Life became so boring once Akira was “tamed”. It was dull compared to everything that Akira once knew. His life was filled with violence, but now hedonism and pleasure. Even the pains that he once abhorred could be pleasurable to him. He was broken completely and rebuilt to be nothing more than a toy for a man that he once hated more than anything. He was no long the same man that he was, internally or externally; His once muscular and toned frame now slender and graceful, floating, but appearing as if he would be knocked over by a breeze. His silver hair now past his chin, almost touching his collarbones. If past Akira witnessed what he would become, he would’ve chosen a much different path. Perhaps even choosing life in prison as opposed to turning into a dictator’s plaything. Being forced to submit was past Akira’s nightmare, although now he almost found a kind of refuge in it. Shiki always took care of him, he wanted for nothing. Life was now good.

He knew how privileged he was, and yet made his decision to run off anyways. It’s not that he was trying to get away from his new life, far from that. Akira craved excitement, craved the attention that Shiki gave him for misbehaving, craved the punishment that Shiki would certainly dole out. Akira was always reminiscing on the days when he was kept in that dingey old apartment Shiki stayed in. He remembered trying to fight back, an unwinnable battle even then, and Shiki taking what he wanted from him, or torturing him to bring himself pleasure. Shiki would still hurt him now, but it was not near as cruelly sadistic as it once was. Akira just wanted to see if he would revert to his old ways, to see if he would chase him like he used to.

Escaping was easy. All Akira had to do was seduce a guard, fuck him, and then steal his uniform. The guard knew that Shiki would kill him for sleeping with his toy but fucked Akira anyways. That guard was probably dead, maybe even tortured for letting Akira escape. The guard’s uniform was slightly too large for his petite frame, but the cap fit well enough to obscure his face, and he could pull his overgrown hair up into it to further anonymise himself. If someone looked close enough they would definitely see who he was, but it was doubtful that anyone would come up and stop him. Shiki wouldn’t allow them to touch him, not even to stop him from leaving. He was untouchable for anyone aside from his owner.

The air outside was cool. It had to have been the middle of autumn. The seasons blurred together for Akira, he hadn’t been outside for very long since Shiki had 'claimed' him

That seemed like so long ago. Akira really didn’t know how much time had passed since Shiki had consumed pure line, and took on the image of Nicole in pure mockery of him. He remembered seeing that strange man’s blood stream down from Shiki’s slim lips. He was so scared that he had to shut his eyes. Screams flooded his memories as the executioners met their well deserved ends, and he thought of how Arbitro begged for his own life. Akira always wondered what became of Arbitro’s “dog”, but if he died it was for the better. That boy would have no purpose without Arbitro. A chill ran down Akira’s spine, and he was glad that he was not made into a “dog” or used by that man for some other sick purpose. Although, in a way he was a dog, yet he had his eyes, his voice, and some autonomy. He wondered if Shiki would prefer him that way, but he figured not. He would have already blinded him if that was the case. Shiki loved the process of taming him, how he would fight back. So being an utterly submissive dog for him probably wouldn’t get his master off near as much.

Akira walked for what seemed like ages, he had no concept of distance anymore. He couldn’t tell you if he walked five kilometers or fifteen. Maybe fifty. All he knew was that he didn’t see any trace of Shiki’s rule around him, but he figured he was still in his territory. Shiki had already gained the upper hand in the war, so he more than likely had the majority of Japan under his control. Akira almost felt bad distracting Shiki from his conquest, but if Shiki came to find him it was his decision. Akira could never force him to come and take him back. He wanted him to, but he didn’t leave any sort of note. Maybe Shiki would think he was kidnapped by an enemy or by a subordinate that had a plan for a coup. Likely Shiki would assume the truth, that Akira ran.

His legs started to ache. He forgot that he didn’t have the muscles that he once did. He can’t walk the long distances he used to be able to, or run the way he used to. Definitely cannot fight like he once could, but he could still put up a hell of one. He used to reign supreme in his Bl@ster circuit after all. He missed Bl@ster sometimes. Akira would often blame Bl@ster for his predicament, but Ema would have pressed falsified charges onto him regardless of if he participated or not.

Akira decided to take a break, maybe stay here to let Shiki catch up. He walked over to a nearby tree and leaned himself back against it and slid down, ending in a seated position. He wanted to close his eyes and sleep, but he still had enough sense in him to know the danger of doing so. He remembered life before Toshima, and life in Toshima, and in neither life would it be safe to sleep out in the open where anyone could find you and assault you. He saw many instances of getting all too comfortable in Toshima, or losing to someone, and he had no still had no interest in that. The first few times Shiki forced himself on Akira he already hated, although now he had changed his feelings on what was done to him, but at the time it was absolutely degrading.

He looked around, seeing the ruin left behind from the bombing and destruction from both the third division and from Shiki’s conquest. He almost thought that he might have been in a part of what was once Toshima, but it was far too barren to be able to discern where, and even if he was it wouldn’t matter. Igura was over, and Toshima had no purpose but to be used as a pawn to take over the rest of Japan under Shiki’s rule.