January 2002

~**~  Hey, all! Thanks for taking a look at my fanfic!  There's almost no Akira fanfiction on
the net,and I think that is just an outrage, so here I am, attempting to better the world for all
of us with my imagination. (Well, some of mine, and A LOT of Otomo Katsuhiro's!)  Alright,
time to prevent being sued: I don't own and didn't create Akira or anything that has to do
with Akira, although I wish I did, because MAN, I'd be rich and considered a genius!  But,
I'll leave that to Otomo-sama. Please don't sue me, I have no money, I'm saving it up to buy
the Akira graphic novels! OK, coming off of that, here's an even more important
announcement:

This is a YAOI FANFICTION!!  If you don't like this kind of thing, don't read it, it's that simple.
It's about a relationship between Kaneda and Yamagata. This fic takes place a year after
everything that happened in the movie/manga, and is from Kaneda's point of view.  I mixed
some concepts from the movie and some from the manga in this story, if you've never read
the manga you might be a little confused in later chapters, but not too much. Also, this fanfic,
like any fanfic, contains spoilers.
Ok, any more warnings? I don't think so.  ^_^;; Sorry, this is my first fanfic on the
web, and I'm not quite sure what to say! Well, just sit back, relax, and enjoy!
Remember, feedback is a necessity, PLEASE e-mail me at Carrie5308@aol.com with
your opinions! Of course, any flamers will be put on the wall of shame on my future web site.
(Don't worry, I won't forget by then!)  ^_~  ~**~


Chapter One

Another restless night. Tossing and turning, tangled up in my sheets. Covered in a cold
sweat. My heart beating so fast and so hard, my whole body vibrated with it. And once
again, being woken up by my own screaming.
"YAMAGATA!!!!!"
I couldn't breathe. Sitting up in my bed, I doubled over, trying to get my lungs to work,
and trying to get my stomach to stop churning.  My entire body was soaked with sweat,
and it ran off me like rain water, having no clothes to catch and stop it's fall.  I let the weight
of my body drop me back into a laying position. Rolling over, I caught a glimpse of the
bright red numbers that glared at me from the clock on the milk crate I used as a nightstand.
I screamed again, louder this time, and buried my face in my pillow to hide my own tears
from myself.
3:25 in the morning. It was the next day already. The day I had been dreading. It had been a
year. It's only been one hellish, goddamn, mother fucking YEAR!!!!!
And with that thought, I grabbed the clock with one hand, ripped it's cord out of the wall, and
threw it across the room. The cracking of plastic against the wall and the tinkle of it hitting
the floor gave me no satisfaction whatsoever. Tears of rage spilled down my cheeks,
adding more moisture to my body.
It had only been a year. It felt like twenty. And I felt fifty. Looked the same, that was for sure,
except for the fact that I hardly ever smiled anymore, and every time I looked in the mirror, I
was shocked to see the kid that was looking back at me. I'm seventeen years old. Ha! That
number sounded ridiculous to my ancient ears.
It had happened a year ago, but my memory was like torture, and I managed to live it all
again, every night, 362 nights out of that year.  (I counted.)
One year ago that everything I knew fell apart, that I lost nearly all hope and reason. One
year ago that my entire life literally died right in front of me. 
Because, on this very day, it had been one year since Tetsuo had killed Yamagata.
I lay sprawled out on my back, staring up at the ceiling, counting the cracks that laced
delicately though the plaster, not really comprehending any of it. I stared at those cracks
until more tears blurred my vision, and I covered my face with my hands. Yamagata, why?
I stared at the manual darkness that spread out in front of me and, for the first time in years,
tried to remember how it had all began.

*   *   *   *

I hadn't been at the orphanage long, maybe two months or so, but I already knew that the
security wasn't worth shit, and that it was incredibly easy to sneak out of your room and
escape to the playground behind the building. I did it every night. The first time, I was
shocked to see that I was the only one there. Some kids were ten years old, had been
there their entire lives, and didn't know. Or maybe they just didn't care anymore.
It was great having the playground to myself. For six glorious hours, I owned the place.
With no supervision, you could pump as high as you wanted on the swings, and there
was never a mile long line waiting to get on the slide. Still, my favorite part was always
the chalk. There was a big bucket of it in the small storage cabinet (which was never
locked) and I would spend hours with it, drawing huge, flowing, meaningless designs all
over the blacktop. Most of the time I would strip down to my underwear (don't laugh, damn
it, I was only seven and besides, I looked damn cute in my little briefs) and lay down and
just scribble. The pavement was always so wonderfully cool against my bare skin, and if I
wasn't careful, I could get so relaxed that I would fall asleep. (I confess that I still like the
way it feels. Some nights when I can't sleep, I walk over to an area of the city I know is
always empty and just lay down on the street. And before you ask, I swear I keep my pants
on.)  
It was hysterical the first time to see the teachers and guardians walk outside in the
morning and stare in shock at the colorful shapes that had manifested on the blacktop
overnight. I tell you, it hurt so bad to hold in my laughter. I thought I was gonna explode;
I'm sure my eyes were bugging out of my head. But I had to keep it in. I couldn't get
caught! 'Cause ya know, Ihated that orphanage with an incredible passion. It was way
too stuffy in that place, the kids were morons, and there was nothing I hated more than
being trapped inside. I mean, there's no worse injustice than not being able to go outside
unless someone tells you you can. What the hell is that about?! That's why being able to
sneak out at night was so important to me. And it's also why I became utterly obsessed
with a spectacle I witnessed one clear hot night, after being at the orphanage for four
months.
Once again, I was outside, sliding and swinging with the moon as my only witness.The
pavement cooled my body, and felt especially good on the skin that had been trapped
inside my cute little briefs all day. (Well hey, like I said, it was hot; cut me some slack.)
Doodling a pink and blue polka-dotted version of Godzilla next to the see-saw, I heard a
noise that I didn't think much of at first--a low humming coming from a small distance away.
It could have been anything; this was a city after all. It could've been something as simple
as a car's tires on the street to an army helicopter buzzing in the sky. I just kept right on
drawing. The humming got louder and louder, but still I didn't notice--not until the humming
became a roar. My ear was rested on the blacktop, and I could hear the vibration of the
street. When the roar was accompanied by loud screaming and laughter, that's when I
stood up and ran to the side of the building to get a look. I watched as six single headlights
illuminated long triangular patches on the street in front of the orphanage. Six motorcycles.
I knew what they were, but I never got such an up-close look at some before. Eight young
men rode on those motorcycles; I could only see their silhouettes, but they looked huge
compared to my seven years; I imagine now that they were about ten years older than I was
then. Along with the eight bulky figures I recognized two as the wispy figures of teenage
girls. They shouted things to each other that I couldn't make out, but I heard a loud smack as
one shadow whapped another smaller one over the head, accompanied by a harshly
whispered order. "Keep your goddamn voice down, ya faggot." The girls giggled at the
comment, although their laughter was tinged with nervousness. The same voice responded
to that sound: "That goes for you two whores, too. I don't want you getting us caught like you
did last time, ya got me!" It wasn't a question. No answer. Forgetting about my nakedness, I
pressed my body against the wall and edged myself closer to the front of the building.
The figures were mounting the steps now, surprisingly silent despite how heavy their foot-
steps appeared to be. Four stood pressed against the walls around the door frame, two on
each side, standing watch. Another, shrouded in black clothes, put his face close to the
small windows on the double doors leading to the front lobby and peered through. Seeing
that the coast was clear, he gave a quick nod to his partners and trotted quietly to the side,
leaving the space in front of the door wide open for yet another guy. "Alright, man, do your
thing," he mumbled. 
The two guys that were left walked off the steps and to the corners where the side and front
walls met. The girls stood behind them, hiding, their arms wrapped around the guys' waists.
I, who had been sneaking closer and closer to the front steps from the left side wall, ran
quickly away from the corner and crouched safely in a shadow, back where I had started
from.  I couldn't see what was happening, but I assumed that the one guy "doing his thing"
meant trying to break into the building.  It was really quiet for awhile, until an impatient and
rather loud whisper rose into the air: "Christ, man, what the hell is taking you so long?!" The
voice that whispered back was the same voice that had yelled at the others before. "Keep
your pants on, asshole! I'd like to see you crack a lock like this."
The response: "Ok, ok, sorry, but we gotta get that money soon! That new shit is really
expensive, and we're all starting to suffer withdrawal. Besides, I'm not the one that has
trouble keeping their pants on, remember? That's where all our dough went in the first
place. You just gotta have them 'classy girls' I believe is how you put it. How classy can
a girl be if she stands on a corner and sells herself to thousands of different sleaze bags
like y--"
Another smack, louder this time. "Shut the hell up, jackass!! Don't be preaching to me. How
many different STDs do you have by now, anyway. Next time I want your opinion--if that ever
happens--I'll beat it....hey, I got it!"
And with a triumphant "Ha ha!," the biker pushed the door open.
Some congratulatory words and a few slaps on the backs commenced before the
delinquents pulled thick black gloves on their hands and thin black stockings over their faces
to prevent evidence, and charged quietly through the doors. If you didn't think of the
seriousness of the matter, it was really quite a funny thing to watch. It reminds me of one of
those "How many men does it take to screw in a light bulb" kind of jokes. How many punks
does it take to open a door? And they pulled on their gloves so delicately, like they were
surgeons or something. And believe me, there's nothing like watching a small throng of huge
teenage guys sneaking and tip-toeing around in the middle of the night with women's
undergarments covering their heads. It's enough to make you piss your pants. Really, I still
laugh when I think about it now.	
And I laughed then, too. I never was a very serious kid, and I certainly didn't know when to
keep my mouth shut. (Anyone can tell you that I still don't, now.)  Ever since the door had
been opened, the creeps standing watch had been occupied, and I had snuck right up to the
front of the building, unnoticed, hiding in a bush that was below a large window. I watched
those losers prance about with panty-hoes on their heads, and I just couldn't hold it in. When
my small giggle erupted into the quiet night air, all ten heads shot up and looked around.  
The big guy who broke the lock (who I assumed to be the leader of that lovely little motley
crew) took a few menacing steps away from the door, standing on the front step, leaning
forward and sticking his neck out in front of him, looking around. "Go check!"  he hissed at
a few of his guys. They ran down the steps and trotted around the front of the building,
running to the corners and looking around the side walls.
One guy stopped right in front of the bush. I pressed myself flat against the wall, holding my
breath and shutting my eyes tight, trying so hard not to move, and being too scared to do
so, anyway.  My lips pulled back in a terrified grimace, and I fought against tears as I
prepared for what I knew was my inevitable end.
But to my shock and relief, I heard his footsteps move away from me.  I opened one eye,
then the other, and when I realized I was undetected and safe, I sunk involuntarily to the
ground, my naked rear plopping heavily on the grass.
He ran up the steps. "There's no one here, Johei," he reported to the leader.
Johei eyed him suspiciously.  "Are you sure? I know I heard a giggle...." He glared over in
the direction of the girls, who were now leaning boredly against a railing, smoking cigarettes.
When they saw his stare, their mouths fell open slightly, their eyes growing wide.
"Listen, man, we don't have time for this! If we wait any longer, we're gonna get caught! Let's
just get this over with!"
Johei's head turned quickly over to my would-be captor, his eyes losing none of the piercing
stare that had beheld the girls. "Don't you ever tell me what to do, you hear me?!" He
grabbed the guy by his collar, lifted him a few centimeters off the ground, then threw him like
a rag doll, off the steps and out of his way.  He turned away quickly and marched through the
doorway. (Now, I know what you're thinking.  Why the hell didn't someone notice all this crap
and come running? Well, I told you the security at that place wasn't worth any shit out of your
ass, right? Kind of pathetic, huh?)
Johei's men quickly followed him through the doors.  Knowing that only the girls were left
outside, and not assuming either of them to be particularly bright, I figured it was safe for me
to reveal my position, partially, for just a few minutes. I stood up on tip-toe behind the bush
and rested my fingertips on the window sill, using them to push myself up just enough so I
could see through the glass. Even though it was dark, I could see the silhouettes as they
examined different doors, trying to figure out which would be the most logical place to keep
any money.
I watched as they tried the various knobs, and then they paused in front of one of the doors;
I saw Johei's large figure stoop down in front of it, and I knew they had found their target.  
Not really wanting to witness any more of this act of vandalism, I lowered myself and turned
away from the building, ready to resume my crouch behind the bush. I was about half way
down when I noticed something near the bikes that hadn't caught my attention before.
Seeing it caused my breath to catch in my throat; I felt my eyes grow wide and my ears
grow warm. It was a boy. A boy sitting on one of the motorcycles, quiet and serene, his
hands folded in his lap, short legs swinging as they dangled high above the ground. He
looked to be about my age, maybe slightly older, with large brown eyes nearly completely
shrouded by a mass of unruly black hair. He hadn't said a word since the bikes had first
pulled up in front of the orphanage, and I knew he hadn't moved off the bikes, or so much
as changed position, since this whole thing started. A shy, curious smile played his lips.
He was looking right at me.
I felt fear grab my heart.  He saw me!  He's seen me, I'm going to get caught, I'm going to
get in trouble, and I'm going to get hurt!  All these thoughts ran through my head in less than
half a second.
My face must have been betraying my fear, because even as I was thinking these thoughts,
 the boy's smile vanished and his eyes grew wide, his face filled with a look of indignation.
He shook his head rapidly, with what seemed to be incredible desperation, and I knew in
that instant that he wasn't going to tell the others that he had seen me, that he would never
have even thought of telling the others that he had seen me, and he wanted me to know that
very badly.  
I felt the fear drain from my body--and my face--and I gave the boy a soft smile and a quick
nod. When he saw that I understood, his face just lit up, and he nodded enthusiastically back
at me. But that bright grin quickly turned into a thoughtful frown, and I watched his eyes travel
briefly over my body. He turned away then, and I thought he was leaving me, my stomach
tightening in disappointment, but relief filled me again as he turned back toward me, a
triumphant smile on his boyish face, as if he had just found a solution to a challenging
problem. My stomach lept in excitement as I saw him start to walk toward me. He carried a
huge bundle in his small arms.

He walked right up next to me, (the girls, practically lying on the steps, yawing boredly,
never noticed), and we looked in each other's eyes for a long moment, sizing each other up.
You can tell a lot about a person just from looking in their eyes, and this kid certainly was no
exception. His eyes were bright and very friendly, with an intelligent sheen to them; but, if
you looked deeper, you could see a hardness that suggested a long, difficult life. This was
impressive in such a young boy, and I couldn't tear my gaze from his, and I wouldn't have if
he hadn't surprised me by dropping his bundle on the ground at my feet.
I looked down at it, not sure what it was at first. A lot of cloth, I realized, at least compared to
the clothes that I, as a child, wore, and I knew it must have belonged to one of the bikers. A
closer look told me it was a jacket, soft leather, and even in the pitch darkness I knew it was
bright red. It was plain, there were no designs on it. (Designs that would later be added by
me.)  I looked at the jacket, then back up at the boy, who was still wearing that triumphant
grin, then back at the jacket. Down. Up. Down. Up. It wasn't until I saw the boy staring at my
lower torso area that I realized what this gift meant.  My face grew very hot.
I was naked.  I had forgotten about that.  The boy had seen me hiding, saw me naked, and
decided to do something to help. He stole the jacket to give to me.
I caught his eye again and beamed my gratitude at him. He smiled back. I picked up the
jacket (man, it was heavy!), and tried to slide my arms in the sleeves. The sleeves were
way too long for my stubby little arms, and the jacket slipped right off. I picked it up again
and wrapped it around my shoulders, holding it closed with one hand.  It was huge on me,
covering my knees, nearly falling down to my feet--it stopped right above the ankles. I gave
the boy a questioning glance, and he smiled and nodded heartilly, knowing what I was
asking: yes, I could keep it.
This whole time, neither one of us had said a word. We communicated simply with glances
and smiles, but we understood each other perfectly, and even in that short amount of time,
I knew I had made a friend, and I knew, even after this night was over, that I would see him
again.
We stood there, looking at each other and smiling, until a loud bang! and a lot of screaming
snapped us out of our stupor. We whirled toward the door just in time to see Johei and his
gang running wildly from the building. There was nothing in their arms that suggested they
were successful in their thievery, and I knew they must have gotten caught. Sure enough,
I heard some shouting from inside the orphanage. "You punks better not try to run! I've got
the police on the line, and they're gonna be hot on your trail! If I ever catch you good for
nothing assholes around here again, I'll--!!" And so on, yadda yadda.
Not like the screaming was doing any good. I knew that none of the workers at the
orphanage were brave enough to come out and actually confront the bikers face-to-face,
and that the bikers realized this, too, and were as good as gone. They yanked the gloves
and panty-hoes off, laughing like maniacs as they did so. They didn't even seem to care
that they had nothing to show for this whole endeavor; it just seemed like they found the
whole thing incredibly funny. I was so caught up in watching this change of events that I
nearly forgot about the boy standing next to me, until he grabbed my arm and yanked me
back to face him, his eyes wide with fear. He hissed one, desperate word in my ear.
"Hide!"
And then he shoved me back down behind the bush.
Peering through the leaves, I watched as the bikers got ready to leave. They weren't
laughing anymore; the adrenaline rush from getting caught was gone, and they were
finally realizing that they had to leave empty handed. Now they just seemed really pissed.
I noticed everyone seemed to be giving Johei a lot of space.
He stalked angrily among the bikes, packing up their disguises and tools. Everyone stood
there looking at him, but nobody moved, even though they all knew they had a matter of
minutes to hop on their bikes and take off before the cops came. I held my breath, not even
realizing I was doing it, and suddenly my lungs loosened involuntarily and my breath let out
in a loud whoosh!
I still don't know if Johei heard me or not, but as soon as my breath was released, he
straightened up, so quickly that it caught everyone by surprise and all, including me, gasped
in fear. He whirled around quickly to face his gang, and they all took one step back, away
from him. His teeth were barred and his eyes were narrowed, and to this day, I've never
seen anyone look more angry than he did just then. He walked up to his gang, looked each
one in the eye and then, for no obvious reason, turned quickly toward the girls and back-
handed one hard across the face, sending her to the ground. The other girl screamed in
terror and backed quickly away from him, but lost her balance and fell over backward on her
rear. She sweat profusely and looked up at Johei, who stood directly over her.
"You whores.  You were supposed to be keeping watch," he whispered through clenched
teeth. Without another word, he turned away from the girl and walked over to the bikes,
climbing onto his. He turned on the motor. "Come on!  We're leaving!"  he called over to his
boys. When everyone was settled on their bikes, ready to go, Johei swept his eyes over
them, doing a head count, and suddenly, his eyes widened and he looked back towards the
building. "Where's Yamagata?"
My friend was still standing next to the bush, as if he were keeping watch over me. We both
saw Johei climb off his bike and approach us, and the boy glanced quickly over to me, his
whispered warning still present in his eyes.  I pressed myself as far as I could against the
wall and tightened my muscles to keep from moving.
Johei looked down at my friend, a hard, stern expression on his face. "Yamagata, didn't I tell
you not to move? Come on, we have to go." And to my surprise, he took Yamagata's hand
gently in his own and gave him a slight tug, and they walked like that back to the bikes.
Yamagata glanced over his shoulder back at me, and I stared into his eyes as the two
walked further and further away. Johei looked down at his young companion and, following
his gaze, peered hard at the bush. Suddenly, the soft expression he had shown to Yamagata
turned back into the frightening one he had shown his gang, and he let go of the boy's hand
and charged over to me.
Before I knew what was happening, Johei had grabbed my jacket with one hand and lifted
me out of the bush, setting me roughly on the ground. My legs gave out from under me and I
collapsed. My heart pounded in my chest, and I didn't lift my head, in fear of seeing Johei's
monstrous figure in front of me.
"You little twerp! How long have you been there? How much did you see?!" He lifted my
head up and grabbed my arms, shaking me hard.  "How much did you see?!"  
I couldn't answer. My breath caught in my throat, and when I tried to let it out to answer him,
all that came out was a terrified sob. Once I started I couldn't stop, and my body shook
violently, tears streaking my cheeks, snot running from my nose like a fountain. I'd never
been so scared in my life, and I haven't been so scared since. It had only been fifteen
minutes since I had been safe in the playground, next to the see-saw, doodling with my
chalk, resting my head lazily against the cool blacktop. Now, I wished more than anything
that I had stayed there, or maybe hid behind the slide, wished that I wasn't such a curious
little bastard, or wished that I was a normal kid and didn't have the desire to be outside by
myself, to break the rules, to have freedom for just a few hours. If I just had stayed inside,
locked in my room, snuggled in my bed, none of this would be happening.
Johei sneered at me and threw me back on the ground. He glared down at me menacingly
and lifted his fist to strike me. "You're not gonna talk. You hear me? I'm gonna make sure
that you don't talk." He raised his arm higher. I shut my eyes tight and sniveled.
After a few seconds passed and I didn't feel the impact of his fist, I opened my eyes slowly
to see what was stopping him. Johei's fist was still raised, but its flight was stopped by
Yamagata, who held onto my attacker's wrist with both hands, pulling and tugging his arm
back with all the strength he had. "Johei, please, don't hurt him! He won't tell, I know he
won't tell! I trust him! Do this for me! He's my friend!" Yamagata pulled even harder on
Johei's arm. "Please!"
I saw the desperation on Yamagata's face, shifted my gaze and saw the anger waver on
Johei's. Slowly and somewhat reluctantly, he lowered his arm. Yamagata still held onto his
wrist, looking up at him with large pleading eyes. Johei turned to look down at him, and his
expression softened again when he saw the boy's face. He slid his wrist out of the tight
grip and let his hand rest lightly on Yamagata's hair. He smiled.
"Alright, alright, Yama-chan. If you trust him, I'll trust him, too." He turned his eyes back to me.
I sat frozen on the ground, too surprised to move. Johei frowned slightly. "Don't tell anyone
you saw us, ok, kid? I mean, you wouldn't want Yamagata here to get in trouble, right?" He
wrapped an arm around Yama's shoulders. Yamagata smiled at me.
Johei lifted his head and looked back over his shoulder to the rest of the gang. "Ok, guys,
we're really gonna have to floor it!  Come on, Yamagata." The two walked away, Johei
leading Yamagata with a hand on the young boy's back, like a big brother. Johei sat on his
bike, and it took Yamagata a little while to pull himself up, but Johei didn't offer any help;
he let Yama do it on his own. When Yamagata was nestled safely in the space between
Johei's legs, Johei turned on the motor and backed the bike up slightly, ready to speed
away.
It was now that I realized I had never had the chance to tell Yamagata my name. I ran
forward, nearly tripping over the jacket as it slid under my bare feet. "WAIT!!!" I shouted
desperately, but it was no use. The motors were too loud, and half the bikes had already
took off. Johei's bike was the last to leave. I stared after it until it hurt my eyes to focus on
the minuscule object near the horizon, and I stared at the spot where it had been long after
it was gone.
Mere seconds later, the police cars came. Now those orphanage pricks had enough
courage to run outside and check on things. I stood in a shadow away from the bright
blinking police lights, unnoticed. Despite the warmth of the night, I was freezing, and I
pulled the jacket tighter around me. My body screamed to get back inside, but my heart
kept me planted on the ground. I didn't want to go back in, not for anything. I knew if I did,
I would suffocate. The only thing I wanted to do was chase after those bikes, to hop on next
to Yamagata, and ride off into the night. To be free. Those bikers, who had once seemed
so scary to me, now seemed like the most beautiful treasure in the world. They were free!
That's what I wanted. Suddenly, one of the orphanage workers, a female teacher who was
in her early twenties, was next to me, putting her arm around my shoulders and holding me
close to her. She spoke softly in my ear. "Shotaro? Hon, are you ok? Did they hurt you?
What did you see? Shotaro? Can you hear me?" I didn't hear her. I didn't even know she
was there. My eyes were fixed on the horizon where freedom had disappeared, where the
sun was just starting to rise. I could still hear the roar of motorcycles, long since gone, in my
ears, and in my soul.