leg is like lightning. Striking the thigh just above the knee, Sae's shin hits Makoto with precision. She follows up with a cross that Makoto slips backwards. Makoto winces, but quickly distances herself two strides away. Only a stride or so from the cage now which is to her back.

Sae walks her down. Her arms high and to the sides of her head. Her stance is unorthodox, but Makoto makes sure not to mistake it for laziness.

If there's one thing Makoto's learned, it's how Sae's kicks are a key part of her arsenal. Not only that, but Sae's kicks have a trait to them. The first ten percent or so of the movement is normal. Makoto thinks she could match that. But then she accelerates. The speed after she starts to kick is all but impossible to react to. Makoto doesn't understand how Sae's so good at not telegraphing her kicks, while still getting both power and precision into them.

Makoto grits her teeth. She can already feel the inevitable limp from Sae's kick developing. But for now, adrenaline is her ally.

Makoto keeps her focus on Sae's feet now. Measuring the distance between them so she can get the timing right.

As Sae goes for a similar kick, Makoto reacts almost immediately, but it's a feint.

Sae executes a perfect question mark kick. A slower feint so that Makoto would raise her leg to check it, and then a much faster kick to her head.

Makoto wobbles. Sae enters her range for the first time, thinking to end the sparring. To go in for the metaphorical kill.

Makoto, however, surprises Sae by shooting for a takedown. Makoto grabs Sae's lead leg and secures a hold. Makoto inches forwards looking for the second leg, but Sae doesn't allow it. Keeping her arm stiff, the taller woman keeps the one leg still on the ground far away from Makoto.

Sae completes an awkward hopping rotation on her one leg so that she maintains distance. Makoto, rushing in for the takedown, has her posture broken as Sae pulls her leg in towards herself. Makoto finds herself all but eating the ground as Sae goes down with her.

Sae's upper body lies over Makoto's back now. And already she's moving. Sae hooks her left arm around Makoto's torso, and holds Makoto's left arm. Sae's right arm comes around in a half guillotine, but she isn't threatening a submission immediately. Makoto moves her right arm to defend against the possible threat of a guillotine, and immediately Sae's In motion. Lifting her awkward left leg from the ground, she swings her leg and lower body to a new position. Now, her left knee pokes into Makoto's side near her abdomen. Lifting her right leg she hooks over Makoto's right palm, and using that foot she extends Makoto's arm, quickly swapping legs she traps Makoto's now extended arm behind her left leg, and swings it back. Sae's right foot now plants itself back against the canvas. Pushing with great force, Sae rolls them both, giving her a new position.

Out of the roll, Sae has Makoto's back. Quickly she establishes the final stages of the crucifix as Makoto, woefully behind, has no sort of defense to this new submission. Having no way out, with pressure mounting around her neck, Makoto quickly taps. And then the pressure's gone and she's allowed to breathe again.

"Are you taking this seriously?" Sae asks. Criticizing Makoto's technique as she disengages.

"Yes. I'm trying sis."

"Well, you don't seem focused." Sae says with disapproval.

"School's been hard recently." Makoto says, lowering her head. "Feels like no one's in my corner."

Sae looks down on her sister with confusion. "We're not at school right now." She says, never leaving her stance. "If you can't focus on this moment and block everything else out, you'll never be able to focus on school either."

"I can focus on school fine. It's not like you're here to check my grades.'

"Listen, Makoto. If I were to slack off, we wouldn't be able to live comfortably. I'm doing this for both of us."

"Surviving." Makoto corrects. "If you stop having ambition and dreams, all you're doing is surviving. Not living. That's what you're doing. Just like what dad did."

"And? Are you fine with dying?" Sae replies. Her voice raises an octave or so. "Because there's arguments like yours, and then there's reality. You'll understand when you're older and more responsible. Things aren't how I'd like. The world is full of problems and we can't always get what we want. Most of these problems just can't be changed. Some things we just have to accept. Like death. And unless you want to end up like he did, I'm going to keep doing what I'm doing."

"Are you saying I should just accept how dad died!" Makoto cries out.

"Wait, no i-"

"Shut up!" Makoto replies. "I'm done talking to you! Don't ever talk about dad like that again!"

"And what do you know about dad!?" Sae snaps, with unbridled anger. "You and him were never close. You were just too young to understand what his work was like. What my work is like."

"And you don't know a thing about my life! Because you're not in it!"

"So you'll resort to that?" Sae scoffs. If you used even a second of logic you'd realize I have my reasons for being busy. But no. You're acting solely out of emotion. You're only thinking about yourself."

Makoto shakes and throws a punch at Sae. Even though it was agreed their match had ended, Makoto's movement was sloppy. Telegraphed. Sae sidesteps perfectly and grabs Makoto by the back of her collar. Throwing her down to the mat disrespectfully. Not even using the proper technique as she unceremoniously drops Makoto to the ground. Sae follows her to the ground. Her fist primed. She won't miss.

Sae watches the expression unfold on her sister's face. The confusion. The surprise. And finally the instinctual fear. That last emotion dominates her face as Sae comes just short of breaking her own sister's nose.

Makoto, her own sister, the only family she has, is scared of her. She's assuming and ready to be hurt. And that's exactly what Sae was about to do. She was going to break Makoto's nose when she was defenseless. And Makoto curls up into herself, her two forearms now in between them, waiting for a blow that doesn't come.

The silence is deafening in its own right. Like the piercing ringing through your ears after the explosion of a bomb, no other sound exists. Then their senses return.

After a long moment Makoto scrambles out from under Sae, and leaves without a word, half-heartedly slamming the door on her way out. Where she runs to, even she isn't sure.

What am I doing? What am I doing? What am I doing? Sae wonders over and over as she brings a cigarette shakily to her lips to calm her nerves. She doesn't care if it's improper or unprofessional right now. She needs to calm down. She almost hit her sister! Sae stumbles out to the front steps to spark up a cigarette. Flicking the lighter up on the first try, the flame catches and she takes a deep inhale.

Smoke escapes her lips in dark whisps like tendrils of forbidden magic. She exhales and a deathly calm settles over her. Like with a single puff, she's expelling her very soul from her mouth. And all that's left In it's place is an empty husk of a body. A mere coffin where a human once resided.

It's a little repulsive for her to think about, but Sae knows what she has to do. She dials a number into her phone, and sends a call through. It's only one ring before it picks up.

"Is this doctor Maruki?" Sae asks. "Yes. I'd like to schedule an appointment immediately. Is there a time slot available for tomorrow? Okay, good. I'll be there. Yes, it's a psychological evaluation. The money isn't a problem. Just don't disappoint."

---

"Niijima, right?" The man with the shaggy brown hair asks. Adjusting his glasses clumsily In the small office space. It's a study in contrasts. A controlled chaos of sorts that Sae wouldn't shy away from calling a mess. The metal nameplate on his desk reads Maruki, so this is indeed the clinic she was looking for. It wasn't a far drive, something she thought about when she picked this doctor. He's garbed in a traditional white lab coat, that of a scientist. His glasses look for eyesight rather than protection, but maybe they're dual purpose. Under the white coat is a simple, collared blue shirt.

As she noted earlier, the room is cluttered. A myriad of notes are spread across a desk, a table. Sticky notes on his computer with only partially legible handwriting. The cot off to the side is clean, though. Pristine compared to the rest of the room. An eye of the storm. But even with the general messiness, there's an underlying sense of cleanliness. For example, it's not like there's any mess of critical issues. There isn't any food, for example. Also, while his notes seem scattered, they're also well sectioned. She can see the organization through color coding. Done with a mix of sticky notes and a myriad of highlighter colors.

Maybe I chose the wrong place. Still, he had glowing reviews. So much so that I doubt the validity of such. Especially given the recency of them all. I find it hard to believe a doctor who's just started his career in earnest is recieving such glamorous praises. Whatever. I'm here now and I have an appointment. I'll hear him out. Sae thinks.

"That's right. And you're Doctor Maruki."

"I'm glad you know my name." He says earnestly. "It's not often I get a client as renown as you are. You're quite the topic of conversation, Niijima. It's an honor."

"My ego isn't so overblown so that I care for flattery. You know why I'm here. Let's get to it." Sae says, throwing her coat onto the rack in the corner with impressive accuracy.

"Ah, yes, of course. But before we start, I'd just like to give you a warning of sorts." Maruki says. He prepares to continue, but Sae speaks first.

"A warning?" She asks, her eyes narrowing. "What exactly are you going to be doing?"

"Well, it's not dangerous. There have been no sorts of injuries. What I mean, is that my science is a bit of a new practice. It's not something people look at as a legitimate avenue of study, and some people go so far as to call it pseudo science."

"And what's that mean? What exactly do you practice."

"It's a little hard to explain. But if I were to put it simply, it's imagining your psyche as a world or a plane of existence. A universe, even. Projecting your thoughts into physical manifestations. Now, obviously it isn't all your thoughts. Because even one person's brain would be impossible to traverse. With all the thoughts we have, traveling through a metaphysical manifestation of those thoughts would be the size of a universe. There would be too many thoughts and beings to witness even for a thousand of our lifetimes. But anyway, the point being, with the assumption or precursor of your thoughts as a realm, the science of exploring the psyche becomes a physical possibility. In that, you can explore consciousness and unconsciousness both through the representations found in that other world. So what I do is, in essence-"

Sae grabs doctor maruki by the collar of his lab coat and pulls him in. Easily displacing his balance, she stands at her full height about two inches taller than he. Just enough so that she can truly look down at him.

"Just shut up and do your goddamn job. I get it. If it works, it works. If it doesn't I'll never see you again. And if you try anything untoward? I'll string you up with a case tight enough you'll never loosen that noose around your neck. You understand?" Sae pants a little, her breath warm against his collarbone before she pushes him back slightly. "Sorry. Let's continue." She says gruffly.

Maruki nods, temporarily stunned into silence before he speaks. "Can I get you to lie down on the bed?"

Sae doesn't reply, but she complies. Settling down on the bed and lying flat.

"Okay, that's perfect." Maruki says. "Now, this might sound odd, but I can work best if you're sleeping."

Sae tilts her head, considering what he just said. But she gives him a nod.

"Don't worry, ma'am. You made yourself very clear. I promise you a smooth and efficient procedure. Now, make yourself at home, honestly. If you need me to exit or retrieve something to help you along, you can let me know."

"I'll be able to sleep better if you leave." Sae says bluntly.

Maruki flashes her a smile. "I'll be on my way then. He points up to a camera in the corner. "That camera there is monitored by my assistant. It serves two purposes. Firstly, so that I can review the footage for my own research and provide you with a more comprehensive evaluation. Secondly, the second pair of eyes

The granular microphone comes online, giving the man's voice a bit of a tinny sound. He sounds tired, but young as he speaks. "It's nice to meet you, Niijima. I know you can't see me right now, but I just wanted to say I'm a big fan." He isn't quite hiding his enthusiasm to see her.

"I didn't know I was so notorious." Sae grumbles. But it's odd. I feel like I've heard that voice before. Can't remember where for the life of me though. Hard to put a face to it. Her lack of memory at this moment frustrates her. And so she's glad that she's having this appointment. Maybe it'll somehow aid her memory so that this kind of thing doesn't happen again. In her line of work, It's obvious why remembering details would be important.

"Yeah. Well, my brother's actually has quite an interest in your legal pursuits. He's impressed and inspired by your record, as many have been. So, he's understandably a bit excited."

"Shouldn't we get started?"

"Ah, right. Well, good luck. I'll be back to begin as soon as you're ready. But don't feel pressured. It's best if you ease yourself into it and sleep naturally."

Maruki tips the lights off and gently shuts the door behind him as he leaves.

Sae's schedule is something like that of a soldier. She's used to running on minimal sleep, and as such, is used to sleeping wherever and whenever she can. Whether it be on trains, in her car, on the couch. Whatever's most convenient or allows for the most hours of sleep often comes before comfort.

So, for her to sleep here isn't an issue. The sleep deprivation makes sleeping anywhere easy. And it's aided further by the fact of the provided bedding. It's shockingly soft, enough to ever surpass her own conditions at home. It isn't something she's invested much in, but still, she feels that the bed she's sleeping in is top of the line. With comforting weighted pillows that she sinks into perfectly, the mattress swallows her mind into the world of dreams mercilessly with its speed. Sae has no way to know this, but Maruki targeted this bedding as one of his primary investments in order to aid his research. After all, the faster he has his patient sleeping the faster his procedure can begin. Their comfort is paramount to his discoveries.

"She's asleep, Maruki." His brother calls through the external microphone. Maruki who'd been idly observing from outside, prepares to get started. Running a hand through his hair, he pushes it back as if to slick it with gel. His hair revolts against the movement, falling back to where it's been combed into a side part. What he feels isn't nervousness. But a slight mix of adrenaline and anticipation. This is the most important client he's had yet. He's determined to unearth something for her. Something of significance.

Maruki scuffs the ground gently with the barstool chair beside the bed. Sure enough, she is unconscious. She fell asleep within minutes. Faster than most in a new environment. It can cause problems sometimes to be in an unfamiliar bed, but that's already known science. He's looking for new discoveries. Essentially, he's exploring a new universe. One only he can look into. How can he not be excited?

Maruki places a hand on Sae's forehead, and his fingers flow in a gentle green. A hue surrounds them as he lands on the skin of her forehead. Almost impossibly smooth, but cold. Like the surface of the moon, minus the craters.

"What do you want? What is it you desire?" Maruki coaxes, getting right to the point. As he speaks, the words seem to flow through his arm and into his hand. His hand glows a more intense green as he concentrates. Focusing his attention on the part of the brain he's reaching towards, the nucleus accumbens. The brain's primary pleasure center, and the section most important for desires such as dreams, goals, hopes and even addictions. It's not exactly something easy to access, so he puts a hand gently under her neck as well. That one also starts glowing just as green.

"Nngh." Sae groans low in her throat. Seemingly unwilling to disclose this part of her psyche. Like it's been locked away.

"Tell me." Maruki pushes carefully. "You know what you want. Just say it and it'll be true. You'll have everything."

"Kaoru." Sae mutters quietly. "I want to see you. Please."

Maruki has not yet developed his ability far enough to transport himself or others into entire worlds some would call palaces. However, in these early stages of his practices, he can open windows into the psyche. After prodding hints from his patients in their unconscious state, he can open a window into those specific desires. For the time, this power is rather outstanding. But he isn't anywhere close to his fullest potential. And it's only a matter of time before he realizes that fact.

"Perfect. I've got an in." Maruki says.

"What did you do?" His brother asks.

"Well, it's kind of hard to explain. I don't fully understand it myself yet, but I had an interesting meeting with someone. Something, more accurately. I was shown another realm of sorts, and after that I had a basis of which to apply that thinking here, to more practical science. What I'm doing is considering or believing in the fact of a universe inside every single person's mind. At first I wasn't sure, but after seeing that realm, that inexplicable place that was somewhere between the physical and death, the intangible and what we know as reality, it helped shape my study. And now I'm absolutely convinced. I know these worlds exist. And that's where I'm going now. I can't capture more than one idea yet, but I can bring out those unconscious thoughts for her and grant her desires. So, in this very moment, I'm going to use this power of mind to draw that image upon a portion of blank canvas in that place. Now that I have this power, this methodology, I can bring aspects of her world out into theirs. So that we can both witness it in different ways."

"That's an incredible power." Haruto says in awe. "But I genuinely can't believe it Maruki. That shouldn't be possible. No, it's completely inconceivable."

"Hey, who knows? Maybe I'm just insane. If I ever figure out how to share this, you'll be the first one I teach. But for now, at least you're the only one who can see this, right, Haruto?"

"What do you call it? Have you named that other world?"

"Well, if I were to name it something… It'd be The Interstitium Animarum. The Interstice of Souls. It's just too fitting to have it in Latin."

To that, Haruto has no response. For something as Intangible, untouchable, and all encompassing as Maruki says it is, it's perfectly fitting. There is no better name.

Sae trembles slightly, taking maruki's attention away from the conversation. "Whoa. Almost messed up there. Okay, I've gotta go."

So, peculiarly, maruki just falls softly, like he was just overtaken by a bout of exhaustion, his face bounces lightly off the mattress. And he joins her.

---

Sae's eyes flutter open. First, she feels the surprisingly soft surface of her desk.

"Sleeping on the job isn't like you, Sae." Kaoru says teasingly.

Sae wipes a little drool from the corner of her mouth. "Wasn't sleeping." She grumbles as she sits up and stretches in her office chair. They're right beside each other save for one desk in between them. It's just like the law firm they worked at. But weirdly empty. Sae isn't questioning it though. She's feels a bit of a veil over her mind. Like the haze you have after just awakening where your brain isn't fully operational yet.

"You know Sae, I never really liked my job." Kaoru opens, ceasing his typing as he kicks off in his chair and rolls backwards on the wheels.

"Really?" Sae asks, not yet glancing up from her computer as she postures herself properly. "I couldn't tell at all. You always seemed so happy."

Sae notices him out of the corner of her eye. Kaoru runs a hand sheepishly through his black hair at the nape of his neck. He hasn't turned to see her yet either.

"Yeah. That's a flaw of mine. I'm not the best at saying how I feel sometimes. I think I could've been more open. I could've shown a little more on my face how much I hated sifting through all that paper instead of stuffing it all down."

Sae blinks a couple times. "You always struck me as an open book, Kaoru. Was i reading you wrong this whole time?" She asks in concern.

"No, not really. It wasn't your fault, trust me. I just think I could've let more people in. That way, I could've told you about what was weighing on me."

"Right, Kaoru!" Sae exclaims, standing abruptly in her chair and leaving it spinning behind her. "You never told me! Kaoru-

"I wish I could, Sae." Kaoru interrupts, as if reading her mind. "But you know, dead men tell no tales, as they say. I couldn't tell you why, but my lips are sealed." He drags two fingers across his lips as if to close a zipper to finish his sentence?

"But didn't you want to tell me?" Sae asks. Clearly feeling betrayed.

"I did. Still do. Just like I wish I could've spent my birthday with you. But now, that isn't possible. We're here for a reason after all."

"You're not coming back with me?"

"You know I can't, Sae." Kaoru says softly. "Sorry for being mopey, honest. I know this probably isn't so fun for you. Agh. Whatever. I can't focus like this anyway." He presses the button firmly to turn his computer off with a deep sigh. Then, as if realizing something, he begins to speak again.

"I liked helping people, that's for sure. But I could've done without all the office work. You guys were great, obviously. Great friends. But I was always kind of unsatisfied. I always felt like I should've been doing more. That made me take some paths I normally wouldn't have. I got impatient. Fed up with my own complacency. Because what do I do? Get a few people off some light sentences. It's not like I'm taking the bullet for them." Kaoru scoffs. "Point being, I wasn't a hero. I never called myself one, and never deserved to be called that. I definitely think I was too rash, but I don't think I did the wrong thing. I don't think wanting to do more was a bad thing."

"How can you be so confident?!" Sae asks, her voice bordering on distraught. "How can you look yourself in the mirror and tell yourself that you're good. That you've done alright. That you've been a good person? Is it simple for you? God, Kaoru! You died so young. And you left. You left now. And I'm a mess and I. I don't know what to do!" Sae starts to cry softly into her hands as she settles back down in her chair.

"Want to talk about it?" Kaoru offers. "I'm here to listen for as long as I can."

Sae grounds her eyes down into her palms and then faces him. Their eyes meet. Hers not quite free of her tears despite her efforts.

"I fucked up today." Sae says. "It's all I've been doing ever since you left. Ever since dad left. I'm trying so hard, so hard. But Makoto just doesn't get it. I'm doing everything wrong, but I can't stop or we both might die. I can't let my little sister die, Kaoru. But I'm doing these bad things again and again. It's to the point where I struggle to even get up in the mornings. Not only that, it's hard to even care anymore. Because what can I do? What choice do I have? How many people can you doom before it becomes redundant. How many hits do you take before you stop feeling the pain? I don't have enough room in my heart for all of them. I'm changing. The system - it's changing me. And now? I can't deal with myself sometimes. So that's where the smoking and the drinking comes in. Helps me shut everything out. But it's wrong, Kaoru. I'm wrong."

"I don't think so." Kaoru replies. "I know you aren't a bad person, Sae."

"I almost broke my sister's nose today. That's not something a good person would do! I can't… I can't forgive myself. Not like this. I'm not the same."

"Honestly, it probably isn't. But you're stressed. Overworked. Please take care of yourself, Sae. Be a little easier on yourself. I know it might be hard, this might not be what you want to hear, but you inspired me every single day to be a better person. To be more confident in the person I am. To keep helping people. So, in that sense, I don't ever want you to change. But, you know? At the same time I'm looking forwards to how you might evolve as a person. I can't even fathom how you can improve." Kaoru says with a little laugh. "And, well, if you don't want to make things better because you don't like yourself, maybe do it for me?" He asks. And as he says those words he traces the skin of her cheek with the utmost reverence.

"Kaoru!" Sae cries. Her lips pursing as she bites down in vain. The tears spilling out down her face in sad little trails. Little rivers to map her topography. She holds onto his collar firmly. Practically lifting him up off the ground with trembling hands. She can hardly look him in the eye.

"This isn't fair Sae." Kaoru says with a tender smile of his own. "You look beautiful even when you cry. You're gonna make all the other girls in the world jealous."

"Don't say something stupid like that, Kaoru. I'm being serious! Ugh. My makeup." She whines. She's not even sure why that's what she fixates on, but you say weird things when you're emotional.

"Don't need it." He insists. Leaning in and kissing her. Close enough to make sure it's real. And, as if he's draining her anger away, she slowly loosens her grip on his collar until she's barely holding on. Melting into him.

A meeting of lips is all it is, but it's perfectly fitting for their first kiss.

There's a bit of panting after, both of them having held their breath in new ways, so Kaoru takes a natural step to give her some space. And after a bit of respite he speaks.

"I might be missing you over here," Kaoru starts, gesturing vaguely. "But don't be in any rush, alright? Because I can wait. I promise I'll be patient. And I know you. I'm pretty confident in that heart of yours. Just because you're feeling down. You're at your lowest. It sucks, trust me, I know. But I also know you'll bounce back. The sun's always that much more brilliant after a couple hours of rain. And you're Sae Niijima. I don't believe in you because of some perfect record or how many cases you win. It's not about how good everyone says you look or any sense of fame or money. It's because you're you. You're the only you there'll ever be. And I believe in that person longer than life."

"What does that even mean?" Sae asks with a watery laugh. Still tearing up.

"I'll let you figure that one out." Kaoru says with a smile. "If I keep talking I might say something dumb. So I'll let you interpret it."

"I'll shut you up." Sae mutters without the slightest hint of malice. Cupping his face in both hands, and leans in and presses her lips to his. Her eyes close and so do his as their lips meet again. A burst of warmth shooting through each of them, so intense you ought to have been able to see it. Like the embers from the hottest depths of the sun they're alight by the feeling of each other.

They don't make any attempt to seperate this time even as their lips break. Instead, they both look into each other's eyes.

"Looks like we're out of time. You going to be alright?" Kaoru asks.

"I'll be fine. I always manage."

"You won't just be fine. You'll excel, Sae."

---

Maruki looks at Sae with an expectant smile. "No issues physically or side effects I'd hope? How was it? Some people have intense experiences."

"It was intense. But in a good way. I got something valuable today." Sae says, sure of herself in that at least.

"That's great to hear!" Maruki says as she rises from the bed.

"I, I'll need some time to think. I might be back. I don't know." Sae says, sounding confused. "Send me the invoice. And, uh, thank you."

With that, Sae leaves Dr Maruki's clinic. Her heart as scattered as the stars in the sky.

April 7th, 2016. Modern day.

Ren tosses and turns on his sleep. Writhing in pain in his bed, he imagines walls that confine him. Inescapable walls that follow him no matter how fast he runs. If he were to try to break out he knows any tool would break and shatter into little shards. An inescapable prison. An inescapable sentence that will bind him for the rest of his life.

He wakes with a start, damp with sweat despite the cool temperature of his room. Birds proudly squawk their melody of song outside his window as sun pushes through the tiny gaps in the blinds.

Ren pushes himself out of bed and takes on the sight of his room. It feels like a permanent goodbye. And maybe because it is. There's nothing of particular meaningful significance to his room. No items he cherishes close to his heart. No family heirlooms or photos of splendor. But even despite this he feels a silent weight. One of sadness. There's some sort of intangible sense of loss as he leaves behind this near-empty room.

Ren packs his essentials in his backpack with heavy shoulders. He adjusts the glasses on his face. Not necessary for his sight, but rather as some kind of attempt at a new look.

I hope no one recognizes me. But there's no way. My mugshot could be online, and there'll probably be rumors. Ren buries his face in his hands. I can't believe this all. Did I not do the right thing? Should I just have kept to myself?

Ren shakes himself from those thoughts and continues to pack up. Toothbrush and toothpaste. His favorite sets of clothes; the ones in the best shape. Ren could care less about color or look. His phone in his pants pocket.

Tokyo… The big city. That's crazy.

His expression is weary. His eyes are half lidded, and his left eye twitches periodically. The color of his skin changes under his clothes. He almost unconsciously favors his right side. But all things considered, he's in better shape than he'd expect. Professionals set Ren's standards high.

Ren leaves the home with nary a glance of regret or anything, really. Not that he has the time. His hair is all mussed up and not as nice as he'd like. After all, it wouldn't do to make a bad first impression. As cliche it may be, he imagines the next year will consist of walking on eggshells. It's the most apt saying he can find to the situation. Either that, or he'll be kept on a short leash. Both are true, he thinks.

Ren squeezes between people to get on the train. Trying to make himself small so as not to anger anyone by bumping into them. An almost impossible task given the way the train is comically full. He isn't laughing, however. Rather, he frowns at his misfortune. There aren't any empty seats in sight, and he doesn't feel inclined to fight his way through the swaths of people standing in his way just to sit down.

Guess I chose the wrong car. Ren thinks. He was hoping this car close to the front of the train would've been more empty than the others, but he's quickly been proven wrong. However, unlike him, someone seems to have no shame or care for the opinions of others. A man with long brown hair strides between the masses, pushing them in the process. A few heads turn as he imposes himself, striding single mindedly towards the front of the car. But with his forcefulness, the seas part for the angry looking man.

Ren isn't even sure how he saw the man. He doesn't stand out. It was pure luck, pure coincidence. But as he raises his head to peer at the man, he isn't sure why he's looking, or what he's looking for. He isn't sure what caught his eye, if anything. And a brief warmth dances in Ren's chest, confusing him.

Weird. Ren thinks. He lowers his head without considering it much. It's just the back of someone's head - someone he doesn't even know, and his stop is coming up soon.

Out of sight, out of mind though. He fishes an old pen from his backpack, the read ink a pleasing color. The backpack isn't perfectly with holes and obvious rips, but it's served him well over the years. Even despite its outward appearance, it's robust and reliable. Like an old gun model that never seems to jam.

After some brief pondering on what to write today, the words seem to come naturally. It happens sometimes. A burst of fleeting inspiration. He knows by now it's best not to fight it. And rather, he lets his hand move freely to keep up with his mind.

I'd rather live a decade full of luster than a lifetime of monotony. Ren writes in his notebook.

"Is that what you truly believe?" A voice asks him.

"Huh?" He replies. Looking around the aisle of the train, he can't see anyone paying any attention to him. It's packed though, and conversation is ringing out everywhere.

Why's everything so quiet? Ren wonders. All of a sudden the usual cacophony of the train has all but died out. He can hardly hear the tracks below them being eaten up by their speed. There's only faint echoes of talking. Everything's very far away, like he's underwater. But that voice was very clear.

"You will die in the next 3 minutes."

The train is empty now. Ren is the only one present in the car. The windows are dark like the furthest recesses of the ocean. And the source of the deep voice is finally revealed. Before Ren stands a huge creature. Wide wings spread out across the aisle and his caricature is defined by deep red. Like the blaze of a fire. That of one that is unreal - one you'd see in a painting.

"Where are we?" Ren asks. The creature seems to bring it's head closer. It's so tall that It can't extend to it's full height. Instead. Having to stoop down, but still much taller than Ren or any human is. Even a wing must be at least the size of two Ren's. It's face almost resembles a knights cage. With armor like a visor over where it's mouth belongs and blazing eyes giving off the heat of an inferno.

"Somewhere you won't be able to understand." Arsene says. "This is our realm. We are the benefactors of your lives. Beings that, should we will it and you be a suitable candidate, grant you power."

The train seems to still rock along the tracks still, but it's a distant noise, like the silent roar of the ocean from just beyond the seaside.

"You have developed a unique power, straight from the hidden depths of your soul. One that is beyond our own comprehension, even as beings on a higher plane of existence than you. However, it is twisted. Mangled. Wrong. This power will no doubt shape your life going forwards. Sign this contract with me and I will keep your heart pumping. Unless, that is, you're fine with being complacent with injustice."

"I'm not." Ren mutters.

"That's exactly it." Arsene replies with a grin. "The reason you bear the weight of supposed sin in this very moment is because of your own righteousness. So accept this pact, and you will once again have a chance to fight for what you deem just. Should you accept this pact, I will grant you power. There will be others who may be similar, but none will be equal to you. All will become clear in your own time. And should you choose to accept, you will receive power directly from the amalgamation of your own desires."

"How can I trust you? None of this seems realistic at all."

"This realm should be enough to prove my legitimacy. My power. And of faith, I will offer you details of the contract. It comes with no guarantees. Naught but one. At the conclusion of your journey, you will return to yourself. And at that time, the choice you make will decide who you truly are. Is this acceptable? Will you accept this offer or fade into oblivion?"

"Are there any drawbacks to this?" Ren asks.

Arsene pauses. And the silence seems eminent with its weight. "There is a cost." The otherworldly being finally replies.

"What is it?"

"Time." Arsene replies. "You will sacrifice your time to me, and I will grant you not only the power to live beyond today, but to vanquish those who stand in your way."

"That's fine with me. I'll accept it." Ren replies. Quite quickly too.

"Very well. Your resolve is noted. We shall meet again." Arsene says. "Now, your signature."

Arsene extends its arm towards him. Ren meets Arsene's palm. Ren understands what Arsene is going for off of pure instinct. Instinct that doesn't make sense, but Ren doesn't fight it. This is his decision. He knows that much.

A burning sensation enters through his palm, then floods down his arm. Suddenly his chest fills with a flare of heat all over his core. And as soon as it bursts so intensely, it's gone.

Their palms disconnect as the heat dissipates. "Don't ever break a pact. The cost isn't one you'd be so willing to pay." Arsene says in parting as the world flashes back and forth, and then he's back in the train.

Ren looks up for the monitor, and finds no time has passed at all in the real world. At least, no significant time. He's still minutes out from his transfer.

The clock ticks by. Ren tenses up instinctively. Just a few more minutes and something's going to kill me. I signed his pact, so I'd better believe his warning too. They're both equally ridiculous, so I have to assume they're both true.

Ren checks the time on his phone through its spiderweb of cracks. Every minute passing makes him tense up more. He has his head on a swivel. Looking outside for enemies that don't exist. He has no clue what to expect.

Ren isn't the one who figures it out first though, despite his alertness.

"What is this driver doing!?" Someone yells. "We just passed my stop! I need to get off!"

Ren looks at the monitor, and sure enough, they just blew by a designated stop. Not only that, are they picking up speed?

Ren looks back to the nearest window.

Two seconds.

It takes a total of two seconds for their trains to pass each other. And Ren's current line isn't a bullet train. They've reached their maximum speed. Maybe beyond that if it's possible.

We're going way too fast. Ren thinks. Idiotic in its obviousness. The train begins to sway and lurch uncomfortably. Someone scrolling on their phone without hanging onto the rail falls forwards a few inches into someone else. The usual quiet of the train is broken.

Ren shoves and squeezes his way to the front of the train. He wouldn't normally be so forceful, but he doesn't have time.

"Do you want to be a hero?" Arsene asks him that question that's almost taunting at this point.

Ren increases his urgency. He bounds through the final few cars. It's pure luck that he's close to the front of the train. He's betting everything on this. In the few minutes he has, he's assuming that the problems must be in the front car. The driver.

Wading through a sea of bodies proves rather difficult. It must be at least 30 seconds or so until he's at the front, but he doesn't have the luxury of counting the time by. He just knows he has to rush.

The sound of the confusion of the passengers fades as the doors automatically shut behind him. Ren quickly dashes over to the emergency equipment. Flipping the glass display, he opens it up and grabs the tool. Ren doesn't even try the door. Firstly, it's probably locked. And even if it weren't the mechanism to open it is giving off subtle whiffs of smoke. It's been completely mangled.

The first hit cracks the window. The second hit breaks it. Ren tosses the tool aside, letting it thud against the metal of the flooring.

Going to be a tight fit. Ren grimaces in preparation as he prepares to vault through the window to the very front of the train. The pilots chamber.

Ren takes three big steps back. Giving himself ample room while also never stopping. He knows how little time he has. Taking off into a short sprint, he gives himself just enough leeway to reach top speed. And like an airplane taking flight, he pirouettes through the air. In a move similar to a high jumper, he makes it through the gap perfectly. But he's lucky it's not judged, because he falls painfully on his back, splitting a bit of his skin on the shatters of glass on the ground.

Ren quickly notices a man to his right, in all the uniform of a pilot. Ren fumbles his hands over the guy's clothes. Finding a disconcerting amount of blood. There are two holes in his chest. Close enough so he's reminded of two stars. Inseparable.

Ren pulls a sleeve back and puts two fingers to the man's wrist. A few seconds. Nothing. He puts those same two fingers to the side of his neck. Against an important vein. Nothing. He has no time to mourn or even pay proper respects.

The other pilot is single mindedly pressing the throttle forwards. Trying to make the train go even faster even if it's not possible.

Ren has to stop him. And luckily enough, in the pilot's irrational focus, Ren hasn't been noticed. Somehow he didn't hear the breaking of the glass. That, or he doesn't care.

With careful steps, Ren sneaks behind the man and constricts his arm around his neck. Ren's elbow right at his throat. He pulls back. Ren's right arm, the one doing the choking, holds his left arm. His left arm pushes the man's head further into the choke, trying to expedite the process. A rear naked choke. By applying multiple points of pressure, the average time to loss of consciousness is 9 seconds, if done correctly. Perfectly.

But Ren isn't a professional. His choke comes from assumption rather than practice and understanding. And, unfortunately for him, the man is an adult who is fanatically motivated to crash this train.

Despite the disadvantageous position, the pilot grabs onto Ren's constricting arm. Wrenching it away from his neck. Ren struggles to keep it choking, but he's overpowered. Ren's muscles start to burn. It's a simple difference in strength. Something impossible to overcome. Ren punches him. Once. Twice. Both in the temple. But his technique isn't refined enough to knock him out from so close.

Ren's sent back across the cockpit by an unathletic kick. It isn't elegant or particularly fast, but In these right confines, there isn't anywhere to dodge. Shaking off the pain in his head Ren stands, only to find the man now has a sizable shard of glass in his hand. It cuts into his fingers but he doesn't even seem to notice the blood. He's frothing saliva and something else from his mouth. A disgusting mixture.

Ren puts his hands up high. Getting stabbed isn't something he can avoid in such close quarters. All he can do is mitigate the damage. He needs to defend his head. That's all he can do.

Surely enough, the man stumbles forwards with surprising speed and goes right for Ren's temple. Ren blocks with his forearm. Feeling the burst of warmth that comes with pain. It cuts through his skin and adrenaline both as he lets out a cry. The man rakes it down his forearm. Tearing small clumps of skin and blood out onto the floor. Ren uses his free arm to isolate the weapon, pushing it from his skin. And he stops down on the man's knees until he buckles and falls.

The man slides free of Ren's arm. Ren tries to stay on top of him and succeeds, but he feels one, two, three stabs in his side. Each bringing a new focal point of pain as he's cut open. Now bleeding rather profusely onto the flooring. Ren dedicates both his arms to isolating the weapon. One hand is impaled by glass in the process, but Ren manages to keep their hands together. Bleeding onto the man's hand, he's able to take his own free, with the glass still embedded inside his palm.

Ren screams as he fumbles in a mess of blood and liquid. Finally he secures a position on the man's back. And in half a minute or so it's blissfully over. Ren chokes him into unconsciousness. Feeling the big body go limp.

And then the world explodes. Sound so loud it might as well have been nothing. The crunching of metal as the front of the car suffers the worst damage. The concussive waves of sudden stopping, of crashing, that reverberate through the entire train. People fly like ragdolls. Screams might ensue, but Ren can't hear them. He couldn't even hear his own voice if he tried. Somehow, at some mercy, the train finds itself at a halt. Ironically they find themselves at a station. The very first car of the train where Ren resides rode up onto the platform where people were waiting for their line. The thick windshield is broken, and from outside gore floods in. Blood and a mix of slosh and more solid organs. Like the most macabre soup. He can't stomach looking at it for long. They must've crashed right into people on the platform, and obliterated them on impact. They probably never saw it coming.

Most of the train has derailed and fallen to its side. Ren steps over the door, open now. A convenience. He leaves a trail of blood and other stuff behind him. He doesn't want to think about how much of it is his own. Blood falls from him like ink's splatters. Careless as it paints the ground in its shade.

It's a horror scene. That's what it is to him. The red of the emergency lighting dominates the space. Like weather itself people are basked indiscriminately in it's hue.

Blood is an ever present characteristic. There's no way to tell who's who. That goes for both the blood, the bodies, and sometimes, the living. Smoke makes for an unbearable internal sky. Rising up from flames that lick at what must be corpses. Ren finds the tool in his hand. Convenient. He begins a methodical search. Ignoring his lightheadedness, he traverses the cars with a heavy heart. Stepping on glass, he finds the dead everywhere. There's no reason for why he survived and all these people didn't.

Ren's breathing deepens. His hands perspire and his forehead is drenched in sweat. His heart clenches. Pounding through his chest.

There are survivors. Finally. Far few and in between. But still. Survivors. Desperately holding onto their lives by any means they can find. Ren can barely make out their faces. Maybe because of the darkness and broken red lighting. Maybe because of the blood that clouds his vision.

One man still stands. A bar through his eye like a spear. Blood dripping down as it bends, drooping towards the ground with his limp weight.

Bodies along the floor are broken. Limbs are backwards, or otherwise gone. Littering the way, Ren has to step over the freshly dead after checking them to make sure. Some, like the man, he doesn't have to.

Ren settles down beside a woman. She's sitting down. Unmoving but clearly alive as she cries out for help. Ren tries to console her. Tears prickle at his eyes. Mixing in with blood to singe his vision as he lifts her out. A girl, maybe his age but it doesn't matter. She's crying. Her legs aren't moving. And Ren hates to think of the implications. He's very careful about it. Ren knows ideally he shouldn't move her. He might even be causing her some pain right now, but he isn't going to leave her to burn. He carries her out on his back to the best of his ability. His throat feeling dry. Parched. After a grueling journey he manages to safely take her to the roof of the train. Settling her down far from the flames, Ren dives back in. Wading through bounds of fire, he goes back and forth. Back and forth. Every time he brings a new survivor. He's sweating unbearably at this point.

The people at the top of the train begin to dissipate. It seems officials are here. Directing a rescue of their own. By this point, Ren has to look extensively throughout the train. Time having lost its meaning, he's made journeys to every car. It must've been an hour. Maybe more. Maybe less. He feels lucky that the train hasn't exploded by now.

The fire department ushers him out of the train despite his reluctance. Great jets of water being launched towards the burning carcass of it all.

Eventually, fumbling with bloodied hands, Ren pries the hatch open and pops the window out with a monumental effort. His muscles burn with exhaustion that feels days deep. He doesn't think it would've been possible to escape without the support of the firemen. In his state he's pretty useless. Even just lifting his limbs to walk feels impossible. The train's side is now its roof, and somehow Ren manages to clamber his way slowly to the top.

Ren emerges from the window of the train. Onto what is now the roof, he stands shakily. Alone. Having just escaped the licks of the flames behind him. He's all worn out now. This isn't an exhaustion he can fight off.

Gasps and muffled screams still ring out. That and the sound of crying is present. Sirens ring out far, far in the distance. Like a memory. Ren turns over his shoulder and sees a well put together woman in a business suit, looking shocked at the sheer level of destruction before her. Though she seems to be looking at him, actually. Silver hair. Sharp, piercing red eyes. A briefcase in tow and a slight weariness or slump to her shoulders. Only offset by the fact of her alertness.

Do I have something on my face? Ren might've quipped. But he doesn't have the energy for that right now. It would be distasteful even if he had the energy. With all this death, he feels like puking. But maybe that's all the smoke he inhaled.

Ren's eyes flash with recognition. He remembers that woman. It's the one taking him in. The one in the news sometimes.

"Nice to meet you, Miss Niijima." Ren manages as his last words before unconsciousness takes him, and he falls in a sort of bow down off the edge of the train's side.