Chapter Text
A young boy sits, folded in on himself, within a forgotten corner of a lonely bathhouse. He’s trying his best to simply dissociate because, even if he can’t admit it out loud, he hates being here. He hates being alone. However, much to his dismay, he almost always is. Loneliness is a state of being for him. Constant and unchanging.
I wish I was with my mother.
The bathhouse is a place he’s sent when she’s too busy with her friends. It’s a place he needs to go because her "friends don’t like him", nor do they want to see him.
I cast shame on her. Everyone sees me, and they know exactly what I am right away.
Voices enter his mind. They belong to three of his mother’s most prominent friends that have previously made their thoughts on him quite clear.
“Get that fuckin’ kid out of here! If I come ‘round and see that boy again, I’ll just visit another whore! I don’t need to see your mistake and remember the chance I take by sleepin’ with you!”
“I don’t understand why you’d keep him. Kid’s a mistake. Wouldn’t it have been easier to get rid of him?”
“That kid’s not going to have any real future. Although he may be pretty one day, like you, so he could stand a chance in your line of work. The apple never falls too far from the tree.”
In his isolated corner, the boy cries. His tears do nothing to stop the voices assaulting his mind. They morph from ones resembling his mother’s friends to those matching various kids at school.
“Why would I want to play with you? You’re a bastard, that’s what my ‘ma says. She told me that means you’re a mistake!”
“You do know that none of those toys you have are real, right? They’re just made of paper or are knockoffs. You're too poor to have actual Featherman toys, aren't you?”
“Your mom’s a whore, isn’t she? Is it true she fucks a different man every night? Do you think I could get a piece of her?”
He runs his hand over the bruise blooming on his face. It is certainly not the first nor will it be the last one he’s ever received.
“Don’t call my mother a whore! She does her best! You shouldn’t say such mean things about her!”
His small fist collides with the face of the older boy who was taunting him. It does very little damage, despite the force he puts behind it. The boy he just assaulted stands, stunned, before yelling at him.
“You little bastard! How dare you lay a hand on me!?”
A fist collides with his face. He crumples to the ground. His attacker begins to kick him now that he’s down. In an act of desperation, he places his arms over his head so that the wild kicks of his opponent don’t hit it. He can't hurt his head. The only thing he has going for him is his intelligence. Without that, he'd have nothing at all.
“You’re a little coward, you know? Picking a fight you should know you can’t win and then uselessly lying on the ground! Makes you look pathetic! You’re only embarrassing yourself, as if your existence wasn’t doing that for you already! Now apologize for hitting me!”
"No! You can't just call my mother names and get away with it! I don’t feel bad for hitting you! I won't apologize to you!"
The older boy kicks him even harder. The boy's teeth chatter from the blows. Even so, the boy being beaten refuses to cry. He doesn't want to give his tormentor the satisfaction of seeing him break.
No adults intervene. At some point, the older boy finishes kicking him and spits on him for good measure.
Once the older boy walks away, and he verifies that there’s no one else around, the boy on the ground cries. Besides his mother, he doesn’t let anyone else see him cry. He's long learned a key truth: nobody besides his mother cares about his suffering. Why does nobody besides his mother care about him, though? What crime did he commit to deserve this?
He sinks further into the water. His fingers weave their way through his hair. They lock onto it and start to pull. The pain he's causing himself, he hopes, will work as a momentary distraction.
Sadly, the only thing he accomplishes with his effort to distract himself is pulling out strands of his own honey-brown hair. It is an odd color. Everyone says that.
“Mama, can I dye my hair black? Please?”
“Why would you want to do that?”
The boy speaks, eyes downcast, in a quiet voice.
“The other kids make fun of me. They all have black hair. If I dye mine, then they’ll have one less thing to taunt me about."
His mother gives him a sad, knowing look.
No! She must think I want to change my hair color because I’m ashamed of looking like her! I shouldn’t have asked her if I she could dye my hair!
In an attempt to make her feel better, he reaches out and gives his mother a hug. She doesn’t say anything. He resolves never to ask to dye his hair again.
His thoughts careen back towards his mother and her reasonings for sending him here. She sends him here because she’s ashamed of him, even if she always claims that’s not the case. In her words, which he wants to believe but can’t, she sends him here to protect him.
What is there about me to protect? Aren’t I just a burden? Doesn’t my very existence make her life harder? It must. It has to.
As if on cue, the boy’s stomach begins to growl. He’s hungry, and he knows it, but they’ve been out of food for days. His mother has tried to make sure every scrap of food goes to him for as long as he can remember, but in recently there hasn’t been any.
The phantom feeling of a gentle hand tracing the bruising on his face hits him. His mother had patched him up when he got home from school, not asking what happened because she likely already knew. She spoke to him in a tone meant to calm him.
“I need to work tonight, Goro-chan. Please, for me, stay at the bathhouse until it closes. When you get home, I promise you, I’ll have made dinner. I know you’re hungry.”
There was sadness in her voice as she sent him away. Whenever she speaks to him, there is sadness.
I want to fade away.
He wishes he could. Without him, his mother’s life would be so much better.
I am a burden. Everyone knows it. Deep down, even my mother must think I am.
A voice snaps him out of his self-loathing. It belongs to the burly owner of the bathhouse.
“There's a large party that wants this place to themselves! Kid! Get lost!”
Goro looks up at the clock and sees that it is barely after 5:00 p.m. He can’t go home yet. His mother said to stay at the bathhouse until it closed. That doesn’t happen until at least 10:00 p.m. There’s still 5 hours left until then.
“I promise that I can be quiet, sir. I’ll stay in the corner so that I don’t bother anybody.”
The bathhouse’s owner simply shakes his head.
“The party that’s coming in said they planned on doing some activities that are inappropriate for a kid to witness. They were very specific that this place had to be empty for them. Get lost!”
He doesn't need to be told twice to vacate a location that he's not wanted in. Goro grabs the few belongings he has, gets dressed, and rushes out of the bathhouse. A single thought echoes through his mind as he leaves.
It seems I am unwanted, no matter where I go.
—---------------------------------------------------------
He finds himself underneath a lonely tree on top of a small hill in a park not too far from the bathhouse. This is a place he traditionally comes to read, mainly on the weekends when his mother’s friends stop by at earlier times, and one he doesn’t typically stay at on school nights. It’s not that he doesn’t like it; certainly, it’s better to stay here than at the bathhouse, but it gets dark and cold outside quickly. There’s also a lot of weird energy around the tree. Goro is unsure how to describe it.
The odd energy manifests in the form of a spectral-looking door. Goro has seen it fleetingly, out of the corner of his eye, on many occasions. The door radiates a soft blue color, almost glowing. Sometimes, on rare occasions, there are even people standing outside it. They all look different, but share the common traits of having white hair and yellow eyes. He’s seen both a woman and a man who look like elevator bellhops. There's another woman who has short, curly hair. She gives off a calming aura. There’s also a little girl who constantly carries around a book that looks much too heavy for her. The final person he’s seen is a younger woman with longer, straight hair. She wears a pair of thin glasses. If he had to describe her, he’d say she looks like a librarian.
Of the strange people he’s seen standing beside the door, only the last one has ever acknowledged him. She sometimes smiles and waves at him. Every time she does either of those things, Goro feels a sense of immense peace.
The door is not present today. He checked when he first got here. He’s disappointed. He would have liked to see the waving woman. Maybe, just this once, she would have talked to him? That would have been neat!
Since it’s still light out, Goro takes out a book. He always carries some with him because they can serve as an escape. When he reads stories, Goro is almost able to forget about his own circumstances. He would read them in the bathhouse, but he’s terrified of getting the books wet. There’s no way either his mother or himself would have enough money to replace them, so he’s careful not to ruin them.
Today, he had stuffed three threadbare books into his bag. The books he has don’t match any true literary preference, as most of them were saved from second-hand shops or the trash by his mother. They vary in terms of themes and genres. Before school today, he had grabbed a collection of Robin Hood tales, a book on Norse mythology, and an entry in a long-running detective series. Hopefully, he can get lost in one of them.
—---------------------------------------------------------
As day transitions into night, it gets harder and harder for Goro to read. The words on the pages before him become unintelligible as the light around him fades. He looks at his second-hand watch, a gift from his mother, to track the time. It won’t be okay for him to return home until 10:00 p.m. The face of his dented watch reveals it is only 8:00 p.m. He still has 2 hours to burn before he can go home.
I have to wait here. Mama’s counting on me to stay out until 10:00 p.m. I won’t disappoint her.
He ends up curled under the tree for the remaining two hours. Once it is dark enough he watches the stars. They look beautiful.
—---------------------------------------------------------
He’s shivering as he finally makes his way home. Just as his mother asked of him, he was out until 10:00 p.m. Anything he can do to make her life easier, ranging from staying away when her friends visit to enduring hunger on a daily basis, he does.
—---------------------------------------------------------
Something is off when he finally enters the small apartment he shares with his mother. The main living room and kitchen are completely dark. There’s no sign of his mother. No matter how tired she is, after serving her friends, she always makes an effort to greet him. The tight hug she gives him and kiss she places on his head whenever he comes back are more than worth the hours of loneliness he spends in the bathhouse or under his tree.
He decides to check the kitchen when it becomes clear his mother isn’t going to be greeting him. She had promised that she would have food for him tonight, and even though he had tried to believe her, he is unsurprised when he finds no food on the table and bare cabinets.
I can’t complain about having no food. Mom needs money for more important things. She can’t spend all of it on me. I’m not important, obviously, since everyone says I’m a mistake.
A faint, dripping sound catches his attention. Goro runs up the stairs to their small bathroom. He can see light emanating from under the door. When he approaches the door to open it, the dripping sound becomes more clear.
Did mom leave the bathtub on? Why would she do that?
Neither she nor Goro frequently use their small bathtub. The water bill for using it regularly would be too expensive. And, if there’s one thing his mom always tells him, it’s to make sure he turns it off on the very rare occasion that he is permitted to use it. Every yen counts. She's always been clear about that.
Goro reaches for the knob and tries to open the bathroom door. He needs to investigate what’s going on. Or, better yet, he needs to turn the faucet off. Doing so will be useful, since he’ll be helping his mother save money. Despite his best efforts, the door doesn’t budge. It dawns on him that its locked. Once he makes that realization, Goro decides to call out to his mother. She must be behind the door if it’s locked, right?
"Mama?"
There is no answer. Goro waits five minutes before speaking again.
"Are you hurt?"
Silence. He allows it to stretch for a few more minutes before speaking up again.
"Do you need help?"
The dripping sound continues. Goro's socks are getting wet. When he looks down, he notices that the floor is covered in water. How long has the bathtub been running?
“Mama, the bathtub is overflowing! What’re you doing in there?”
His statement and question are met, once again, with silence. With each passing minute, Goro’s panic grows. Something has to be wrong. An overwhelming urge to get into the bathroom overtakes him. However, it is locked. His mother has locked him out. A series of jumbled questions, which he has no answers for, run through Goro’s mind.
Why would mother possibly lock me out? Why is she not answering? Why is there water all over the floor? Is she hurt? Is she angry at me? Did I somehow come home too early and anger one of her friends?
Shaking from his panic, Goro goes downstairs and rummages through a drawer until he finds a pen. He races back up to the locked door. Impulsively, he thinks about opening it with no further preamble, but he decides against that. He may as well try one last attempt at getting his mother to open it herself.
"Mama, it’s Goro. I don’t know if you’re hurt or what’s going on, but please open the door! I’m worried!"
Silence once again greets him from beyond the door.
Desperately, Goro tries to justify why she’s not answering him.
Mom’s probably just tired. I should leave her be. Maybe she’s just resting in the bath?
No, his justifications don’t make sense. Something is very wrong. He needs to take action.
"I’m going to open the door now. I’m sorry if you’re busy with something in there."
Jiggling the pen back and forth, until he hears a faint click from the lock, Goro loses all sense of self-control and throws himself into the bathroom once the door is open. Seconds from now, he’ll wish that he never entered the room to begin with.
What greets him is a sight that will haunt every moment of his life, both conscious and unconscious, for the rest of his days. His mother is slumped in the bathtub. A half-empty bottle of wine is sitting on the edge of the tub, next to her left arm. The water around her is unmistakably red. She has cuts up and down her arms. Her skin, normally a sun-kissed color, is milky pale. When Goro touches her, mainly in an attempt to shake her awake, the only warmth he finds remaining on her body is from the cooling water that surrounds her. Her skin feels like ice. There is a vacant stare in her eyes. They are clearly unseeing.
His thoughts promptly devolve into madness.
This is my fault! I was too much for her! She died because of me! She died saddled with a bastard parasite that ate away at her life until there was nothing left! I killed her! I am a murderer!
Goro screams. He propels his body away from the bathtub and vomits bile all over himself and the floor. Glancing down at his hands reveal that they are stained red with blood. Her blood. No! He needs to get it off!
Something within him shatters. If he could concentrate enough beyond the static that is rapidly filling his head, he may have even been able to pinpoint two shards born from the shattering of his subconscious. One shard desires justice for his mother. The other desires to rain chaos down upon all those who caused her to hurt herself. Both shards are angry and born of confusion.
He doesn’t know it, yet, but his own soul has been irrevocably broken.
Goro crumples to the bathroom floor, which he will later realize is covered with a mix of blood and water from the tub, and snaps.
—---------------------------------------------------------
It takes two days for anybody to realize that the soft-spoken, often confrontational, smart, but ultimately shameful bastard child is missing from school. When someone does, the police are called to do a welfare check on him. They find Goro in the same position he assumed upon finding his mother’s body. He’s curled up on the floor. Sobs are wracking his body. He hasn’t eaten or drank anything, much less moved, in two days. He’s clutching the hand of his deceased mother like a lifeline.
The police have to drag him kicking and screaming from the apartment. They are trying to take him away from his mother. He can’t leave her. She is all he has. But she’s dead now. She’s dead, and she's left him. He has no father or any other family to speak of.
Goro Akechi is an undesirable child, now lost and alone in the world.
—---------------------------------------------------------
At 7 years old, he’s placed in an orphanage. He’s inconsolable on a daily basis, having lost the one person who he knew cared about him. His mind can’t handle that. He simply cries at all hours of the day and into the night. The staff get tired of his behavior pretty quickly. They lock him into rooms and refuse to let him out until he’s calm. When that doesn’t work, they withhold food from him. That doesn’t stop his tears, either, as Goro is used to going hungry. Eventually, they move on to beating him. The pain eventually becomes enough to break him, and slowly, he stops outwardly mourning his mother. Even though he acts calmer, that doesn’t change the fact that he feels dead inside.
At 8 years old, Goro is placed with a foster family for the first time. They treat him nicely for around 6 months. They tell him they want to adopt him because they can't have a child of their own, whatever that means. However, once his foster mother finds out she is miraculously pregnant, the couple he was living with wash their hands of him. They only wanted him until they had a child of their own.
At 10 years old, Goro has flitted between orphanages and foster homes more times than he can count. All of the foster homes had only wanted him for their own ends. Many sought payment for taking care of him. When they found that the money was not enough or that they couldn’t cope with him, they’d return him. Some foster parents wanted to be known as the type of people who would take in a troubled kid and reform him. All of those types give up when his emotional dis-regulation and problems with eating prove to be too much. He is always returned and unwanted.
By the time he reaches age 11, he’s unbalanced. Goro is a cursed child, everyone agrees. He tries his best; he really does. He reaches for his intelligence. His charm. Anything. It’s never good enough for anyone to want to keep him. There’s beatings. Neglect. Manipulation. All forms of emotional abuse. Those things begin to blend together with time. They become normal and commonplace for him.
Over the years, a simmering resentment forms within Goro. It’s aimed at the shitbag father who cursed his mother with him before he abandoned her. It lashes out at the society that somehow sees him as worthless simply for the circumstances of his birth, as if he had any control over that. His resentment becomes aimed at the adults, who seem to think he should just forgive and forget. They want him to move on with his life and grow as a person. He hates them. He hates himself.
Goro wants justice for his mother. He wants vengeance against the people who forced her into the circumstances that had become too much for her. There’s just no way he can obtain either justice or vengeance under his current circumstances.
He has no real power. Every adult he encounters makes sure to remind him of that universal fact.
—---------------------------------------------------------
On a particularly memorable occasion, when he is 12, a teacher poses a question: ‘What is something that you hate?’ She goes around the class, asking everyone. Most of his peers say they dislike simple or trivial things. ‘Homework.’ ‘Doing chores.’ ‘When my younger sibling annoys me.’
Goro knows he, intrinsically, that he shouldn’t say his real answer. He knows he should hide his true feelings. But he’s so tired of keeping his hatred and resentment for the ghost of his father to himself. He desperately wants someone, anyone, to understand his pain.
So, when the teacher gets to him, Goro gives her an honest answer.
"Goro-chan, do you have an answer of your own for the question posed?"
"My father."
"Excuse me?"
"I said I hate my father. He left my mother alone to die. He abandoned me. Everyone says I should forgive him or that it’s okay. But it’s not. One day, I want to get back at him.”
A pin could be heard dropping within the room once he’s done giving his answer. Goro is quickly ushered into the principal’s office. He receives the dressing-down of a lifetime. The school calls his current shitbag foster parents. What family are they again, number 20? He’s not sure. The staff let him out for recess, likely because they don’t know what to do with him, and the other kids either avoid him like the plague or make fun of him.
Even though he’s tried to build strong walls around his own heart, the words they say about him still hurt. They always hurt.
”How can someone hate his own dad?"
"He doesn’t even know the guy! That’s what happens when you’re a bastard! If you ask me, that guy dodged a bullet by leaving that kid and his mom! I bet both of ‘em are crazy!”
"I hope he doesn’t come back. He’s scary!"
Goro is ultimately shipped back to the local orphanage after the incident. The staff there say he’s twelve now. It’s been five years. He shouldn’t continue to act out like this. He lies awake in his room, reading copies of threadbare books to maintain his sanity day-to-day. The orphanage can’t get the local school to agree to take him back. Goro doesn’t speak unless spoken to. He doesn’t eat unless told to. There’s no escape from his misery, even in sleep. Whenever he sleeps, he’s just teleported back there, to the hallway with the locked door at the end.
—---------------------------------------------------------
It’s been around a month since his latest incident when one of the staff members at the orphanage comes to see him. Apparently, there’s a person downstairs interested in taking him in. Goro laughs in the staff member’s face when he tells him. The man curses at him and shakes his head before telling him he better get himself in order and go downstairs.
Goro’s mind devolves into madness once the door to his room slams shut.
I’m broken! Shattered! People want to see the charming orphan boy who rose above the shit hand he’s been dealt in life! They don’t want someone like me! This has to be a joke!
Dutifully, Goro gets his hair in order. He puts on a new pair of clothes for the first time in days. With a great amount of effort, he plasters what he hopes is a charming smile on his face and resolves to remain calm.
The man sitting in the main room of the orphanage is someone Goro thinks he vaguely recognizes. He doesn’t know where he’s seen the man before. Perhaps he’s just crazy. Everyone around him seems to think he is. Maybe they’re right.
He resolves to commit the man’s features to memory.
Sharp eyes. Completely bald head. Tall. Wears weird orange-tinted sunglasses. He has an aura of power surrounding him. His clothes indicate that he has money. Great, that means he’s likely here looking for a charity case to prove his own morality. I’ve seen types like him before. All of them think they can handle the traumatized orphan who found his mother’s body. All of them have been wrong.
Goro is pulled out of his thoughts when the man begins to speak to him.
"Hello Akechi-kun.”
Goro narrows his eyes.
Why is this man being so formal with me?
“I’ll keep this as simple as possible. I am here to take you away from this place. Specifically, I want to take you with me to Tokyo. I, perhaps, can offer you a chance at a better life. What do you say?"
He stares at the man in disbelief. He wants to tell him to fuck off. He's crazy for even thinking that Goro is worth a single second of his time. However, he manages to reach for his mask of pleasantness before speaking. This man is different from those who came before him. Goro wants to know why.
"Can I have your name and more details before I agree to this? Not that I am not grateful; I am, but this is sudden. Why me, may I ask? I’m sure there are better options out there. Why don’t you just have a child of your own? After all, that’s what everyone seems to want, at least in my experience.”
The man gives him a sharp smile.
Does that indicate that he intends to actually answer my questions? Most adults never do. And, really, why should they? They always see me as beneath them. Is this man somehow different from all those I’ve met before? And, if he is, why? What makes him different? I need more information.
"You are well within your rights to ask questions of me, Akechi-kun. My name is Masayoshi Shido. I am seeking you out based on a hunch I have. We may be family. We may not be. I can save you from this life. A life of pain. Regret. A life of being raised alongside the dregs of society. Your response?"
Goro’s mind is whirling from the information he’s been given.
They may be family? This man wants to save me? But why? It's been years since I’ve met anyone who has alleged to be my family. Why is this man really here? Is he him? Is this my father? Is this the phantom that I've resented for as long as I've understood what the words bastard and whore meant?
"I must ask you one question, and please answer it honestly: are you my father?"
The sharp smile on Masayoshi Shido’s face takes on an even sharper edge. When he answers, his own eyes are locked on Goro’s.
"I am glad that you asked. You are sharp. I’m sure you get that from me. To answer your question, yes, Akechi-kun, I am your father."
Goro’s world promptly stops spinning on its axis.
So, this is him. Masayoshi Shido. This is the man I’ve spent years hating. This is the man who ruined my mother’s life by cursing her with me. He’s here. Now. Right in front of me. He’s within striking range. If I want, I can launch myself across the table and attack Shido. I want nothing more than to do that right this second.
A more rational part of his mind argues that he can agree to this man’s terms. That he needs to play the long game.
Maybe something will come of it? Shido owes me an explanation for his actions. I could get one if I agree to his terms. If that’s the case, then, I’ll do what I must.
Goro takes a deep breath. He centers himself. He prepares to make a deal that will irreversibly change the entire course of his life. He’s about to make a deal with the devil.
"I’ll consent to go with you. When will we be leaving, Shido-san?"
”Right now. Follow me, Akechi-kun. My car was awaiting our arrival, right outside, as we spoke.”
—---------------------------------------------------------
The self-declared god of control watches this interaction with bated breath. It notes that the meeting between its ideal champion, Goro Akechi, and its pawn, Masayoshi Shido, is occurring earlier than it should.
Yaldaboth also notes that the situation is reversed: his champion should have been the one to approach Shido. Yet, it was Shido who approached his champion. Interesting.
How will these changes impact the game? Will they at all? Or, as Yaldaboth believes, is the ending predetermined and immutable?
—---------------------------------------------------------
Somewhere, within the Sea of Souls, a butterfly flaps its wings.