There is no chance, no destiny, no fate, that can shift and bind ones tainted heart, lusting for desire, not even the leader of the infamous Phantom Thieves group, Akira Kurusu. Having been through so much trauma in the past and changing countless h...
What stood in front of them was someone they didn't expect to arise. Long black hair complimenting the pale smooth skin of the figure. Luscious red lips matching the slightly revealing night gown red dress, exaggerating its curves.
It looked identical to the silhouette of Akira's mother.
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Horror was the only word that could explain the situation that the Phantom Thieves had found themselves in. Shadow Akira was nowhere to be seen within the deeply poorly lit room, sustaining a tensed atmosphere. Staying close to one another, the Phantom Thieves watched as the figure swayed left in right as if drunk and unable to maintain their balance, yet their eyes never left the group of thieves in front of them.
Akira's mother escaped a chuckle, "I never really liked Akira, nor did I really love that sorry excuse of a husband..." she began, "It's a pain really, I was the one who had to do everything. Clean, wash the clothes, take care of the house and work. I never got to see my son." Her eyes trailed towards the far left of the room, the painting that Ryuji had curiously touched was blank, a painting only covered in pitch black. Although, what thought to be blank canvas was nothing more than an illusion as the painting morphed, shifted into another painting, another scenario.
The Phantom Thieves turned their attention to the scenario that was displayed in front of them, Young Akira was seated at the far right, kneeled down beside his father happily, their faces presenting a smile of joy. Bright colours accompanied the background as the house that they were shown previously, looked more of a normal and peaceful environment to live in. 'Was this Akira's home?' The Phantom Thieves thought in unison. His father and himself were placed by an oak table, which looked rather decayed by the years that the wood had been exposed to its surroundings.
Young Akira watched happily as his father taught him the make-shifting of woodwork, looking as if he was directing his hands to the tools that surrounded the both of them. However, while the far right of the panting had the warm colours of a palette, the left side had a more dramatic and suspenseful emotion to it. Akira's mother was knelt down on the floor, piles of papers, clothes, liquor bottles scattered endless around her figure. Grey and mainly black, shaded the background behind her as her sorrowful face exaggerated the struggle of a mother as her hair stuck out, looking unpresentable.
"That man always took my son away from me. Never did I fully have the chance to experience the joy with my Akira.." She sighed heavily, "Now as time passed, I wish both of them never existed. My life is ruined because of them. It's all their fault. All of this pain that I fell is because of them."
Akira's mother narrowed her attention to the huddle Phantom Thieves, cautiously defending themselves for the inevitable.
"I wish I had never met that man. Akira wouldn't have existed otherwise."
Ryuji could feel the disgust leave his face as he watched the poor role model of Akira's mother speak the words that made his blood boil. It wasn't just Ryuji that felt that way, Ann and even Futaba wished to get rid of this shadow that had manifest in front of them. It made them sick with disgust and light headed with anger, constant emotions seeped through their heads as they ready themselves to destroy the shadow of Akira's mother. Black mirrored the walls around them, a tint shifting through a shade of monochrome, the Phantom Thieves felt the ground shake beneath them, an ocean of black seeming displaying the material of ink, overlapped their feet.
