For once, he wasn’t here to dig for clues, plan an escape, or negotiate for his life. He was just... existing.
Pausing near a quiet clearing, Akira pulled out his camera, tilting his head as he considered the scene before him. A small pond shimmered under the sunlight, its surface occasionally disturbed by the ripples of ducks gliding lazily across it. A perfect shot.
He adjusted the lens and raised the camera, steadying his hands as he framed the scene.
Click.
The image came out nice enough, but he didn’t lower the camera just yet. His eyes scanned for another interesting subject—a pair of kids playing on the grass, a couple walking hand in hand, or maybe that old man peacefully feeding pigeons on a nearby bench.
But his focus was abruptly drawn elsewhere.
Two figures stepped into view, just at the edge of the frame. One of them stood out immediately—his sharp attire, purposeful stride, and neatly combed hair all too familiar. It was Goro Akechi, walking past the short fence in the way only he could: by somehow managing to look both out of place and perfectly at home.
But Akira’s finger hesitated over the shutter as a second figure appeared behind the first.
Another Goro Akechi?
This one was distinctly different.
More casual clothing. A completely different stance. A hoodie.
no subject
Pausing near a quiet clearing, Akira pulled out his camera, tilting his head as he considered the scene before him. A small pond shimmered under the sunlight, its surface occasionally disturbed by the ripples of ducks gliding lazily across it. A perfect shot.
He adjusted the lens and raised the camera, steadying his hands as he framed the scene.
Click.
The image came out nice enough, but he didn’t lower the camera just yet. His eyes scanned for another interesting subject—a pair of kids playing on the grass, a couple walking hand in hand, or maybe that old man peacefully feeding pigeons on a nearby bench.
But his focus was abruptly drawn elsewhere.
Two figures stepped into view, just at the edge of the frame. One of them stood out immediately—his sharp attire, purposeful stride, and neatly combed hair all too familiar. It was Goro Akechi, walking past the short fence in the way only he could: by somehow managing to look both out of place and perfectly at home.
But Akira’s finger hesitated over the shutter as a second figure appeared behind the first.
Another Goro Akechi?
This one was distinctly different.
More casual clothing. A completely different stance. A hoodie.
....
Click!