Author's Note:

My homage to Mikhail Arbatov. Because he is mine XD

I debated whether to put this on up or not but this one has been eating at me for a while now, the first chapters sat completed, and I got restless.
The more I think about it, the more I ship it, the more I'm unable to write anything else, because this ship has fucking sailed far far away, and it's never coming back, I'm not sorry for it.

I'm not expecting much response from this, I just hope, that in the end people will like it as much as I like it in my own head, even though I know it's not everyones' favorite pair.

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Juvenile delinquent was an overstatement, definitely.

First off, there were the vandalism charges, though he called it art. He was doing Tokyo a damn favor by spray-painting his work over the heinous eyesores, which others his age doodled on any available wall space.

To Akihito, it would be better to hand a can of paint to a toddler rather than the try hards that called themselves taggers.

His 'vandalism' though, people stopped in their cars to take photos of, vibrant murals and landscapes all done with a multiple colored cans of spray paint, it was a vast improvement to their shitty scribbles, yet he still got pinged for it every time, by the police or by the people who's scrawls he worked over.

That's where the next charges came in, brawling. He always happened to get into scraps with said taggers because they always knew it was him that 'defiled' (yeah fucking right) their colorful diarrhea, and street fights always led to the police being called, and then came the inevitable ride in a cop car back to the station for the night.

Sure, he would have gone to juvie a few times if his old man hadn't pulled some strings and got him off, and maybe his grades weren't that great.

And maybe he didn't care about any of the above except for the fact that council workers always got rid of his passion with plain white paint, only to be littered with shitty ass tagging all over again.

Still, given all that, delinquent was taking it a bit too far.

He should have felt bad now that he had the label, his family had an image to maintain after all, his old man was a district attorney, his mom, a doctor, they couldn't have their son ending up in the cells nearly every weekend, not out of concern for him of course, only out of the fact that it interrupted their dodgy as hell work hours which meant he never saw them at all.

The times his old man picked him up from the station were about the only times he saw his dad, the car ride home possibly the longest time they spent together now also, and only time he saw or spoke to his old lady was when she rung to inform him there was money for take out on the kitchen bench, or when she was patching him up hastily from 'yet another-when will you learn-fight'. Then she would look at him, give him some more money as if that would fix everything, and leave.

And so for that, Akihito didn't feel one single fucking ounce of remorse. They would do what they did, and he would keep on doing the same thing as well.

Akihito wasn't that dense, his parents didn't work on the legal side of the fence by any means. The 'businessman' that employed them was more than a yakuza for fucks sake, Asami or whatever the hell his name was, he'd heard that name in the cells enough to know that the reason Akihito was allowed to walk was because his old man worked for him.

The old lady seemed to be the preferred physician when it came to gun shot wounds and stabbings as well, so it didn't take long for Akihito as a youngster to put it all together when their front door was knocked down at ungodly hours of the morning all the time by men in suits demanding medical attention.

Mom had long since brought a building in Shinjuku to work out of, which is where she spent all her time the moment her son was old enough to make cup ramen.

His parents were well-respected members, cough crooks cough, of society, and their son wasn't exactly their pride and joy.

As he got older and moved into senior high school everything got exponentially worse, the only things he wasn't failing at school were Art, and English.

English because he wanted to get the fuck out of this trap called Tokyo, he wanted to see the globe and all the shades of the ocean and the different greens of open pastures. He wanted to marvel at different architecture and cultures, and immerse himself in the wonders of the world. He wanted to sit down with his easel and brushes, forget everything else, and put it all on canvas. English could help him do all that.

Next was art, because that's what he liked, no lived. That's what he wanted to do with his life. He loved color, or black and white, he loved photos and manipulating light, he loved it when the spark of inspiration took hold of him and allowed him to create something that was truly his.

Akihito cherished art, he loved that he could put something in his mind onto canvas for the world to see and interpret in their own way, everyone would get something out of it, even if it wasn't the same thing.

Art could incite feeling into people's day to day life, the city of Tokyo was like a big bees nest of factory workers and salary men, all day, every day, the same.

A nicely placed painting could make spending everyday in an office that much better, a photo could preserve precious memories for eternity, could capture a life changing moment, could tell unspoken truths, and record the passage of time like words couldn't.

An artist could draw or paint a different thing each time, change one thing in a photo, and it would never be the same no matter how hard you tried to replicate it, so yeah, of course he was drawn to art, who wouldn't be?!

When he declared that to his old man at the start of senior year, that's when the shit it the fan.

Art was not a career choice for someone in their family apparently. Blah blah blah. He should have been a doctor like his mother, or a gone into law like his father. Expectations this, expectations that.

Get fucked, expectations!

According to his dad, it was a choice to be hippy and live in poverty for the rest of his life.

Well, that sounded pretty damn good to Akihito, because to him it translated to: live freely doing whatever the fuck he wanted, not held back by a mortgage or a monotonous everyday job.

The more they tried tell him his study path was pointless, the more they disregarded what he actually wanted and shoved brochures for top universities at him, the more angry he became, the more he tried to vent with spray cans and fights, the more he caused trouble for his parents, because it made them look bad, and the cycle repeated, growing in toxicity each time.

The street clashes got vicious as he grew older, broken bones and stitches went with the police bailouts, therapy visits and pent up frustrations.

In the end, he started physically fighting with his dad each time he was brought home and locked in his room. Of course the police looked the other way, despite the concerned looks his neighbors gave him on his way to school every morning after a big punch up, no doubt they'd called authorities, to no avail. He didn't give a toss about that either, it's not like he couldn't give as good as he got.

After one particular fistfight, coupled with yelling enough for the police to actually come to their high-class street and check, they agreed to a compromise.

The young blonde was made to promise to pass all his senior subjects including math, (which Akihito thought would be impossible and his father was just setting him up to fail).

He still had to go to university, his old man wasn't giving in on that, and most of all, he had to keep out of trouble with police the entire last year he lived in their house, and also for the duration of his university studies.

His old man was definitely setting him up to fail, he couldn't go two weeks without some punk picking a fight with him, it's not like he wanted to fight, the trolls just came to him automatically, so how was he going to go four fucking years!

The deal was though, that if Akihito passed his high school exams, and behaved for the first year, he could study the art major he wanted to, and his parents would pay for it all.

Ok, that was a pretty sweet deal, he thought maybe it would be worth a try.

His dad's four-year compromise came into play then, if his son did manage to stick it out for the entire four years, stay out of their hair, and graduate with honors, then Akihito would be given an open plane ticket, an up to date pass port, and an all expenses paid trip around the world.

Ok. He was definitely going to fucking do it.