Chapter Text
===
The colorful lights that lit up Tokyo at night were beautiful.
Which was good, because they were the last thing he planned on ever seeing.
A figure dressed in a black costume with a red spider-like symbol on his back stood at the edge of a very tall building. Skyscrapers and blinding billboards lined the skyline, a vibrant contrast to the turmoil within.
This is it , he thought to himself, staring down at the crowd of people below that seemed like nothing more than specks of dust. His foot trembled as he tried to take a step forward, though he wasn't sure if the fear came from the thought of dying or the thought of living.
Every moment of hesitation felt like an eon, though nothing could convince him that this wasn't the only way out.
After all, even if he didn't do this now, he would be a dead man within a week. He couldn't be sure that he would be the only one, either.
Just do it already! He screamed in his mind, his soul shattering more and more as his foot left the edge of the building. His breathing became faster and faster, his heart pounding harder than his future pursuer's fist into his skull. He refused to acknowledge the tear that started falling from his eye, getting absorbed into his mask before it could fall down his cheek. But nothing could stop him now.
And at that moment, he fell.
He felt as if time had almost stopped, and as it did he started to think. He started to wonder if he was making a mistake. He started to wonder if there was anything beyond this moment. He started to wonder if it was too late to shoot a web and save himself. If his fate was sealed.
And for a moment, just a brief moment, his life flashed before his eyes.
==About Two Months Ago ==
The apartment door creaked open.
Akira stood in the doorway, trembling like a leaf, praying his neighbors hadn't seen the storm streaming down his face. He'd expected a warm welcome, but the house lay still, much to his surprise.
Perhaps his father wanted to leave it to his son's pace. Inside, Akira was thankful. Despite the repeated calls and shoutings from the crowd, he could never find the words to say.
He didn’t think he ever would.
But it was the first time he had ever tried something so drastic; he’d probably have a few months to articulate himself before it all came crumbling down again. The rest of his life was what he told himself. Though, on second thought, maybe it wasn’t the wishful thinking he thought it was. He wasn’t sure what he preferred.
But he was alive, and that was what mattered. His father was waiting for him, and that was what mattered. They would cry, but they’d cry in each others’ arms; that was all that mattered.
Akira sucked in a breath only to never let it out. He tried again, only for his voice to echo faintly.
“...Dad?”
No response. He cursed his father for deciding to let him take the lead, something he probably read in one of his various books on how to handle loons like him-
He bit his tongue and shut the door slowly. “Depression”, they called it. “Anxiety”, they called it. So many words to describe the symptoms of a lost cause.
“...Dad, I’m… I’m home,” He called quietly. The lights were on, the TV was on pause. Maybe instead of talking, they could watch a movie. He almost smiled at the thought.
His backpack was waiting for him on the couch. He almost wished it had disappeared when he ran off, but the physically and emotionally heavy object was intact, and it needed to be carried off to his room.
Turning to the hall, the sound of hacking struck him through the silence. A dull scent caught his attention. Adrenaline rushed through him.
There was a disturbing familiarity to them both.
Akira crashed into the door faster than he could open it, only to collapse at the sight before him:
Blood. Blood pouring from the open wound on his father’s chest, a knife situated firmly inside it. Had his heart still been pounding, Akira wondered if it would have been louder than his own.
He begged himself to run to his side, but fear locked him down like he were part of the ground itself. Instinctively, his head whipped around for the threat, finding nothing and no one.
But there was always something. Always something he should have seen .
A muffled thud caught his ear. His foot slowly inched toward the closet. He thrust his phone out.
128-
121#-
14251890-!!
He smashed the numbers on the keypad in a frenzy, until finally holding the phone to his ear.
My Dad is dying, he rehearsed internally as he approached the door.
He was murdered! He cried to himself, hearing the first dial tone.
But he was bigger, he was braver, better than the cowards who killed behind a mask. Hearing the second dial tone, he placed his hand on the doorknob.
I’ll kill him, I’ll kill him! He screamed under his throat, tightening his grip. With the third tone, he twisted the doorknob with a trembling fury-
A pounding pain was the first thing he registered upon collapsing to the floor. The blur of a black figure slammed the door open the second he opened his eyes. Anger brought him to his feet faster than his heart could handle, banging it against his chest as hard as his feet tore across the floor.
The floor became the street within seconds, and for a moment he was certain he would die soon too. His lungs screamed for air, his heart begged him to stop, but the killer was alone, and it was only a matter of time before he would slip away into a crowd.
With the force of his fist or the speed at which he stopped, Akira was flung backwards by the man’s sudden swing. But despite the dull pain spiking in his skull, he lunged for him, grabbing his leg to tear him down. The man called to someone in terror and slammed his fist into the boy’s skull, breaking his grip at last. Akira forced himself upward to find pain shooting through his body, and collapsed again. The fractured thoughts he struggled to have only screamed at him to keep running, on all fours if he had to. He threw himself forward.
All he could process was that he was neither on the man nor the pavement, but the blaring of sirens gave him a clue as to how he was seemingly floating.
He was dragged backwards by a pair of officers, the other man being shielded away. Akira tried to tear himself away, but the muffled screams of the officers and their firm grips squeezing the blood from his arms dragged him further and further.
“HE FUCKING KILLED HIM!!” He tried to scream, but all that came out were primal cries. Another officer gripped his scalp and tossed him into the car. His screams continued as he banged violently on the window, crying out as he watched the man be escorted into his own car, a knife still strapped to his leg.
But above all, he cried for his father, dying alone without him, without help, without so much as a damn from the world around him. He could feel his body failing him at last, his fist growing weaker and weaker until he couldn’t hear it over his pounding heart.
His mind faded with it, his thoughts growing weaker until he could only form a single thought:
My Dad is dead.
My Dad is dead.
My Dad is dead.
===
"Daichi Kurusu!" Akira yelled. "He was murdered by that man and-!"
"For the last time, Kurusu-san, this 'Daichi' doesn't appear in-"
"Look again!!" He screamed. "Fucking look again!! I saw my dad die , you can't fucking tell me he doesn't matter to-!!"
“Security!” the lawyer said curtly.
He was aggressively dragged back by two officers, away from the lawyer's office and back into the lobby.
"LET GO OF ME!!" he screamed. "LET GO OF ME AND MAKE HIM LOOK AGAIN, PLEASE!! "
Tears streamed down his face as he thrashed violently in their grasp. But by the time he tore himself free, the door was slammed in his face.
“Your time was up anyway,” the officer said dryly. Akira stared wide-eyed into the door. “We need to get you back to the detention center.”
===
“The defendant will be sentenced to a year of probation,” said the judge.
Akira walked quietly with an officer off the stage, stopping at the presence of the man in charge of the detention center.
“You will be escorted to your home and given one night to pack your things,” he said. The boy’s eyes shot up. “You’ll be provided any necessary cases for your luggage, but do note that they will be shipped tomorrow morning before you leave and will arrive at your new residence. Now,” He ushered the boy forward with his hand.
===
It was as if they had never moved in.
All that remained untouched was his room, all for his idiocy in accidentally locking it before he left. It seemed even thieves couldn’t be bothered enough with them to break down a lousy door.
He was grateful to receive help to open it, but the smell of the bloodstained carpet made packing much harder than it already was.
He eyed a photo on his shelf.
It was the first to enter the suitcase.
===
He scratched at his neck, loathing whoever made this horrible uniform and its horribly uncomfortable sweater.
The only thing that brought him solace was the fact that he was alone, something he was certain he wouldn’t have the privilege of after being treated like a rabid dog for the past 2 weeks. But as the trial came and went, the fury in his soul slowly left him, leaving a husk in its wake waiting for the train.
The rumbling train came to a stop in front of him. Few people exited, leaving him a clean slip-through onto the train car. He sat down slowly and eyed his notes, telling him there would be many stops taken before he would arrive in Tokyo. He rested his head against the window. The train hummed to life, slowly bringing itself to a speedy departure from the home he barely knew.
It wasn’t like the train was foreign to him, he’d ridden them time and time again. But with the seats next to him empty, and no father’s shoulder to rest on, the world he had little grasp on left his understanding again.
All he could hope now was that he could find a way to fall asleep.
===