[attr="class","ori"]

Akechi Goro is dead. The once beloved detective, now only known as a stepping stone for a politician’s rise. He wasn’t the charming Detective Prince, nor the brilliant student—he was nothing, just a paper fluttering in the wind. Nothing, just an empty character used for the case of a lifetime.[break][break]

He was sure no one remembered him, with how papers cluttered over the missing posters containing his face. After everything he did, no one remembered him. The thought caused anger to flicker under his skin, consuming his mind with a vengeance. After everything, he got nothing; every piece of work he did, is now just written as a tragedy. Claw masqueraded as a hand shot up and grabbed the poster in question, only to tear it up. His vision barely noted what his action was, getting blurrier by the second. Once it was undiscernible, he let the pieces fall, gloved hands coming up to cover his face. He wanted to scream. To scream for Loki, to scream to the world, letting it see what it did to him. Instead, he let his legs give up, falling against the concrete.[break][break]

With a broken breath, he scrambled for his scarcely working phone out of his pocket and clicked a number. One thought prevailed in his mind as the line rang, to hear Akira’s voice again. It was stupid, potentially dangerous to himself, but he did not think of those things. Every ring silenced his thoughts, anxiety filling the cracks in between. Thoughts of no one picking up made his eyes well up—until a voice spoke up. “Leblanc, how can I help you?“ Sojiro Sakura. Of course, the logical part of his brain thought, if only it was in charge. Instead, his brain was surrendered to his emotional side. Sakura—Futaba Sakura, Wakaba’s daughter. He couldn’t function. His breath started picking up the pace, panic setting in as he briefly thought of choking on words. There was nothing to help stop the tears that fell, nor his breath continuing to break as he uttered, “Sorry, wrong number.” Instantly moving to hang up, before his elder had the chance to recognize his voice, he then clutched his phone, memories flooding back.[break][break]

Mementos was always enough to make him feel sick, the harsh hue of red surrounding the boy. Breathing in, then out, he would press forward still, in search of his first target. Dark blobs decorated the hallways, a multitude of masks covering only what one could assume to be a face. For all that he cursed his outfit to be, one thing he could be thankful for was it’s dark hues, letting him blend into the dark walls. Red eyes trained to every creature as he maneuvered his way through the area, his objective found in the corner of his vision. Once close enough, he sighed out, and leapt at the opening, hands clenched hard enough to draw blood as he felt the distortion twist and turn. Opening his eyes, they were met by the golden ones of a shadow.[break][break]

Before he could even think to raise a weapon at her, anger consumed her features and was overtaken by a beastly form. Fear flooded his system, ice stabbing through his heart as he narrowly avoided a slash. With tightly closed eyes, he reached out to the chaotic being in his head, calling him forth. The god didn’t hesitate to slash at the abomination, twirling the blade in the air only to stab them into the ground, skin burning all around.[break][break]

“Loki.” His voice was lined with fear and adrenaline, yet he still called to the being to be called a persona, resulting in them turning their head towards him, blade still lodged deep into the writhing monster. “Come back.” With a snarl of distaste, the burning sword was removed from the being, a cry echoing the distorted room and fading away alongside it, both shadow and persona disappearing. One difference was being the reappearance of the woman from before. Anger was not her mask, but fear. “Please,” her voice tumbled out, “Don’t do this. I-I have a little girl, she needs me. I can’t die, she needs me.” He felt his heart stop. A moment passed, the only thing in the air being the short breaths of the shadow, before the distinct sound of a tightening grip was heard. With expertise not expected from such a child, a gun was pulled out, landing four bullets upon her forehead. Crimson eyes were wide, his breath now labored as he turned and ran. He ran until he pushed himself to the entrance, pulling himself into the real world.[break][break]

With a flutter of eyelashes, he now saw the soaked concrete, and the lack of sickness in his throat. Letting his hair masquerade his face, he curled himself down into his own hold, letting choked sobs exit his mouth. Akechi Goro wasn’t missing, but he was dead. He was dead long before this year, and nothing could change that fate.