Affirmation
The setting is the roof of an unnamed building in Kyoto at night. Clouds drift overhead, like wayward boats adrift on an ocean of velvet black, unmanned and with no direction. Beyond them, the stars shine quietly, meekly, visible only barely, here in the city. It’s a quiet night, but not a night that could be said to be eerie. One could call it ominous, if one was keenly aware of the darker activities taking place in the city. Or maybe one could call it calming, if they were able to put away such worries and enjoy the dark.
Takagi Junichi fell in neither category, or perhaps both. He was keenly aware of the evil within this city, under the covering blanket of night. He was part of it, a willing and active participant. But he didn’t see the night as ominous. He couldn’t call it calming, either, though, because he wasn’t able to ignore what he knew, what he’d seen, and what he’d done.
He exhaled, a long, slow breath, releasing smoke into the night air. The smell, familiar to his nose, surrounded him, mixing with the crisp and cold air. He held his breath at its end, waiting, embracing the moment. A beat of his heart. Then another. Then he breathed in, coming alive again.
Not that he felt alive. He hadn’t for a long time, barring a few rare moments. He slumped further against the outer wall of the stairwell, sinking lower with his thoughts.
So many things had happened, in the course of the last year. They were like a hazy blur in his mind. Trying to distract him from the question.
He brought his cigarette to his lips again, and took a drag, sucking down the smoke. Then he exhaled it once more. This routine was his way of grounding himself, now, something familiar to press back against. He tipped his head back, resting his arms on his knees.
Some time ago, he’d made a choice. It was rash, hasty, and truth be told, foolish. But he thought it was the right thing to do. A revolution against the injustice of the world. He still believed in that ideal, that goal. Didn’t he? The thought of the corruption and the violence still sickened him. Nobody else truly tried to do anything, not even the supposed ‘heroes’ of the world.
“You’ll have to live with injustice no matter what you do son.”
The words dredged themselves up. He clenched his right hand into a fist at the memory. He still, on instinct, wanted to refute those words. Because it hurt that the world was the way it is. But here, alone with himself and none other beneath that inky black sky and those fleeting clouds, Junichi couldn’t muster the heart to hold the lie. The truth, like a sickness, stuck inside of him. Those words were correct. He knew that, with what he’d seen. He’d seen it everywhere. In the Heroes, in the Revolution he thought was the answer. In the Villains of the world, and in the normal people who just tried to live their lives.
In himself. He was part of that injustice. He’d killed before, where perhaps he didn’t need to. Inflicted pain and suffering and lasting injury.
Did he still have a choice?
That was the question, rearing its ugly head. Had he passed the line where he could no longer justify his actions, become the evil he swore to fight? Or was there still a path he could walk in life, one he could accept in his heart.
“Heh, a punch like this is nothing…!” Junichi scoffed, a vicious smirk on his face.
“Then why are you rubbing your jaw still, asshole?” Maxine shot back.
Junichi’s hand paused on his jaw, which he knew was fractured. It hurt like a bitch, but it just needed a little adjustment, and-
‘Besides, I can’t show weakness here.’ He idly thought as he activated his quirk in his jaw, reaching and growing bone tissue across the fracture as he held it tight.
He didn’t answer her, and the prison cell lapsed into silence which began to drag on. Junichi tested his jaw, working it open and closed, trying to get a feel of the fix. Good enough.
“I bet this is the first time you’ve ever been in a prison cell. You talk tough and walk tough, but you smell like privilege. That’s not something you can hide.”
“I bet you enjoyed smelling me, creep.” She snapped, crossing her arms across her chest and leaning away.
Junichi’s eye twitched. He wanted to fire off another insult, but…
“Have you even seen a real villain? Seen how bad things can get? Have you-”
Junichi stopped mid-sentence. ‘Have you ever had to fight for your life? Take another?’ is the thought that should’ve continued into words, but his mouth refused to say them. There was a bitter taste, a deep discomfort, all of a sudden. Max rolled her eyes and didn’t answer.
She didn’t even take the bait, but why… why did Junichi feel sad, all of a sudden?
Thoughts and memories were traitors. Lies were so much more comfortable.
Junichi already knew he couldn’t accept the path he was heading towards. Somewhere, his anger had boiled over and blinded him. The look on Majestic’s face, the sound in his voice. The pain of reading that letter of rejection.
“What a terrible quirk! Ha,” Majestic barked out a derisive laugh from the sidelines, “you practically kill yourself and this is all you measure up to. Even if you could somehow twist this for PR…”
He shook his head and walked on by. The test was over. Junichi’s score… wasn’t bad. In fact, it was quite good. Not top marks, but enough to qualify, surely! So why was his heart so low in his chest? Majestic was supposed to be a hero, one of the best. Hearing him speak like that, even in passing…
Junichi deliberately sucked in a gulp of air and then forcefully expelled it, forcing his mind clear.
‘I’ll just have to show him what I can do when I get accepted!’
Junichi forced himself to stand, wincing from his various injuries, still sluggishly bleeding. His feet were sore, and his legs were trembling, but he’d put in his best effort, all of his passion and all of his power. He was strong, he knew it, so he just needed to work hard, and he could make the world a better place, for real!
He was naive, so, so naive. Rejection was never easy to swallow, so instead he’d… lashed out, really, like a rebellious teen. Except he had no family to rebel against.
They were dead.
So instead he tried to take it out on the system that had hurt him. Admitting that, even in this safe dark, to himself and himself alone, still hurt. He swallowed his saliva shakily, and brought his cigarette to his lips once more, his hand shivering. It was strange; tonight wasn’t that cold. Junichi took another drag.
Then exhaled the smoke once more.
“You still have a choice.”
It was stupid how shaken up he’d become over those words. An image of blonde hair, and a stupid, infectious grin pushed into his mind. He pushed it away. Infuriatingly stupid.
“Thanks, Desolator-san.” He said to the empty air above him, as he looked up at the stars. His voice was quiet, hoarse. He glanced down at his right hand, finally noticing that he’d been digging his nails into his palm hard enough to draw blood, which was slowly dripping to the concrete floor below. He relaxed his hand, which was shaking faintly just like the other.
“I… still have a choice, huh? But… I have a job to do. Professionals finish what they start, right?”
Junichi brought his cigarette back to his lips, but only the butt was left, now. He let his hand drop, the cigarette butt with it. There was the faintest gray starting to shine its way into the sky. Junichi glanced down, tilting his head away from the sky and towards the horizon. The sun would be up soon.
“Yeah. One job. Then… I suppose I can see about that choice.”