How did he get here? When did he get here? He stumbles for a moment as he bumps shoulders with a passing stranger, staggering and only barely managing to catch himself before he adds to his impressive collection of bumps, bruises, and scrapes.

His distress and confusion are apparent to all who actually notice, and inexplicably, the idea makes him distinctly uncomfortable.  It’s a good thing he’s stuck mostly to the back areas of town. Equally good as well that people seemed by an large to be ignoring him completely.

If he could just find some ounce of familiarity, it might anchor him, but instead he’s only being shepherded around by the packed crowds of Shibuya station...

Dr Maruki’s sessions had come in handy far more often than the boy had first thought. Initially, really, he’d gone to him out of morbid curiosity, but when he’d gained the other as a confidant... One that’s benefits in battle had turned the tides of victory in an instant on more than one occasion... Akira had found himself visiting weekly. It didn’t particularly help that the good doctor was also incredibly good company.

As the month’s had worn on, though, and the toll of justice ate away at him physically and mentally Akira had started to dip more into Maruki’s actual area of expertise, rather than mental training. He was starting to feel exhausted, stressed, the weight of what had happened after Kaneshiro’s palace was no doubt just a clink in a chain that would be never ending, but some relief to at least talk about being in such a mental place would surely only bring benefit.

And so that’s how he found himself outside Maruki’s office once more, knocking lightly on the glass with his knuckles and Morgana shuffled around uncomfortably in his bag. The student body had at least disbursed for the day rather quickly, and he’d already let his friends know he intended to stay behind after school.