A silver coin.

(Originally written by Guyman at Writing.com)

Akechi spent the next day moping in his apartment. He turned the TV on to his appearances on television to cheer him up, but the no avail. He pulled out the silver coin the old man gave him, going over yesterday in his head. He flipped it once or twice, the old man's words echoing in his head: "Heroes like you."

The Knight tried to comfort him, uncharacteristically. 'It's just a bunch of stepping stones, all for the old man to see how far he's fallen. The ends justify the means.' Akechi rallied himself, sitting up straighter. That's right. It'll all be for good in the end. They'd thank me if they knew.

But then, the TV he had absentmindedly turned on was showing a familiar program: His mid-june interview

The Prince spoke on screen. "I believe the Phantom Thieves should be tried in a court of law. Madarame did commit an unforgivable crime, but what the Thieves did is no different. They're taking the law into their own hands — an act far from justice."

Akechi watched the program unfold with wide eyes, the coin slipping from his grasp and rolling onto the floor. Suddenly, he let out a guttural cry and let the remote fly at the hapless screen — breaking it beyond repair.

He raged, "WHAT DO YOU KNOW? You're just some brat playing at being detective, just to get a pat on the back! And those goddamn thieves think they're better than ME? Just because they have their stupid little group and eachoth-." His voice faltered, and he broke into tears.

He collapsed to the floor, amidst the shards of broken glass and the discarded coin, sobbing.

"I j-just wanna _______." He cried out, his first bit of honesty in over four years.