Chapter Text
The next station is Shibuya. Shibuya. The platform is on the left. Please watch your step and stand behind the yellow line for your safety. Please change for the-
Akira's eyes snap open.
'Same goddamn dream again...' He thinks to himself, massaging his forehead.
He rubs his eyes from under his glasses, getting rid of that scratchy gunk on the corners.
He puts the open book he picked up from his mother's cabinet away into his bag. Carl Jung's "Archetypes and the Collective Unconscious." He felt lucky he hadn't let go of it during his brief nap.
He hadn't gotten very far, considering he'd spent a fair amount of time being smushed by sweaty salarymen.
He stands up, grabbing hold of a handrail to stabilise himself. He waits for the train to actually reach the platform.
The uniform he's wearing feels stuffy and sticky against his skin. He had a mind to go out and buy some clothes right away.
If only his parents actually allowed him to at least pack a suitcase before his departure.
His mother hadn't spoken to him since the incident, and his father, bless his soul- had explained the entire ordeal to his mother.
Apparently, the guy that fell on his ass and had Akira arrested was some political figure. His mother was a lawyer, and though he didn't know where her allegiance lay, he could guess by the radio silence and the fact that he they gave him an express ticket to Tokyo that she probably didn't trust Akira that much.
He wasn't aware of who she worked with or why she wasn't hearing him out at all. The only thing he knew about her job was that it kept her busy or on phone calls more often than not.
Akira doubted that the case, even with eyewitness testimony, would've held up in court. But the judge had expedited the ruling. "Open and shut case" , they'd called it.
No doubt that asswipe was on the politician’s payroll.
It could barely even be called a fucking trial-
Breathe. Calm yourself, you're in public.
He diverts his mind as his ears pick up an interesting conversation from some high school girls.
"Are you for real? A mental shutdown?" One of them says.
"It's the truth!" she defends, "The news said so."
"To a real person, though?" the other said, sceptical, "That’s gotta be a gag, doubt the news more, would you?"
'Mental shutdown?' Akira thinks to himself, pulling out his phone.
The first link took him to an article that said eighty people were dead in a subway incident. Which included a diplomat and a CEO.
'How is this not getting national coverage? A subway incident in Tokyo?' He thought to himself, confused.
He felt conscious about being on a train now.
We are now arriving at Shibuya. Shibuya. This is the end of the Ginza Line. Please watch your step on the way out.
Once he gets off the train, he leaves the station, inputting the address ping his father gave him into his map application.
Some odd application pops up, he raises a brow.
'Malware? A virus? I just got this phone...' He deletes the app, thankful that it goes away when he does.
Once he gets the directions...
'Seven kilometres? In this sun? I think I was supposed to change lines...' He sighs.
Scrolling up from his father's recent chats, he finds the instructions.
And yep, sure enough, he missed a line change at Shibuya.
He looks around the busy square; the place seems familiar. Like he'd walked across multiple times through the crossing.
'My jacket feels emptier. So does my shoulder.' Akira sighs.
Perhaps he was just tired from the trip.
The wind stagnates, and the hair on the back of his neck stands up. His eyes snap from his phone onto Shibuya Square.
Time seems to have stopped. There's an odd blue glow, dead centre of the square.
He looks around, wondering what the hell was going on, when suddenly, the glow turns into a fire.
A fire he feels an odd kinship with?
As soon as he sees the contours of a face, he blanks out, and everything turns back to normal.
'Am I hallucinating?' He shakes his head.
That would track, considering whatever he saw felt familiar. The brain couldn't conjure images by itself, anyway.
He walks back to the station, hoping that the train car he got in was relatively empty.
Thankfully, it isn't, and the ride doesn't last long. He heads up and out of the subway and walks into the general area he's supposed to be in.
He's hit with déjà vu as soon as he enters the backstreets of Yongen-Jaya. It feels like a little slice of the hometown he grew up in. He didn't think a place like this would be in the middle of the city.
To his left was a second-hand electronic store, and to his right, down the alley, was a cafe.
"Sakura... Sakura..." He murmurs to himself, looking through the nameplates of various buildings.
He spots an alley with a cafe, bathhouse, an old hardware store and a laundromat.
He walks past, heeding the directions an annoyed officer had offered.
He rang the doorbell, but after getting no response, a deliveryman stole his attention.
The delivery man helpfully redirected him, explaining that the man named Sakura managed a cafe around this time, so he wouldn't be home.
Akira had nodded and backtracked to the cafe he'd seen. "Cafe Leblanc", it was called. The exterior was alright, nothing much of note.
As he walks in, the entrance chimes jingle.
He's greeted by an intense smell of coffee and a hint of spice emanating from the bar to his right, and two coffee siphons resting on the bar were probably the source. Right behind it, he could see wooden shelves that contained a smorgasbord of coffee beans stored in airtight glass containers.
There was a small kitchenette equipped with a stove, fridge and sink behind the bar in the left corner.
To his left were three diner-style booths, one of which was occupied by an elderly couple chatting away. A man solving a crossword occupied a central chair at the bar.
The man whom he assumed was the manager was wearing white trousers and shoes of the same colour, along with a pink shirt and a black and white striped apron over it.
A sharp pain takes hold of his head.
Akira sees, in a distinct vision, an orange-haired girl eating some curry, with him wearing an apron, operating a coffee siphon and a man sitting down with the girl.
'Futaba. Mona.' The names pop up in his head before he can even think.
Immediately, the pain intensifies into one that feels as though it's grabbing and crushing his brain. Akira grits his teeth, holding himself together as he clutches his head.
He shakes his head, feeling like he's forgotten about a major part of his life.
The repeated familiarity of this situation and that weird feeling of something being just the slightest bit off felt inherently wrong.
He feels like vomiting.
There's a tabloid of another mental shutdown playing on the TV, this one of a public bus transit. According to reports, no public figure was on it. Akira files that away.
The man puts down his crossword, his gaze snapping up at Akira and then down at his watch again.
"Oh right," The man says, "They did say that was today." He gets up from his seat.
The customers get up, "There's no worry of a car crash here since this place is in a back alley." The man says.
"A what now?" The manager of the cafe asks.
"There's been a series of those events happening around the city. You should stay safe." The woman says.
"We'll be going now, thank you for having us." The man says, dipping his head as they both exit.
"Seriously. Four hours for a single cup of joe." The manager says, shaking his head.
The man turns to him, "So you're Akira, I take it?"
Akira's pupils dilated, his hands shaky. He forcefully tried to compose himself, blaming it on hunger.
Akira nods, "Kurusu Akira, please take care of me," he greets with a curt bow.
Akira notices the way the man's brows shoot high for just a moment.
"Uh-huh." The man nods, "I'm Sakura Sojiro. You'll be in my custody for the year."
Akira nods. The man continues, "One of my customers spoke with your parents and-"
Sakura cuts himself off, "Not like it matters. Come with me."
Akira nods, following the man as they walk upstairs.
He's met with an attic that was presumably used for storage, covered in enough dust to build a sand castle with.
Cluttered was the light word to describe it. The only place he could get to without an obstacle was the shelf that held the bags of coffee.
Akira's wondering how this man got custody for a year with no livable space.
The man seems to realise this, speaking up, "Because of various circumstances, I can't have you living back at my place."
'But he can have me stay at his cafe?' He thinks to himself, puzzled.
"You look like you wanna say something." The man says, placing a hand on his hip and fixing Akira a look.
Akira takes a pause, "It's... big." He says, a bead of sweat dripping down his cheek.
"It's up to you to clean the rest of this up and turn this into a livable space for yourself. There are supplies in the washroom; use them as necessary." Sakura-san says, heading down.
Akira pulls out a handkerchief and wraps it around his face to cover his mouth and nose. Getting busy would hopefully help his mind.
After getting a broom and a duster, he's sure the place will look better.
The cleaning was mostly done. Akira had assembled a bed with some wooden crates, a pretty rough mattress and old sheets. He'd put most of the room's things in organised spots.
The desk and the shelf were both occupied with various books centred around psychology. He wondered if Sakura- san majored in it.
He took another look at the room. He’d finished dusting and mopping. Thankfully, the bathroom in the room was already clean.
Taking another look at the misshapen bed though...
He should probably go buy a bed frame when he has the time.
And a mattress.
And a pair of sheets.
And some new pillows.
And a lamp.
Maybe some fertilizer for the half-dead plant.
And perhaps some slippers.
And-
Probably best to make a list.
"I heard a lot of moving around, but I didn't think you were actually cleaning."
Sakura-san says, impressed.
Akira heard his footsteps come up a while ago, the man seemed to have made them heavy on purpose since Akira didn't hear them as well when they went up.
"What do you want to do with the books and... other stuff?" Akira asks, putting the mop away.
Sojiro looks at them- old belongings, books from his college days and the like.
"I'll get someone to take this to my storage unit." The man says dismissively.
Akira takes off his handkerchief and puts it away in his pocket.
"Now then." The man says, turning to Akira.
"I got the gist of your situation." He says.
Akira feels his stomach drop.
'Not this again...'
"You tried to protect a woman from a man forcing himself on her, he got injured and sued you, right?"
'Oh, thank god he knows the full story.' Akira breathes a breath of relief.
"He fell by himself and got hurt. I guess his ego got hurt with him." Akira shrugs, annoyed at the memory.
"That's what you get for sticking your nose where it doesn't belong. Be smarter about things next time, keep a recording or something." Sakura-san says, shaking his head.
"Though you did good by that woman, you ended up with a record and on probation. The thing didn't even go to trial because the guy was a politician." He continues.
"C'est la vie, eh?"
Sakura raises a brow, "What?"
"Nothing. You were saying?"
He glosses over it, "So they got rid of you after expelling you from high school, and gave you a court order to come down here."
"Don't talk about anything and keep your head down for the year. The court will lift the probation if you keep yourself out of trouble. Err even once, it's back to jail."
"I'm well aware," Akira says.
"Good. I trust you'll act like it. I'll be leaving after locking up each night, don't try something stupid like sneaking out the window."
"I'll leave a plate of food in the fridge for dinner. Heat it up at night. Try to get a good night's sleep, we have to head out early in the morning."He says, dreading the thought.
'Walking up early on a Sunday? Why?' Akira thinks to himself.
"Where are we going?" Akira asks.
"Shujin Academy. We'll be going by car to-morrow, but you'll have to know the train route by Monday, I can't drop you off every day."
"Got it," Akira says, pulling out his phone to check the routes.
"Your luggage came here a while ago. Head downstairs and pick it up when you want." The man says, leaving.
"Goddamn waste of my Sunday..." The man says, shaking his head.
'Agreed.' Akira nods.
He's already dreading speaking to the teachers and hearing that same lecture again.
He's in the mood to just lie in bed and take some rest, but the journey was pretty long, he'd still need to bring his luggage up, and he was still hungry.
Even that uncomfortable ass bed looks inviting right now.
But alas, delayed gratification was the best gratification.
He heads down.
Sakura-san was stood behind the counter, presumably waiting for customers.
"Your luggage is right over there." He says, pointing beside the door.
Stashed just in front of the bar, lay a sizable box, presumably filled with whatever his dad had managed to courier over.
Akira moves towards it, intending to pick it up, until Sojir- Sakura-san stops him.
"Wait. Have you eaten anything?" Sakura asks, raising a brow.
"Uhhh, I grabbed a melon pan before I got on the train.”
The man seems annoyed at that, "Come here."
He pulls out his wallet, taking out some money.
And as though sensing Akira's protests, he speaks up, "I'm your guardian, since there are too few ingredients left, I can't cook for you. Go get something to eat."
"I have the mone-"
The man takes Akira's hand and places the cash in his palm.
"This isn't about the money." The man shuts him down immediately.
Sakura stares at him for a bit, observing his complexion.
"Are you anaemic or something?" He asks after a while.
"No, why do you ask?" Akira says, shaking his head.
"If you aren't keeping well, there's a walk-in clinic down the street. She's eccentric, but she does good work." The man says, adjusting his glasses.
Akira nods, "Thank you." He says, slotting the cash into his wallet.
"This goes without saying, but don't stay out too long."
"Got it."
He heads up and goes into the washroom with his clothes* puts on a pair of baggy, open-bottom pants and a forest green, loose-fitting, full-sleeved t-shirt, he ties that up with a pair of white low tops.
He packs his other backpack with deodorant, perfume, a water bottle and other essentials.
"I'll be back before eleven." He says once he heads down.
"I close at ten-thirty. If you still want shelter, be back by ten." The man says, not looking up from his book.
"Okay..."
He steps out to be greeted by orange skies and a setting sun. It was around six p.m. now; he had around three hours if he wanted to return at a respectable time.
He heads back to the station, deciding to go to Kichijoji, which requires a line change at Shibuya.
He pulls up the location he'd seen all over SNS as of recent, noting that it was just a short walk from Kichijoji Station.
There was a small signboard labelled "The Daps." The only other things that identified the place were the pin on his map and the copious amount of pop culture material they had on display.
He walks in, greeted by the sound of Puerto Rican music playing on some good quality speakers. Though he isn't familiar with the lyrics, the vibes get through.
"Welcome," The man greets with a smile, "What'll you be having?"
He takes a second to look at the menu.
"The authentic chopped cheese and a side of nachos." He says after a moment.
"Want something to drink with that?" The man said casually.
"Got any Diet Coke?"
"Yep. Is that to go or for here?" The man asks.
"For here," Akira said, taking a moment to observe the restaurant.
The place was... striking, to say the least. Loads of classic rappers and a lot of other bits of American culture were on display around the space. Vinyls, records and album covers, the whole shebang. There was also a DJ set in the corner.
The thing that stood out the most was the seating arrangement. Seemed like a makeshift one; bricks layered around unevenly to create high ground was about the easiest way to put it.
Akira found a spot so that he could lean back and relax, his back was tired after all that travelling.
The smell of beef cooking hits his nose, stimulating his appetite further.
Thankfully, he didn’t have to wait too long.
As soon as he bites into his sandwich, he's greeted with creamy, meaty goodness.
The nachos, loaded with meat, cheese, some veg and salsa, looked divine.
Sure, the portion size was a bit too much, but he hadn't eaten a solid meal in two days. He couldn't be arsed about the calories in this one meal.
The owner seems satisfied with his work as he sees yet another new customer turn into a regular in one bite.
Satisfied and stuffed beyond his usual amount, he pays the bill and walks out.
He would certainly return there.
He still had a fair amount of time left, even if he factored in travel, since it took around forty minutes to get here.
He had around two hours to himself.
Atrè Kichijoji was pretty close by, he could go shopping for some clothes since he desperately needed more than just two or three outfits.
Since it was a pretty big mall, he could grab some decor for the drab room he had back at the cafe.
He walked there, digesting the heavy meal he'd just consumed along the short distance.
After admiring a few cherry blossom trees by the roadside (he assumed there'd be very few of those in the city; he was glad to be wrong); he steps into the mall, looking around for the stuff he needs.
After walking through the mall for a short while, he realized one thing.
'Tokyo prices are high!' He thought to himself, checking the purchase history on his banking app.
He'd spent a fair chunk of his funds on clothes for the season.
He also got toiletries from the brand he was using, which, funnily enough, fetched him almost the same as the clothes. He felt more thankful to his mom for this stuff.
'Not like I was planning on compromising, but still.' He thought to himself as he stored the receipts into his bag.
His shopping bags were sitting on a different chair, and he leaned back on his own and looked around.
If he wasn't before, he certainly felt it now. The feeling of being far from home.
The crowd was slowly receding; he doubted he could assume so for the trains, but the mall was definitely emptying out now.
He lets out a heavy breath, closing his eyes and reminding himself of home.
A gentle morning breeze displaced his hair; he leaned over his room's balcony, the only source of warmth being the mug of tea in his hand.
First year of high school had ended without much trouble. He’d done well and got second place in the finals, having lost first to the class president.
He didn't really mind, though; she worked harder than he did for it.
He was enjoying his last week of vacation, relaxing, since they'd gone overseas for a vacation .
He was feeling nervous for his second year.
So much for that.
He was used to moving around as a kid because of his mother's work, but her post settled for around three years, so he'd finally gotten used to making friends and not having to say goodbye within the year.
Just when he was finally feeling good about things...
His mother's words came to mind.
It was some kid's issue. Akira was being forced to apologize when it wasn't even his fault, so he was nagging about it.
"If there's one thing I know in this line of work as a woman, it's that life's unfair. Men with half my qualifications and age are getting bonuses and promotions before I do. The only thing we can do is get used to it, learn to bend, Akira. Lest you end up breaking."
Her voice was stern, and if Akira didn't know any better, he'd say she was bitter.
Now though, he can tell she was just annoyed.
'Yeah right. I'd rather break than bend anyway.' He gets up, grabbing his bags.
'But I suppose that means suffering the consequences of my actions too.'
A woman speaking in heavily accented Japanese interrupts his thoughts.
He'd made out "eki" from whatever she was saying, so he spoke up.
From her accent, he could deduce that she was probably from the United Kingdom.
"Kichijōji Station?" He spoke in perfect English.
"Oh, yeah. Kichijōji Station, sorry for bothering you." She replied, bowing slightly.
"No, no. It's alright. You just have to go that way," He points, "towards the west exit. Connects directly to the station."
She nods, smiling brightly, "Thank you so much!"
"No problem." He replied as she walked away.
It takes a moment for him to process what just happened.
'Since when can I speak English?' He thinks to himself, perplexed.
A piercing headache takes hold again, duller than before, but still painful.
'Since Takamaki Ann taught you.' He instinctively replies to himself.
Something seriously fucked up was going on with his head.
Since he wasn't keen on being branded a psycho along with all the other shit though, probably best to just leave it instead of going to a clinic and getting diagnosed with schizophrenia.
He makes his way back to the cafe.
x-X-x
Sakura -san gives him a nod of approval when he returns fifteen minutes before the agreed-upon curfew.
"Did you eat?" The man asks first.
"Yeah, I'm full."
"Good. I'm going to lock up and leave soon." The man says, handing him a note.
"Keep that number saved. If something happens that you consider a cause for concern when I'm not here, call me."
Akira takes the note, nodding, "Got it." He says.
He heads up to the attic and drops his bags off on the sole free table; though he does want to rest, he decides to change into suitable clothing first.
After washing his face and brushing his teeth, he puts on something comfy for the night and lies down on the bed.
After adjusting his posture numerous times, he arrived at a conclusion.
‘I've lain on tatami more comfortable than this.’ He thought to himself with a groan.
Fuck it, what was almost a hundred thousand yen (installation included) if it meant a year of comfort?
He’d head out as soon as he was done with school to-morrow.
“Kid! You forgot the luggage, get down here and pick it up, will you?” The man said from downstairs.
He was planning on doing that anyway, and since the bed wasn’t exactly keeping him comfortable, he might as well just do it now.
He heads downstairs with a groan.
“Good,” The man says, now wearing a jacket instead of his apron. “I’m going to lock up and head out. Like I said, if something comes up, don’t hesitate to call me.”
“I understand,” Akira says, crouching with his back straight and picking up the box in one swift motion, “see you to-morrow.”
“Huh,” The man says, “you’re stronger than you look.”
“This isn’t that heavy,” Akira says, easily walking up the stairs.
‘I must be getting old, then.’ The man thought to himself as he walked out.
Akira stores the box in the only free space, at the bottom of the same shelf that holds the coffee. He opts to check its contents later, considering he doesn't even have a wardrobe to store the clothes he just bought.
Best to leave it alone until he actually has some storage.
He moves to the table, taking the paperweight off the note and pulling out his phone.
He quickly saves Sakura-san's number and moves back into bed.
He decides to look up some information on Shujin Academy to try to quell his anxiety, but that same app shows up again.
‘I need to back up my data and reset this phone. Hopefully Dad sent my laptop.’ He thought to himself, deleting the app again.
Frustrating. He put his phone away and closed his eyes.
His heartbeat picks up. An unfamiliar city, a new room, no friends and no support.
He feels like vomiting. Uncertainty and anxiety run rampant in his brain.
He picks his phone back up, putting on some music to take his mind off things. He searches for Yuki Saori, an artist his mom used to play often.
He closes his eyes, the anxiety slowly fades as he's reminded of his exhaustion.
Sleep takes him.
He wakes up to opera music and the distinct feeling of some cold, heavy weight on his wrists and one of his ankles.
‘How did Spotify manage to change the genre by that much?’ He thought to himself as he got up on the uncomfortable bed.
He takes a look at his hands, then his surroundings.
‘My subconscious must be fucked up if I'm lucid dreaming of being imprisoned.’ He thought as he stepped off the bed.
He hears a childish chuckle and sees a pair of twin sisters standing in front of his cell.
He walks up to them, realizing there was a fucking ball made of iron to hinder his movements. It didn't end up functioning that well - he blamed his brain - since he walked with ease.
The twins part; he sees the sight of a very hideous-looking man.
‘That guy looks like some grotesque Dora-emon character…’ Akira thought to himself, wincing at the sight.
“Trickster,” The man spoke, his voice deep and resounding, “welcome to my Velvet Room.”
“So you've come to, inmate.” One of the twins - the one on his left- spoke.
“The you in reality is currently asleep, you are only experiencing this as a dream.” She continued.
“No shit,” Akira said.
“Watch your tongue in front of the master!” The other twin chastised.
“Right, I should probably watch my language in front of kids.” Akira said, apologizing.
“We are not-”
“I am most delighted to make your acquaintance,” The man said, interrupting them, “this place exists between dream and reality, mind and matter.”
“Only those who are bound by a contract may enter.”
‘I don't remember signing anything.’ Akira thought to himself.
“I am Igor, the master of this place. You would do well to remember that.”
“Why are you here? I don't remember signing jack.” Akira asked, raising a brow.
“I am here due to matters concerning your life. This room reflects the state of your mind. It's the first time a Velvet Room has appeared as a prison.” The man said, chuckling to himself.
‘Vague, not to the point. Mom would tell me to ignore this guy. Obvious scammer.’ Akira thought, clutching his chin between his index and thumb.
“It seems in the near future, ruin awaits you.”
“Are you kidding me? Next thing you're gonna do is ask me to transfer all my money to some random account.” Akira said, scoffing.
“I am no jester, trickster. Tell me, have you ever seen mine, or the attendant's faces?” The man asks, not irritated at his scepticism.
Akira takes a look at him, and then the twins, and is reminded of a study he'd read a while ago.
The brain is unable to conjure faces it hasn't seen before.
“This is real?”
“Very much so. You must be rehabilitated towards freedom. Do you have the resolve to challenge the distortions of the world?” The man asks, dramatically.
“I'd prefer avoiding ruin.”
“Then, allow me to assist and observe your rehabilitation.” The man says.
“Ah, where are my manners? Allow me to introduce you to the wardens. To your right is Caroline, to your left, Justine.”
Caroline speaks up, her voice haughty, “Struggle as hard as you like, inmate!”
Justine follows her up, her voice the exact opposite, “The warden's job is to take care of the prisoner, we are also your collaborators.”
“It seems you slept quite lightly.” The man says, humming in disappointment.
“Our time runs short, trickster. This is farewell for now.”
A blinding light signaled his awakening.
He'd expected to oversleep, considering how tired he was.
Granted, he'd slept early, but he didn't expect to wake up at five a.m.
‘Yeah this “bed” has gotta go. Barely six hours of sleep is just..’ He gets up, clicking his tongue as he did.
He doesn't even feel the usual grogginess that he did after a good sleep.
A call on his phone catches his attention.
He picks up, “Morning, Dad.” Akira says, yawning.
His father usually woke up really early, either to go jog or work out. Side effects of being ex-military, probably.
“Morning. I'm outside, mind opening up?” The man says, casually.
“You're what? Are you sure you have the right address?” Akira says, suddenly wide awake.
He puts on a pair of sweatpants and heads down.
“Cafe LeBlanc, right?” The man asks, looking up to the sign, “Yep, right here.”
“Coming, just give me a second.” Akira says, surprised.
Sakura -san had obviously left a way to open the lock from the inside, just in case there was an emergency.
Akira opens the door, greeted by the sight of his father, Kurusu Koji.
He was muscular, had a full head of short, salt and pepper hair and a beard to go with it. Currently, he was wearing a checkered shirt and jeans, along with some leather boots.
He was also carrying a backpack.
“Come on, bring it in.” The man says, smiling warmly.
Akira hugs him, his dad patting his back with some force as he did.
“I'm glad you're okay, son.”
“You and me both,” Akira says, chuckling as they pull apart.
They head in and occupy a booth.
“So, how was the move?”
“Hard. I got off at the wrong spot, which delayed me by half an hour. Shibuya Station is complicated.” Akira says.
The man hums, “Eh, you'll get used to it, I'm sure.”
“How's… mum? Has she said anything?” He asks, his voice very.
The flow of the conversation halts, his father observes him carefully.
“I'm not saying you did anything wrong, Akira. In fact, you did the best thing you could have. You saved a woman from a horrible experience that she would've been haunted by for the rest of her life.” The man says, his voice understanding.
“But actions, regardless of good or bad, will always have consequences. The person who fell down was someone who worked in the Diet Building.” Koji explains.
“Important politician?” Akira asks.
“Important politician. Your mother has helped with a few cases in departments that work for him. They're keeping her in a chokehold. They don't want her to help or talk to you in any way.”
“Why the fuck was he in the middle of nowhere if his workplace is in Tokyo?” Akira says to himself, frustrated.
“You know why.” The man says, looking away briefly.
Akira grits his teeth, “Easy to cover up a rape case in the middle of nowhere to some random woman of no renown than it is in Tokyo.”
His dad only nods in response.
“Why doesn't Mom just ignore their orders?” Akira asks his dad.
“She worked closely with the diet so you could have a stable home, Akira. The reason we moved around was because she had quite a few offices in different locations. But being affiliated with the Diet and going against them would spell the end of her career.” The man responds calmly to his frustrations.
“She noticed your sadness at having to say goodbye to your friends and not having a stable support system. She decided that it was time to settle.”
Akira closes his eyes. ‘I can't even be frustrated anymore. This is basically just my fault.’
“I'm guessing you mean her career as a lawyer, not just in the Diet?”
“They are very influential.” The man nods.
“Please keep in mind, Akira, this isn't your fault. You did the right thing.” The man reassures.
“I fucked our home over, put mom's career at risk.”
“You kept a woman safe. You'll have to adjust to a new and hostile environment, but be optimistic and consider it a new experience.” His dad says, placing a hand on his shoulder.
Akira sighs, annoyed at the fact that the world worked this way.
“Your mom sent these,” The man says, pulling out a box.
“It's her homemade cake.” He said.
“Ah, tell her I said thanks,” Akira said, accepting the box.
“She said to tell you that she's proud of you, that you didn't do anything wrong, and that she's sorry she couldn't do more.”
Akira feels tears prick at his eyes, but he blinks them away.
He takes a breath in.
“When are you headed out?” Akira asks.
“Soon. I'm gonna stop by for fuel and that's it.”
‘Probably came here on cash only, he can't leave a trail in case they look into him. Explains the car too.’
“Now then, the other reason I came here.” The man says, pulling out a case.
He flips the locks off, opening the lid to reveal a pretty worn-out Glock 17 stuck in some foam.
'What the fuck?'