Summary:

"Akechi," he whispered, "your name is Akechi. You are seventeen, you've visited the cognitive world countless times. You aren't him anymore. You have a goal, and a persona, and you are not helpless.”
He leaned back away from his reflection, studying the myriad of pale scars adorning his chest and arms. This was the body of a fighter, a winner. He was no longer the pitiful homeless boy he had been two years ago. He had a job, a life, and a mission.