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“Mgh,” I groan like a pig.
My eyes open, and I am staring at a ceiling I don’t recognize. It’s lighter than my own, and without the hint of golden yellow. I sit up, and there is a man laying beside me in bed, naked. His hair is darker than my own, a strong bald spot forming at the back center of his scalp.
He looks like he’s made of pancake batter.
When was the last time I ate?
I stand quietly. It’s still dark— too early for the sun to peak through the tightly drawn curtains— so I’m forced to stumble around until my toe slams into a metal briefcase.
Damn it! Fucking piece of shit.
I cover my mouth, and reach down to open the case with a free hand. A clean brown peacoat awaits me inside, as well as a new pair of pants, socks, underwear, a shirt, and a tie. Deftly, I wrap them around me until I am no longer naked. The watch now strapped to my wrist reads 5:09.
The sun’ll be up soon.
I slowly make my way to the front door like a thief in the night. It’s not slow enough; as if in response to my thoughts, a slim beam of light slips through a crack in the well-drawn shades, falling onto the man’s eye. He stirs, and I am caught.
“...Akechi-kun…?” he asks as the room brightens. His tone is gentle and slightly confused, like a child peeking downstairs to see Santa Claus.
Don’t grin. Don’t grin. Don’t grin. You can play this.
Polite, but confident. Railroad him; it’s what he wants.
Tilt your head— somewhere around 15º. Close your eyes and close your lips and smile.
Pretend you’ve paid attention. What’s his name? Ta… Taka… Takahashi?
Ah, Takahashi-san,” I freehand, my smile immaculate. “I’m so glad you woke up before I left. I was hoping to get the chance to thank you for last night.”
“T-thank me?”
Bingo. Don’t grin. Don’t grin. Don’t grin.
Reel him in. Don’t ever let his mouth off the hook.
“Of course, Takahashi-san. You made it a night to remember,” I bow, approximately 55º. “Thank you very much, sir. I only wish that I could stay, and make my gratitude felt.”
“O-oh,” he stutters, sitting up in bed. “Well, can’t you, Akechi-kun? I have money.”
Surprise and gratitude. Open your eyes wide, but be realistic. You’re flattered.
What a louse. I wonder what his guts would look like splattered on the wall.
Give him inch after inch, but never let him take the mile. The win is yours.
“My deep apologies, Takahashi-san,” I shake my head, “but I already have appearances scheduled for the whole day. If… you’d like, though, I am free tonight,” I smile again, that same smile. My eyes are closed, but I can hear his breath catch and the thought wriggle into his mind. “Think about it, okay?”
“Sure. Yeah, okay,” he blushes.
Jesus Christ.
“Thank you, again. I hope I see you soon, Takahashi-san. Goodbye,” I open the door and exit, not bothering to look behind me as it closes. For a moment, I stand on the other side, back resting against the wood. I breathe once, and move on.
I’m in Shibuya, of course. The streets are quiet, for now at least. Soon the salarymen will appear and they’ll be too crowded to walk without being noticed.
My mouth tastes like soot.
I groan, checking my watch. Our little dance took ten minutes.
What a waste.
5:20; the cafe should be open.
Something small. A croissant, maybe.
Coffee.
The train there is empty. I get a moment to sit, and to look at case notes; the great artist Madarame confessed to fraud and negligent homicide. News has begun to bubble about the Phantom Thieves.
Don’t grin. Don’t grin. Don’t grin.
First the scandal with that Shujin PE Teacher, and now this?
Someone else has stumbled into the metaverse, and thinks themself a vigilante.
It’s almost perfect. Just the scapegoat we needed.
At least he’s content; my knees needed the break.
Still, there’s someone else like me out there. I have a friend. How quaint.
I close the files, and the door opens. I’m in Shinjuku. A block or two away from the station is a small cafe, open so late into the night it wraps around to the next morning. I sit.
“Goro-san,” a young woman I’ve met before greets me. “Good to see you again.”
Polite and charming. Fall back on the Detective Prince. She is weak.
“You as well,” I smile.
“The usual?”
“Actually, I’m a bit short on time today. Could I just trouble you for a coffee with cream and sugar, and a croissant?”
“Of course.”
“I appreciate it.”
There’s a hint of a blush on her face as she walks off to put my order in.
Pathetic.
She’s quick, and I have a sour excuse for a meal sitting in front of me already. I spend fifteen or so minutes eating and sipping, continuing to stare at Madarame’s mugshot in my free hand.
The Phantom Thieves of Heart? Laughable.
Why bother stealing hearts instead of deflating them outright?
Justice?
Don’t grin.
The coffee is bland and barely hot. My waitress looks like she’s been on her feet for hours. I drink the last of it, and call her over for the check.
Embarrassed, ashamed, polite, charming. She is weak.
“Oh,” I exclaim as I reach into my pockets. “I’m terribly sorry, but it seems I’ve left my wallet at home. I… hm. I hate to do this to you, but would you mind if I paid the tab the next time I come?”
She looks around nervously, but when her eyes lay again on my face, she softens. “Th-that’s okay, Goro-san. This one’s on me, okay?”
More fake-flattered. This is getting old. Stutter for a half second.
“I— I couldn’t accept that. Please, are you sure?”
“I’m sure. It’s okay.”
“I don’t know how to thank you for this.”
“The pleasure is mine, Goro-san. I’ll see you tomorrow, right?”
“Of course. Thank you for the meal. It was lovely.”
It’s too easy; it’s not even fun.
I leave the cafe, making for the studio. I arrive almost precisely on time. There are bright lights everywhere I look— even in the hallways that wrap around the back I am unsafe from the fluorescents. I find the green room and take a seat in front of a makeup mirror, ringed with circular bulbs. I put on a bit of foundation, a bit of blush, and a hell of a lot of concealer; a few swipes of a subtle enough shade of mascara fakes natural lashes; I take forty-five minutes to get my hair exactly right— scruffy, handsome, and yet professional enough.
I am a highschooler, after all.
There you are, Mr. Detective Prince.
Give ‘em a good show.
The next few hours pass quickly from place to place. Meetings with managers, meetings with production teams, meetings with fans, meetings with hosts: it was easy enough, at least, to just be the Detective Prince with them.
Polite, charming, shrewd, intelligent, careful, caring, humble, suave. A lover of justice.
Don’t forget who you are. Never forget.
Polite, charming, shrewd, intelligent, careful, caring, humble, suave. A lover of justice.
Thin lipped smiles— don’t show your teeth; they’re ugly— and empty words.
Give them someone to love, and someone to hate.
Don’t let them look away. Don’t let them look away.
Don’t grin. Don’t grin. Don’t grin.
Only animals could fall for something like this; sheep for the slaughter.
A lover of justice. Don’t make me laugh.
It takes until nearly noon, but I am eventually released from this. Released from one pond into another, I find a spot in the corner of the building and begin to sift through the rest of my case files. There’ve been four mental shutdowns and six psychotic breaks in the last week. There will be twelve more next week. Two of them are already embroiled in huge financial conspiracies. When their minds break, their lips will loosen, and I will be there to break the story. My stomach growls.
Oh shut it, would you? I ate, what, six hours ago? You’re fine.
There’s a noise down the hallways that gets me to slam my files shut. It’s the sound of rowdy teens talking about something stupid. I stand.
My peers.
A peppy young woman ends a sentence with “so why don’t we relax and check out some shops beforehand?”
Another woman, probably, shrill and annoying, says “Ooh I know a place! I wanna go to that huge pancake-looking place we passed on the way here! It looked delicious. What was that?”
Pancakes?
My stomach growls.
“Oh, you mean Dome Town?” a punky sounding male says. “Yeah, let’s go there! I’m really feeling it now.”
“Me too. My stomach’s ready for rollercoasters.”
“Uhhh… I think I’ll pass on the puke rides…”
Is this seriously what kids my age talk about? I wonder…
I walk out from the wall I’ve hidden behind, my gaze turning to the group of teens. There are three, as I thought, but only one woman and two men.
Odd. No time to think about it. Helpful, polite, charming, funny.
Their clothes are from Shujin Academy. They must be here to film with me.
Good first impressions. Be classy, but not arrogant. Be above them, but not mean.
“Excuse me, I couldn’t help but notice your uniforms. Are you students of Shujin Academy?”
“Yeah, whaddya want?” The punk kid with yellow hair asks.
Approach, explain, feign interest.
“I happened to be passing by, so it seemed polite to greet you. We’ll be filming together, after all. Ah, where are my manners?” I smile, head tilted 17º, eyes closed. “My name is Goro Akechi.”
“Akechi…?” The girl says.
“Filming? What, you’re a celebrity?” the punk asks like a fanboy.
Downplay. Be humble.
“Hah, only to the extent of appearing on TV a couple of times…”
Get me out of here.
…I check my watch. “My apologies, I truly was just passing by. I must be going. There’s a briefing for this afternoon's recording that I have to attend.”
My stomach growls.
Don’t be too quick. Connect with them. Dammit I want pancakes now.
“So, you’re going to go have cake now? I missed lunch today, so I’m quite hungry myself.”
“Huh? Cake…? What are you talking about?” The yellow haired kid asks. The three of them are looking at me like I’m crazy.
What? What’s going on? I thought I—
“Oh, am I mistaken? I thought I heard something about delicious pancakes. No matter. Welp, see you at the taping later,” I reply quickly and turn to walk away quicker and walk off, leaving the Shujin students behind in confusion.
What the hell was that? I know I heard one of them mention pancakes.
The black-haired boy that stayed quiet? Could that voice really be his?
Who cares? They’re students; they don’t matter.
I don’t understand. What did I do wrong? My delivery was perfect.
Why don’t they care about me??
Even the girl didn’t seem to be charmed. Am I losing my touch?
No, that can’t be right. I won’t let you look away. Fuck humility; I’m a celebrity.
The lunch hour passes quickly between phone calls to the police station, staring at case files, and silently seething about being wronged. Soon, I’m watching Shujin students pile into the studio. They act as a good alarm for me, so I stand, and make my way toward stage. I can see them out in the nosebleeds. The blonds are practically falling asleep, and the black-haired one seems to be staring at something nondescript.
Give ‘em a good show.
I can hear the murmuring and giggling begin as soon as step from the shadows. It’s a good feeling. Out of the corner of my eye, I watch their faces flick to me in recognition and in something like horror.
The loud blonde kid mouths something like “ain’t that the guy from earlier?”
Walk at 112 beats per minute. Shoulders square, posture raised, confident.
Sit quickly and politely. Rest your hands on your lap. Smile a thin-lipped smile.
They love you. They hate you. They can’t look away.
“And now,” a cute announcer begins, “onto the “Hottest Meet-and-Greet” segment of our show. After his last appearance was so well-received, we decided to bring back this fine gentleman today. It’s the high school detective, Goro Akechi!”
There’s cheering, high-pitched and adoring.
“Hello there,” I smile.
A cheerful host speaks up next. “Thank you for taking the time to join us today, Akechi-kun. Your popularity is stunning.”
Pour salt in the wound.
“Even I’ve found it to be quite a surprise. It is a bit embarrassing though.”
“Moving on, we’ve been told there’s a case on your mind right now. Care to share, detective?”
The Phantom Thieves; I wonder if they’ll watch this program.
With his influence over the media, there’s really no need to doubt.
How will you react to this, my friend? And will it even matter?
It’s only a matter of time. I will live to see your justice crumble.
“Ah, yes. That would be the scandal involving the master artist Madarame.”
“There it is! All of this phantom thief excitement has caught your attention too, Akechi-kun! Allow me to be blunt for just a second. What do you think of these justice-oriented Phantom Thieves?”
Be moderate, but firm. I am justice.
“If they truly are heroes of justice, I sincerely hope they exist.”
“Ohhh, so you don’t deny the possibility that they’re real?”
Be charming, funny, cute.
“I may not seem like it, but sometimes I wish that Santa Claus existed. Although if he did, I’d have to arrest him for breaking and entering.”
The audience laughs, or, at least, everyone but the three hooligans in the back laugh.
Interesting.
“But hypothetically speaking, if these Phantom Thieves are real…”
Pause for dramatic effect. Hook, line, and sinker.
“...I believe they should be tried in a court of law.”
“That’s quite the statement. Are they committing crimes? Some people even say that the Thieves are actually helping their victims abandon their evil ways.”
Conviction. Arch your eyebrows. You’re serious about this.
“What the artist Madarame did truly was an unforgivable crime. However, they’re taking the law into their own hands by judging him. It is far from justice. More importantly, you should never forcefully change a person’s heart.”
I hope you’re squirming.
“You have a point,” the host agrees, enthusiastically. “These people are calling themselves the Phantom Thieves, after all. Amazing as always, Akechi-kun! I could listen to you for days! You have the most radiant charisma!”
Faggot.
Don’t grin. Don’t grin. Don’t grin.
But seriously, you couldn’t afford my radiant charisma.
How do I even reply to that? I mean, Christ, are you trained at all?
Whatever. Just ignore it. Move on.
“I have to say though, I would be embarrassed if it turns out these Phantom Thieves don’t exist. If that were the case, I’d summarize it into a report as a school project.”
“Now then, let’s try asking some of the students the same age as Akechi-kun what they think of the Phantom Thieves!” the cute announcer announces cutely. “First, please press your button now if you think the Phantom Thieves exist!”
Every single hooligan in the back presses their button, as well as a number of other students.
“About 30% or so? What are your thoughts, Akechi-kun?”
Would you shut your mouth? What an annoying voice.
Another segue. Be natural, professional, charming.
Hm. I wonder…
“I’m a bit surprised. That’s higher than I was expecting,” I widen my eyes. “I’d love to hear some more detailed opinions on the Phantom Theives’ actions.”
The cute announcer stands to hand a mic to one of the Shujin students. She approaches the dark-haired boy in the back.
Tell me. What do you have to say?
“Alright, let’s try asking this student here. Hypothetically speaking, what are your thoughts on these Phantom Thieves, if they were real?”
The quiet young boy takes the microphone. As expected, his voice is nothing like the shrill one I heard mention pancakes earlier. Instead, it is soft, and sweet, and dark with mystery. It’s… handsome.
“They do more than the cops,” he says, staring directly into my eyes with a challenge.
I can’t say he’s wrong.
Fascinating. To speak your mind in such a public setting. What else will you do?
Laugh three times. Deflect. Don’t bother denying.
“Hahaha.”
“This completely goes against the opinion you had about them being tried by law, Akechi-kun,” the host explains, for some reason.
We’re speaking our mind, are we? Fine. I’ll play along. This is fun.
“Indeed. It’s rather intriguing to hear such a strong acknowledgement. In that case, there’s one more question I’d like to ask. If someone close to you, for example your friend next to you, if his heart suddenly changed, wouldn’t you think it was the work of the Phantom Thieves?”
“What would you think?”
Fair, I suppose, though disappointing. I’ll answer, if that’s what you want.
“Ah, throwing the question back at me? Well, this is my opinion on the topic. Whether the Thieves’ actions are good or not, I feel there is a more important issue at hand.”
“Hm? What do you mean?” The cheerful host asks.
The boy in the crowd doesn’t need it explained, does he?
“The matter of how they change people’s hearts. If they honestly possess that ability… it could be used for more than extracting confessions…”
Don’t grin. Don’t grin. Don’t grin. Don’t grin. Don’t grin. Don’t grin. Don’t grin.
Set them up and knock them down.
Look concerned and in thought. This is only a theory, right?
“...It could be that what seem to be ordinary crimes are actually being perpetrated by these methods.”
“You know, you’re absolutely right.”
Don’t say that, you idiot.
Backpedal, but just slightly. Maintain plausible deniability.
“Oh, please don’t misunderstand. This is all purely hypothetical. It is only if people who can use such a power truly exist. Either way though, this cannot be ignored. The existence of the Phantom Thieves would be nothing but a threat to our everyday lives. To be honest…”
Don’t grin. Don’t grin. Don’t grin.
Use uncertain language.
“...I’m already working alongside the police to help sort out this matter.”
The crowd claps.
The cute announcer stands and claps with them, before bringing the rhythm to a halt and sending off the show. “I’m so glad to hear that you’re doing what needs to be done. Thank you again for joining us today, Akechi-kun. We look forward to seeing you again soon.”
Smile. Close your eyes. Tilt your head, but only 8º. Stand, as if to leave.
What did that waitress say?
“It was my pleasure.”
I walk off stage, enjoying the sound of cheers fading behind me. From the wings, I can watch the group of hooligans. The blondes look disheveled by my little performance, although the black-haired one doesn’t seem bothered.
Fascinating.
His friends leave, off to deal with the problems of teenagers, but the young man remains.
I shouldn’t. A student, a waste of time. What do I have to gain?
I do.
At least be confident. You are above him.
“Oh, it’s you…! I’m glad I found you. I wanted to thank you in person. To paraphrase Hegel, advancement cannot occur without both thesis and antithesis.”
He looks at me, confused.
Christ, am I embarrassing myself again?
Smile. Be polite. Be humble.
“Haha, my apologies. What I mean is that our conversation was quite meaningful. Few people around me are so willing to speak their minds as freely as you did earlier. Adults are only interested in using the young, while they simply do as the adults say. I feel like our discussions could prove quite fruitful. Would you mind talking with me again?”
My comment about adults seems to have gotten his attention. Like a cat, this one.
It’s charming, in its own way. I wonder if he knows. I wonder if he does it on purpose.
“Fine by me,” he says.
“Thank you. It makes me glad to hear that. The students from Shujin are truly quite interesting. I look forward to seeing you again.”
I extend a hand, and he takes it. His skin is warm beneath my glove.
I want to feel his warmth against my own.
No, I don’t.
We begin to shake.
Shake for three seconds; no more and no less.
Three: who is this man? So unlike the others, even unlike his friends.
Two: why does he feel familiar? Trustworthy? Worthy?
One:
My breath catches.
It’s you. It is, isn’t it? I can see it in your eyes. That spark. That fire of justice.
You’re their leader, aren’t you? And the blondes are your lackeys?
Don’t grin. Don’t grin. Don’t grin. Don’t grin. Don’t grin. Don’t grin. Don’t grin.
Don’t grin. Don’t grin. Don’t grin. Don’t grin. Don’t grin. Don’t grin. Don’t grin.
Don’t grin. Don’t grin. Don’t grin. Don’t grin. Don’t grin. Don’t grin. Don’t grin.
We’ve been shaking for too long.
I let go, and we are staring at each other.
“Well… until then. Goodbye.”
I exit the stage and the building quickly, finding a spot in the back alley to rest my back against. It is dark, dreary, and wet. There’s no one else around.
“What was that??” I can’t help but grin and cackle softly, my face falling into my palm. “This is… this feeling…”
Control yourself. What’s wrong with you?!
“...Finally. What kept you so long, my friend? Don’t keep me waiting; show me that justice of yours! I can’t wait…”
Goro. Don’t you dare forget. Don’t you dare let this slip out of your hands.
“...I wonder what your name is. I wonder what your persona looks like. I wonder what your eyes will look like as the life drains out of them…”
You are in public.
“...I— I’m…” I look up from my hand, panting slowly. Outside the alley, I can hear Shujin students shuffling away. There are murmurs of the “high school detective” among them. Some of them even caught my name. They won’t see me from here, but they might hear me. A stinging feeling forms in my stomach. “What are you doing?” I ask quietly, my breath settling.
My stomach growls.
I’ll fucking shoot you.
What time is it?
I check my watch; it’s 2:15 already.
Shit.
I’m panting again by the time I show up in front of his building, head glistening with sweat. A doorman recognizes me and lets me inside. He looks at me with a strange disapproval, as though I’m a common whore.
Common is wrong.
Damn it. I’m gonna stink. This is bullshit.
I hope he lets me shower first.
The elevator doors open and I am on the 109th floor. There are only a few doors on this floor— penthouse level— although it’s not like I need any help finding the right one. My knuckles rap against it, and I wait. A minute or so later, it opens.
“You’re late,” he says, staring at a bead of sweat on my cheek like a cat with a laser pointer or a child with an Ipad.
Can’t you look at my ass at least?
Groveling, pathetic, begging. You know your place.
Don’t give excuses or explanations; he hates those.
“I am. I’m sorry, sir,” I look down.
“Do better next time,” he growls, grabbing me by the chin and forcing my gaze upward. I can smell his breath from here, rotten with booze and plaque; he’s just woken up. “Ah, I can’t stay mad at you, my bird. Come inside.”
Seems my ass has caught his eye. Thank god for that.
Gracious, professional, obedient.
Talk about the plan. Don’t be surprised when he changes subject.
“Thank you, sir,” I enter. His apartment is two or three times the size of mine, although I might know it better than my own. It’s gaudy, and, what’s worse, it’s poorly maintained. There are stains everywhere, remnants of various miscellaneous liquids; the housekeeping bill must be a nightmare. He’s following behind me, staring again, although more productively this time. “The broadcast went well,” I smile a flashy smile. “It seems my fanbase grows larger and larger by the day. I’m especially popular with young girls. That being said, the same is true for the Phantom Thieves. If they keep this pace, they’ll eclipse me within a calling or two.”
“Good,” he sits in a plush chair in the corner of the bedroom, eyeing me up and down. “I must say, it’s not a surprise that the girls are all over you. You have a way of grabbing people’s attention like that, you know?”
What a crude segue.
“Thank you, sir.”
“I’m glad to see how my investments are finally paying themselves off. Although, I could use a little more convincing,” he smirks.
There’s a piece of meat stuck in his teeth.
I fall to my knees in front of him; in truth, it's a nice break from standing. Things progress quickly— we’ve built a rhythm— and soon it is no longer a business meeting. It becomes unimportant.
When was the last time I brushed my teeth?
I’m hungry.
My gun needs more bullets.
I need a cigarett—
And just like that, he’s finished.
Impressive; I almost got a fourth thought off.
Ugh, that sooty feeling again.
“Mm,” he groans, lazing back in his chair. “Not bad, my bird; I’m glad to see you haven’t forgotten your roots.”
…
“Never.”
“Good,” he licks his lips. “Alright, let’s not allow ourselves to get too distracted now, hm?”
“Of course. My apologies.”
He slides me his phone, pulling up a photo of a businessman I don’t recognize. “His name is Hiroshi Mikitani. I’d like him psychotic by tomorrow. Am I understood?”
“I’ll have it done by tonight.”
His eyes narrow. “I’ll hold you to that.” I stand, as if to leave, and he joins me. When I don’t leave immediately though, he notices. “Well? What is it?”
“My money. This— this is normally when you give it to me.”
He sighs. “You have this down to a science I see. Is that all you think about, bird? Is it ever enough that we are building a brave new world together? Sometimes I wonder where exactly your loyalties lie.”
Pig.
Don’t scowl. Don’t scowl. Don’t scowl.
“They lie with you, sir. I just need the money for—”
He throws a pile of loose bills at me, smacking into my chest and scattering onto the floor. I am forced to the ground to pick it up, stuffing bills into my pockets. “Take it,” he grunts, wandering off. Under his breath, I hear him say “once a whore, always a whore.”
Your gun is at home. You couldn’t take it to set, remember? Your gun is at home.
Fifty, sixty, seventy, eighty, ninety. He’s ten short.
I’m ten short.
It’s easier this way.
You’ll get him back one day.
“Thank you, sir,” I call out into the apartment to no response. Then, money made, I leave. The hallway smells like gold dust and bleach. Even on plush carpet, I can feel my feet crying out against me with every step.
How much longer?
My phone buzzes, and I open it to a picture of Horoshi Mikitani.
Fuck.
Fine, whatever. Something to smash.
Horoshi Mikitani.
Chat Forums.
Factory.
The palace is simple, the mark of an uncommitted man. Money streams into a central pot in comically large bags, carried by conveyer belts of texts. Below the pot stands a man, ogling his prize.
“Why is this all you business types can seem to come up with?” I ask aloud, enjoying hearing my voice muffled under a black mask.
His shadow’s neck snaps to me, caught off guard by the intruder. “What’s— who are you?”
I chuckle, approaching with my blade drawn. His eyes are full of terror. I lick my lips. “Just another shadow, Mikitani-san. Nobody you need to be worried about.”
“No. You’re not like them. What’s going on?”
“Maybe I’m not. Maybe I lied. Honestly, it doesn’t matter,” I step closer and closer until we’re ten feet away. “Why should I care about the flailings of a dead man? Come. Loki.”
He reacts before my swing lands, body contorting into a monstrosity of wires and green cubes. The strike hits its target all the same, though, Loki’s gilded greatsword cleaving into copper and rubber with a delicious snap. It reminds me of tendrils. The ruler rears backwards, and it is already too late. I am on his neck, and then my blade is inside it. I rip the poor shadow from the beast's carcass, bathing in its warm, gentle spraying blood.
He looks up at me, and I watch the emotion in his eyes change from horror to pain to bargaining. “Please. I’ll give you whatever you want. I have money!”
“Oh? How much are we talking?” I dig my claws into his neck. I can feel the carotid arteries under my index fingers, ready to snap.
“Millions! Hundreds of millions of yen! You’ll never have to work a day again!”
“And what’s to stop you from coming after that money when it's in my hands?”
“Please! We can wire it off-shore. You can move away! I don’t even need your name, just an account number! Think about it!! A life without want!!”
Flick your eyes away, and stare at something in the distance.
You’re pondering, remember?
That’s long enough.
I look back at him. “Sounds nice.”
“Right??” He’s sweating all over me.
I dig my claws in deeper, eyes glowing with a red rage. Black energy seeps through my fingers and into his flesh, gnawing at him incessantly. I can feel him squirming, thrashing below me, desperate for an escape that’ll never come.
What a delicious expression.
I’ve missed this.
Then, his head slumps, neck consumed with black tendrils. When he raises it again and opens his eyes, they are red with psychosis. I toss him to the floor, feeling the beast dissolve below me. “Enjoy it: a life without want.”
The palace is soon crumbling beneath me as well, so I make a run for it. The entire thing was a straight hallway, so there's really not much in the way of challenge. Within a few strides, I’m out the front door and back onto the streets of Tokyo. I’m sweating again as I make my way back to dry land, breath heavy and ragged. I look left and right just in case, and then do my best to gather myself and walk away.
That wasn’t worth my effort.
Couldn’t he have at least found me with someone with some guts?
I’m sure you’re having your fair share of adventures, my lone friend.
That newness, that excitement, is it treating you well? I hope so.
Don’t forget that feeling, my friend. I want to see it in your eyes when we lock blades.
My stomach growls, and, what’s worse, I yawn. My movements are sluggish after even a moment in the metaverse, and combat only makes it worse. I wander the streets like a zombie, shambling. When I look up, I’m relieved to see that the sun has begun to set. I check my watch; it's 6:54.
Thirty or so minutes before customers start calling. Maybe I can eat.
I still want pancakes, dammit. Why’d they have to mention that?
Remember to blink, Goro. Remember to open your eyes again after.
I wonder if there’s a place near here that’ll still—
My phone rings.
You short motherfucker.
“Good afternoon. This is Akechi.”
“Akechi-kun…” a voice on the other side leers. I can hear a droplet of slobber fall onto the floor.
I take a deep breath, quelling the sound of my furious stomach. My eyes close, and for a moment they stay that way. Then, I open them again. “Takahashi-san,” I smile a thin-lipped smile. “It’s good to hear from you.”