"...t-teach them all a lesson!"

(Originally written by Guyman at Writing.com)

Akechi sobbed out his wish, prostrate on the floor. The coin was kind enough to grant it. It shone bright enough to stop his weeping, bright enough to match the sun outside, bright enough to send everything into darkness in its absence.

Everything that surrounded him was nothing. There was no point of reference, no way to get your bearings, simply an absence. There was nothing to see, touch, smell, hear. All that there was was an insurmountable feeling of pressure. No actual substance to press down on you, but the anechoic nothing there to smother all sense. He tried to breathe, but no air moved. It remained still. He remained still. All was still.

But as rapidly as the void had materialized, so did something else. The color was a welcome change from nothing at all, and Akechi greedily drank it all in. The room was small, but emanated a sense of coziness, not claustrophobia. The walls, ceiling, and floor were all made of a plush blue material. And oddest of all, a short squat man with a long hooked nose sat in the center. Akechi recognized the man almost immediately and went to shout — but nothing came out.

Igor gave a start. "Oh!" The voice that came out was certainly not the deep, unsettling rumble that Akechi was used to, but was a reedy almost-whisper that held a grandfatherly tone to it. Igor cleared his throat. "Pardon me, I haven't much for visitors ever since my rival proved a most poor sport." He chuckled to himself, before looking left and right, as if for someone. "I am sure that he shall meet the same fate as countless others have before him, but for now, we must do with minimal accouterments. Now, what brings you to this room?" He did not wait for a response but merely squinted his eyes for a second, before widening them in surprise. "Oh my. The pawn of my rival, pulled across time and space by..." He rubbed his chin in contemplation. "A third party, shall we say. But we must not neglect your own dissatisfaction that led you down this twisted path. A tragedy indeed..." He trailed off.

Akechi fumed in the absent space where he maybe-resided. Igor raised a conciliatory hand. "I do not mean to assume your past nor struggles, Guest, I merely was making my own observations. But I do have something to offer you. It is a chance to walk a new path, paved by your own choices, not that of powers that conspire to toss you aside like a broken plaything. Would you accept this deal, Guest?"

Goro raised the space where his eyebrows might occupy. Did he deserve a second chance? Probably not, he had killed more people than anyone else in Shido's twisted conspiracy — something about this room promoted self-honesty, apparently. 'But that wasn't the question, was it?' Akechi mused. He may not deserve it, but he sure as hell wanted it, and that would be good enough for now. He nodded his not-head, at which Igor's grin grew slightly wider for a second. "Lovely. Even though it may interfere with the game between my rival and myself, I am truly honored to place another piece on the board. I am afraid that this may be the last meeting you have with me or my ilk. You may not be a Wild Card anymore, but you are certainly still a player."

Igor conjured a card, one with an image of an angel pouring water, and held it in his hand. As swiftly as he materialized it, he crushed it in his hand, and wafted the dust towards the Akechi-space. And then everything went black, save that of Igor's final statement to him.

~You truly were a remarkable guest.~

The darkness dissipated much faster than it did beforehand, leaving Akechi gasping. He woke up a bed, covered with a thick comforter. His eyes flicked left to right, his heart beating like a hammer. The room was certainly different, its walls smaller than before, and the floor generally disheveled. It seemed to be a studio apartment, a massive downgrade from his previous penthouse. 'It doesn't matter as long as it's different.' He repeated over and over again in his head. His hope spiked when he saw a tearaway calendar on the far wall. He needed to see if it wasn't too late, if Shido wasn't. His scramble to the wall was abruptly stopped when all of his weight redistributed itself incredibly oddly. In short, he fell flat on his ass. Which was a lot softer than normal. And the liquid sloshing on his chest was weird too. His mad rush for the wall was exchanged for a mad rush to the bathroom.

Akechi poked and prodded in mounting horror at various parts. His lips were larger, his eyelashes longer, his hair darker and silky smooth. Everything that wasn't a complete change was just different enough to be disconcerting. Even moving was weird. Everything just had a new softness to it that wasn't there before. He didn't even want to look at his chest, which was well enough concealed by a large baggy t-shirt, used as makeshift pajamas. He froze. How did he know that? Was he losing his mind? Akechi took a deep breath in, and tried to collect himself. He was Goro Akechi, sent back (Sadayo Kawakami) in time by some weird — there it was again!

He prodded at the new voice in the back of his head — mostly used to balancing the Prince and the Knight, this type of one was new. It didn't provide 'commentary', like the always-angry Knight, but it also wasn't some other mask to wear, like the Prince was. What he quickly found out about it (to his great relief) was that it wasn't some angry parasite trying to subsume him. It was like a teacher, there to guide him through the new unfamiliar processes of his new life. With a bit of prodding and experimenting, he found out who he was in this brave new world.

You're a teacher at Shujin Academy. You're a Japanese teacher, and you try to stay away from Kamoshida, because... The voice faded into static at this point, at couldn't be pressed any more. You work a part time job to pay the bills, and you CANNOT get close to your students. Not again. No further questioning could press this point either.

But more importantly than some minor troubles, Akechi learned something vital. It was April 9th, and he would have to sit in on the orientation of a transfer student tomorrow. If he pressed deeper, the voice gave him lesson plan upon lesson plan, the flood of which nearly overwhelmed him.

What he also found out was that the voice could also serve as a handy autopilot for the things he absolutely had no idea to do. If he just kept his head up and let his mind go blank, he could have the voice put on a bra without having to look at the new globes on his chest, take a shower without him having to actually_ touch _all of his... 'new parts'. It could even get dressed without his input! All in all, it was a small favor he was incredibly thankful for. 'Thank God I don't have to deal with all of this shit at once.'

But the shit he did have to deal with was immediate as it was important.