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Once, Akechi believed that the only thing that could make him happy was revenge against Shido. To dispense justice with his own hands, the justice that Shido deserved. To ruin his life just as he had once shattered Akechi’s and his mother’s lives. To let him rise to the very top, only to pull him down to the very bottom—taking everything that his rotten soul valued, and even more. Even if it cost his own life, even at the expense of others’ lives—it didn’t matter to him. There was only him and his sense of justice. Family, friendship, love—things he seemed to have been deprived of from birth—all faded in comparison to exacting vengeance on the man he blamed for all his misfortunes.
But it turned out that happiness required far less than he had thought.
In the tiny apartment barely big enough for two people, where the bathroom was always damp from lack of proper ventilation, where the smell of cooking lingered for days, he was truly happy. This realization hit him like a bolt from the blue and defied all attempts at explanation for a long time. For the first time, the emptiness vanished, replaced by an ordinary calm. Without a storm of emotions, it spread gently through his body, preserving clarity of mind and sober thought.
Every morning, the aroma of freshly brewed coffee woke him. At lunch, a carefully packed bento awaited him, with a note signed “XXX.” Dinner replaced the usual instant noodles with various types of meat and rice.
But the most important detail of this idyll was that in the evening, he was no longer met by the lonely silence of an empty apartment. Instead, there was a warm light, soft music, and delightful chaos in the kitchen, orchestrated by his rival—no, by now, certainly not a rival anymore. At some point, the phrase “Honey, I’m home” stopped being sarcastic, and “Honey” always responded sincerely with “Welcome back,” now adding a gentle, smudged kiss on the cheek. It turned out this was easy to get used to.
The emptiness in his soul was filled; now only the emptiness of time remained. For many years, every free minute had been spent devising the perfect plan for revenge. Now, it no longer mattered, and he could devote that time to truly important things. On Fridays, they played billiards together, followed by exploring Tokyo’s street food scenes. Saturdays were for walks or visits to a chess club, while Sundays were spent lazily at home watching movies or reading books.
At night, when the city quieted down, all masks finally dropped. Tender kisses became languid and full of desire, gradually moving lower, while hands no longer refrained from caressing every reachable patch of skin with abandon. And when there was no air left between them, Akechi could almost physically feel a singularity engulfing everything around them, their souls and bodies weaving into a single entity, leaving nothing behind but love. It was in these moments that the emptiness in his soul and heart finally filled, giving meaning to his wretched existence on this doomed planet. Then, in the morning, burying his nose in Ren’s neck and listening to his quiet breathing, his world would shrink down to this small apartment and the warm body holding him close.
Maybe this was happiness after all; at least, he wanted to believe it was. Especially considering these were nonexistent memories his mind conjured before his final breath. Because now, he is not lying in Ren’s warm embrace but on cold concrete, like a stray dog slowly dying in complete solitude. And only now does he finally realize that his short life was spent chasing phantom justice and revenge against a man for whom he was—and always would be—an empty void. Ironically, he wasn’t far from his mother’s fate, dying as pitifully and by the same man’s hand.
But what a beautiful story it could have been. The curtain falls, the lights go out, carrying away the last traces of his life—a life that never truly belonged to him.
Maybe in another life, he will be able to live the way he dreamed of living this one.