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Wish I could meet the younger me.
The innocent mind at that time,
Would you not forget it?
We’re born into this world with nothing but innocence - a fresh slate untouched by the world and its corruption.
It doesn’t matter that it’s cliche. In our darkest moments, do we not wish for those times we felt peace with no care or worries in the world?
We can’t admit to ourselves that we don’t wish for better days, for less pain, for everything to go right for once.
My younger self.
Akechi sighs as he takes a seat on a bench underneath an awning. It's early in the morning, or perhaps late at night? Either way, there's nary a soul around and the rain is pouring heavily with no sign of slowing down.
The magnificent city lights dance in the reflections of puddles to keep the city alive, but the souls that roam this city have retired to their warm homes for the night. That is, everyone except for Akechi. It's amazing how the heavy rain has turned a busy, loud city into a ghost town, the sound of laughter and chatter replaced by the echoes of raindrops smacking the pavement and rumbling thunder.
It's been a difficult night, and with that comes long walks to think everything through.
He takes his phone out and wipes the raindrops from the screen.
XXXXXDAY NOVEMBER XX, 20XX
1:19 AM
The time is reflected in his eyes as he sighs and turns the screen off.
"Might as well get comfortable", he mumbles as he wipes stray raindrops from his face. "Of all the nights to forget an umbrella…"
Akechi leans back and stares up at the cloudy, rainy sky above.
Although the famous detective prince has been a self-crowned master of deceit all these years, there's so much more that he doesn't let bubble to the surface.
His true feelings, his hurt, his guilt, his anything. Even a simple hello feels caked in deceit.
It feels as though one day, he may burst.
He closes his eyes and allows himself to think deeply for the first time in a long time.
We all have our reasons for the actions we perform. A hug for affection, holding hands for love, a cheer for excitement. Where do.. I fit in?
A facade can only last so long before the actor begins to crack.
I will never crack.. The world will never see - the world will never deserve to see who I am.
He grits his teeth as he keeps his eyes closed, trying to relax his mind so he can just think for once.
How did I reach this point?
He thinks back to the moment he swore to himself he would never be weak again.
Taking a deep breath, he allows the memories to fade back into his mind, the memories he will not allow himself to forget yet hurt to remember.
My reason for being.
Akechi thinks back to his childhood and the faint yet powerful memories he holds of his mother.
The woman who tried her hardest for him in an unfair fate-driven world, but who was ultimately driven to take her own life in shame of his existence.
How confusing it must have been, to try so hard for her son yet feel as if she never wanted to be a mother in the first place. A whirlwind of emotions swallowing all in its path, the self never safe.
He thinks of the childhood he spent in foster home after foster home.
He would always be considered an outsider in the families bound by blood. For they may be kind enough to allow you to live with them, oh you poor child. But remember, you will never truly be one of us.
You will never be part of our family.
You will never know the love we deliver to each other.
You will never experience what it means to grow with love.
You will only experience what you choose.
And for that, you must walk your own path.
Your fate is your own.
Akechi begins to slightly shake with anger at the thought of his childhood, but doesn't stop himself.
I need to think, even if it's about the bad memories.
I can't keep pretending that my fate is not my own.
He remembers finding his mother's body and how his entire world stopped that day.
The door he opened to the washroom suddenly feeling as if it were filled with concrete, the smell of iron piercing the air. The way the rain begin to fall heavily in that moment, as if the skies were crying in pity, cracking with thunder as they cooed.
Oh the poor boy, whatever will he do without mother dearest?
Daddy has run off to have his fun and nobody is left to care for you!
Oh, the poor sweet boy, even mother dearest couldn't stand the cursed child born of her blood!
How the police he trusted as saviours of justice took him away, covering his eyes that suddenly felt as if they could never close. The heroes who promised it would all be okay, but were heard in the other room about how they couldn't find any family members to contact.
How he was now alone in the blink of an eye.
The cruelness of man to tell a child through the sweetest of words, you're on your own kid.
Glaring at the sky as he slowly opens his eyes, Akechi clenches his teeth.
It was only through all of this hurt that he realized it was just that - he was on his own. He would be the author of his own fate, not the authorities, the gods, anybody. He would become his own saviour of justice and rewrite the unbearable ode of fate.
It was not often he allowed himself to think about his trauma in extreme detail. Although it was his reason for fighting, the vivid memories still hurt to this day. Under a hardened exterior and warped heart of fury, the unsilenceable pains of loss and love beat unbearably loud.
Trying to steady his anger, he thinks of the younger him.
The version of him addled by fate yet happy to be alive, not understanding why the adults in his life didn't treat him like the ones he saw in the schoolyard. The parents who would pick their children up and spin them around as they asked about their day. Their child's hand in one and a jacket in the other, just in case the autumn winds were too cold on their walk home. The feeling of yearning he didn't understand as he walked alone to the place he was meant to know as home yet couldn't define.
The younger him, fascinated by superheroes and the justice they delivered. The thought that if he fought hard enough, he'd be able to change his fate. The young boy who danced around his room lightly so as to not make sound, sweater arms tied around his neck to form a cape just like the action figures he saw the other kids play with.
Even at a young age, I knew justice was a lie. Justice is a symphony orchestrated by those who know nothing more than their own greed.
But this symphony of my life will be orchestrated by none other than myself, and I will force the world to dance to the tune I desire.
Akechi sighs and leans forward, holding his own head in his gloved hands. He tangles his fingers in his already messy hair, trying to form a cohesive thought.
I wanted to form my own justice, and the gods gave me the power to do so.
I.. I wanted to show the world that if they insisted I was in charge of my own fate, then I'd twist it in the way I wanted most.
The faces of those he killed stopped appearing when he closed his eyes long ago. There was one face however, that he would never forget.
Akechi looked up with a deep breath and stared at himself in the nearby reflection of a bus shelter.
It wasn't his own self he saw, but that face.
My younger self.
His breath caught as he was faced with the vivid appearance of his younger self. The boy with a cape around his neck, confused as to his fate but convinced he would grow up to become a hero.
Unstained by blood, you lived.
Stained by blood, I've been dead my entire life.
A red hue from an overhead advertisement flashed in the reflection of the bus shelter. The uneven distribution of raindrops on the glass surface cause Akechi to see a familiar yet distorted image dripping down his skin.
The purer me, still not met with my bloody future.
Akechi continues to stare deeper at his reflection, his younger self staring back at him with a tired youthfulness.
Would you be proud of me?
Would you be proud of everything I've done to make up for the things that made you - made us sad?
Would you still recognize me?
A tear begins to fall down Akechi's cheek as he allows himself to feel his own pain for the first time in his life.
Would you be proud of me?
He shakes his head as he begins to cry, his tears seemingly mixing with the heavy raindrops ricocheting against the pavement.
He sits there and sobs until he can't anymore, staring at his younger self reflected through his blurred vision.
You don't have to be strong anymore, I'll take care of us.
I'll make us proud.
I promise, I'll make us proud.
For the boy unfairly spun into fate's neverending web.