"Absolutely not."

"You can't expect me to just sit here and do NOTHING!"

"I can assure you we want him back as much as you do, it's simply not safe for either of you. We're still in the early phases, we haven't had a successful trial and are nowhere near ready for human subjects."

"Hey, Akatane-"

"I don't care! You know he'd go if it was one of us!"

"I'm sorry, even if it was safe for you to go, there's the potential that it could accelerate the already short window we have."

"Akatane?"

"You can't- w-we can't- it's my- I can't just leave him like that!"

A door slams shut from somewhere nearby, and the echoing of footsteps fades away down an unseen corridor.

"Akatane!" Akatane Mikumo jumps at the sound of his name, shaking his head and wiping his glassy eyes as he turns to find his coworker, Ito Reo, watching him curiously.

"Huh?" Is all he can manage, the voices that were not his own still ringing in his ears.

Ito chuckles a little at Akatane's wide-eyed bewilderment, "really in your own head today, working on that book of yours?"

Akatane groans as he shoves the heavy box of magazines to the right, wondering for a moment how it ended up in the canned vegetables aisle. "Yeah, yeah… something like that."

"Better snap out of it, Hirose is out for blood."

"Heh, when isn't he," Akatane responds with a huff and roll of his eyes as he turns back to the garbanzo beans he had been stocking before the voices began and demanded his full attention.

Ito's laugh is big and boisterous as he smacks Akatane's shoulder. It would've thrown him off-balance had he not been very aware of his co-worker's often aggressive enthusiasm. "Isn't that the truth!"

The hand on his shoulder burns and he can feel himself beginning to shake, the physical contact is too much and he knows it. "Um, Ito? Did you need something from me?"

"Oh yeah!" He says, releasing Akatane and raising his hand in the air in what appears to be excitement. Akatane does his best to stifle his sigh of relief with a yawn. "Did you hear about the fires this morning, man? Pretty gnarly stuff. The entire northeast corner of the prefecture is on fire. Still going, too. Last I checked."

Having been at work since midnight, Akatane had not. "Wha-what?" First there were the blackouts last month with no apparent cause, just entire blocks going dark and nothing the electricity companies did could bring the power back. Now fire? Could it possibly be related? The blackouts had started in the same area…

"Akatane!" Ito calls, exasperation evident in his tone, "you're doing it again."

"O- oh! Sorry Ito! It's just so strange. Do they know what happened?"

"News says they suspect arson, but they can't get in to see where the fire started. Flames are too hot, they're focusing on rescue and containment right now."

Something is gnawing at the corner of Akatane's brain, like answers he can't recall. His thumb pulls at his bottom lip as the itch grows and Ito is still talking.

"That's awful," Akatane interjects, "I hope everyone is okay."

"Yeah, they haven't released any numbers or names yet. So I'm hopeful."

Akatane doesn't have a response, already losing himself to the noise in his head. Initially, scientists chalked the blackouts up to electrical storms, but buildings keep going down and they haven't found any evidence to support the theory. Hypothetically, the fires could have come from the same source, but again, the storms are either somehow weak enough to go undetected and also strong enough to cause massive permanent power outages across the city, or it's something else. Either way, it feels a little bit like the sky is falling.

Something else too: when Akatane does manage to sleep, he dreams of flames.

Ito eventually wanders off to find someone else to discuss impending doom with, unperturbed by Akatane's sudden silence. He'd long ago accepted his coworker's ability to disappear into his own head at a moment's notice. There are plenty of other people around to talk to and Akatane doesn't notice him leave.

It's his toes colliding with what feels like a brick on the floor that knocks Akatane from his thoughts and back into the present. He yelps and leaps, grabbing for his left foot, the big toe of which aches painfully from its collision. With a grumble, he looks down in search of the culprit. Oh right, the magazines. His back cracks a little as he bends over to grab the box, securing it in his arms before checking his watch.

Seven, one more hour before his shift ends and he can head to his first class. With a sigh, he lugs the heavy box to the magazine display and begins to unpack it.

He's picking up the last of the Marie Claire's when his eye catches on the cover of the Men's Journal underneath it which seems to change before his eyes. It's Chris Evans in his Captain America costume, but it's somehow also not Chris Evans. The suit colors are correct, but the pattern is wrong. His blonde hair is longer, ending at the nape of his neck, two strands in the front defying gravity and standing on end, and his eyes are black? Or maybe the picture was just taken in poor lighting. His smile is wide and blinding, more wide and more blinding than any picture Akatane has seen of the man, though he's beginning to think it might really not be Chris Evans after all. Akatane stares and stares, his eyebrows knitting together as he rubs his right eye, attempting to (failing at) convincing himself that he's just seeing things. Man, he really needs to get some sleep.

Still, that itch in his brain grows as he stares at the image. He glances at the covers that had been underneath it, but nothing seems off about those. Just this one. He folds the magazine and shoves it into his apron pocket. He'll worry about it later.

"Akatane!" The harsh voice of his manager, Hirose, catches his attention and he looks up to find the man's harsh hazel eyes glaring at him.

"Ye-yes?" Akatane says as he does his best not to cower under his boss' dominating gaze.

"Seki called out for her shift tonight and I'm down a cashier. I'll need you to come back for second shift."

The piles of neglected homework and half-finished ideas that are currently taking up the entirety of his kitchen table beg him to say no, but Akatane nods instead. He could use the money, and a second shift means overtime he can't refuse.

"Good, be back by 1800, you're in the bucket tonight!" With that, Hirose spins on his heels and disappears before Akatane has a chance to respond.

Not thirty seconds later, the alarm on his watch sounds, signaling the end of his shift. With a relieved exhale, he dusts his hands off on his apron, picks up the now half-empty box of magazines, and heads to the back.

"This is Takahasi Keiko reporting to you from the Channel Two 'copter where I have a direct line of sight to the fires that began at approximately three this morning and have shown no signs of going out, despite responders efforts. Fortunately, there have been no casualties reported. We will be bringing you updates every hour, so stay tuned for further information. Back to you, Nakao."

Brows furrowed, Akatane removes his headphones and pulls his apron over his head. For once, he had managed to stay awake through all of his classes, but his mind was too preoccupied with his very strange morning to absorb any of the information presented to him.

When he had gone back to purchase the magazine, the man who was not Chris Evans was no longer there, instead it was the same picture of actual Chris Evans that had been on the rest of the Men's Journals. Deciding he definitely needed to get some sleep, he returned it to the rack before heading to school.

Still, it didn't stop the conversation he had heard from playing on repeat, voices he didn't know speaking urgently about... someone. Sure, he could call it his overactive imagination, he's a writer for a reason, but something about the voices had prodded at the ever-growing itch and no matter what he tries he can't get them to quiet. Or talk about anything else for that matter.

Then there are the fires. Some scientist had drawn up a graph and posted it online, citing the path the blackouts had taken and the obvious correlation they had to the random fires, positing that the two were not only related but that one may have catalyzed the other and the next fires were likely to start in the southwest corner of the prefecture. Just as Akatane had guessed.

(The thought doesn't bring him comfort though, and when he closes his eyes orange and yellow dances behind the lids, the flames that haunt his dreams and keep him awake at night have filtered into reality and he isn't sure what to think of that.)

Before he knew it, his last class was ending and he had just enough time to grab a quick bite and get started on his mid-term before his shift began.

He only managed the eating part, too lost in his head to realize that time was moving ahead without him, and, when he did remember to look at the clock, he had barely fifteen minutes to get to work. Lucky for him, he had decided to eat at a cafe close enough for him to make it. Kind of. So,Akatane shoved his things into his bag and his earbuds into place before bolting out the door.

Friday nights are generally slow, save the usual 1800 weekday rush that lasts for a couple of hours. Working people filling the pantry so that they can relax over the weekend. After 2000 the lines dwindle down to practically nothing. Most people out enjoying their Friday night or holed up in their homes after a long week.

If Akatane had the choice, he would never work cashier shifts, especially on a Friday. Sure, it's alright when the lines are so long they extend halfway down the freezer aisles and don't give him the opportunity to think, let alone make small talk. He can put his head down and get people out as quick as possible. Once the lines are gone though, he's left trapped in the bucket with nothing to do but twiddle his thumbs and yawn. And, of course, obsess over whatever happened to be occupying his attention that day.

It's 2214 and Akatane hasn't seen a customer since that kid came in without an ID and tried to buy a bottle of sake. He rubs his temples and does his best to focus on anything other than the apparent apocalypse or the stranger's voices in his head. His coworkers, Okane and Endo, are gossiping at the two registers behind him and he lets their words filter in, hopes they can drown out the cacophony.

"... he's so cute! I wonder who he'll choose."

"Whoever it is gets dibs, obviously. We'll leave the decision up to him."

"No fair! They always choose you!"

"Ssh here he comes…"

Akatane stifles a smile as he listens to the two bicker over what is apparently a very handsome stranger. He's so busy wondering who it is this time that he doesn't see the customer walk up to his register.

He does, however, hear their sharp inhale and the word "Deku," escaping their lips on the exhale.

Akatane grimaces at the word, a name he hasn't heard since middle school and one he had worked hard to forget.

"That's very rud-." His throat catches when he looks up at the stranger. He knows that somewhere behind him Okane and Endo are glaring daggers into his back, but he doesn't pay them much mind. The man in front of him is tall, or so it seems compared to Akatane's own (admittedly short) stature, and his shoulder-length, tawny hair is parted so that most of it hangs over his left eye, which is the same deep brown shade as his right. Though Akatane would agree that his coworkers are right, the man is very good looking, his appearance isn't what catches Akatane's attention.

He sees recognition in those eyes and the itch turns to an ache. The pounding in his head imploring him to remember a face he's never seen. They stand there, frozen and staring, until an awkward cough sounds from somewhere behind Akatane and he remembers that he does, in fact, have a job to do.

The man shakes his head a little and, when he opens his mouth to speak, an alarm rings in the back of Akatane's mind and his face pales, his vision swimming at the strange familiarity of a voice he doesn't know, but somehow does.

"Sorry, I thought you were someone else."

For the sake of his paycheck, Akatane swallows down his discomfort at the sense of familiarity he feels when he looks at the stranger, and, before he can stop himself, "not a very nice thing to call your friend."

The small grin on the man's face looks sad, it doesn't really meet his eyes and Akatane finds himself wanting to take his words back. "I said the same thing, but he asked us to. Said having friends use it would change its meaning."

"Did it?" Akatane's not sure why he asks, it's an auto-response, anything to wipe the despair from the man's face. Maybe something to make him feel better about his own relationship with the cruel nickname.

For a moment, the man is somewhere else, his eyes far away as a smile graces his face and Akatane can't look away. "Y'know…" he says, almost reverent, "it really did."

Akatane isn't one for smiling, hasn't really, except when his job requires it. Not since his mother died three years ago and left him with no living relatives and mountains of debt he didn't know they were in. It's a foreign feeling then, as the man speaks and his lips pull taught of their own accord, rivaling that of not Chris Evans.

"I'm glad, then."

It doesn't seem strange when the man's eyes shine with unshed tears, a hint of hope peeking out from the corners.

Another cough and Akatane is suddenly aware that he is still working. With more effort than he'd like to admit, he pulls his gaze away from the man's, whose own seems to be begging him to satiate the itch-turned-ache and just remember already. The spell breaks the moment he looks away and Akatane is left feeling awkward and discomfited by the man's presence as he rings his groceries through.

They don't speak again until the man turns to leave. Akatane wishing him a kind farewell while staring just past the man's shoulder, at the magazine rack he had stocked just that morning, anywhere but his face.

"I'm Koigakubo Kisho," the man surprises Akatane by offering his name and he can feel his eyes on him, waiting. On a normal day, with a normal customer, Akatane would've said "nice to meet you" and moved on, but he's looking into the stranger's eyes before he can stop himself, his own name tearing itself from his lips unbidden.

"Akatane Mikumo."

The man nods, his lips set in a straight line and determination hidden in blank pupils. "See you around, Akatane."

It's a promise that sparks an unfamiliar (impossible, unnecessary) feeling in his chest and he doesn't have a chance to respond, not that he has anything to say anyway, before the man takes the bags Akatane doesn't remember packing and heads out the door.

He stares after him. There are white spots in his vision from the ache in his head, but he doesn't notice, too focused on the flickering of hope that's fighting to stay lit.

"Akatane, are you alright?" It's Endo that breaks the silence and Akatane turns to look back at her, his response sitting trapped on his tongue. "You're crying, do you need to take a break?"

Akatane can hardly hear her through the din. He brings his hands to his cheeks and, sure enough, they are wet.

When he dreams that night, there is a boy in the flames that no longer burn.

AN: Thanks for reading! Sooo what'd you think? Questions? Comments?