Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/11216559.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Persona_5
  Relationship:
      Akechi_Goro/Kurusu_Akira
  Character:
      Kurusu_Akira, Persona_5_Protagonist, Akechi_Goro, Phantom_Thieves_of
      Hearts
  Additional Tags:
      Alternate_Universe_-_Canon_Divergence, Fix-It, Angst_with_a_Happy_Ending,
      First_Time, Sexual_Content, Hurt/Comfort
  Stats:
      Published: 2017-06-16 Completed: 2017-08-29 Chapters: 11/11 Words: 47886
****** Guilty Eyes ******
by SomewhereFlying
Summary
     Despite everything, Akira Kurusu cannot keep himself from meeting
     with Goro Akechi, even if he has to do it behind the Thieves' backs.
     On paper, their fates are destined to oppose each other... but Akira
     has no intention of betraying his team OR of abandoning Akechi. When
     you come to love so many people, you grow compelled to fight for
     them, despite all odds.
     A look at the events of the game if only Akira had reached out to
     Akechi, just a bit more, in spite of the Phantom Thieves.
Notes
     You know it, you love it, it's another fix-it fic to give Akechi some
     redemption and to indulge my poor shipper's heart! It's not the most
     original idea in the world, but I hope you enjoy my interpretation
     nonetheless.
     Spoilers for the 7th dungeon, through November 21st, and implied
     spoilers for endgame content. Explicit rating will apply for later
     chapters.
***** July *****
“Ugh, that guy again,” Ryuji groaned. “Hey Boss, can we change the channel?”
“Aren’t you supposed to be studying? Stop watching the TV,” Sojiro chastised
Ryuji from across the room. Ryuji’s face fell, and Akira lowered his head to
his textbook so Ryuji couldn’t see his smirk.
It was a muggy, rainy Sunday, and Sojiro was reluctantly allowing Akira and the
others to take refuge inside Leblanc. They were half-heartedly pretending to
study for finals, but the humidity made Akira lazy and no one else had the
drive to keep the group on-task. So instead Akira was staring out into space,
idly doodling on a piece of scrap paper, while beside him Ryuji was glaring at
the TV, arms crossed and legs splayed out into the aisle.
Across the table, Ann was lounging sideways in her booth seat, one leg over the
other, with a math book propped up in her lap. Morgana was half asleep on top
of a backpack down below the table – Boss forbade him from sitting on the
tables when the café was open. “C’mon Ryuji,” Ann said, without bothering to
look up from her book, “It’s not even that loud. Just tune it out.”
“Well it’s not like I can help it, it’s right in fronta me!” Ryuji continued,
gesturing across the room. Then, hit with a sudden flash of inspiration, he
sprung to his feet and said, “Hey Mona, swap places with me so I don’t gotta
look at the TV.”
Before Morgana had a chance to react, Ryuji scooped up the backpack – Mona and
all – and plopped it down on the booth seat beside Akira.
“H-hey you can’t just pick someone up without their permission!” Morgana
yelped.
Ryuji seemed largely unconcerned. “Anyway,” he continued, settling himself in
his new seat beside Ann, “I just can’t believe he’s still treatin’ us like
criminals, even after Kaneshiro turned himself in and everything.”
“Actually, I kinda respect him a little more now,” Ann said. Before anyone
could even question her, she continued: “Y’know, since most other Phantom
Thieves detractors totally flipped their opinion after Kaneshiro’s confession.
So the fact that he’s still sticking to his guns is kinda, I don’t know…
admirable?”
Ryuji huffed in disagreement, but Akira nodded. The sudden, positive change in
the Thieves’ popularity was surprising, to say the least. People who hadn’t
even acknowledged the Phantom Thieves were suddenly coming out of the woodwork
to praise them for Kaneshiro’s confession. Akira thought that may have had
something to do with it – Kaneshiro. It was a lot harder to condemn the Thieves
for targeting a mob boss than for targeting a small-town celebrity or an aging
artist.
Yet, Goro Akechi continued to do just that. Well, not that he condemned the
Thieves for targeting Kaneshiro per se, but he continued to insist they were
vigilantes who were breaking the law. It was not making him a popular person.
But Akechi spoke with such conviction that Akira couldn’t help but admire him.
In that regard, Akira liked to watch Akechi on TV. He was clearly reserved,
perhaps even shy, considering how carefully he conducted himself while on air.
He looked different in person; on screen, he was perfectly still, professional,
and unthreatening – “charming,” as the hosts would call him. His jacket was
perfectly crisp, his tie was straight, he was perfectly manicured in every way.
But at the same time, he seemed almost lifeless, like a doll, something to be
put on display.
It reminded Akira of their meeting at the train station yesterday, how Akechi’s
hair had been fluffed by the wind, how his cheeks were slightly flushed from
the heat, how he tried to stifle his grin when Akira said something that amused
him. Back on screen, Akechi was smiling non-stop, but the joy didn’t seem to
quite reach his eyes. He was just doing his job, and it just happened that his
job involved seeming pleasantly relatable. He looked so much more alive in
person…
“Akira?”
Ann’s voice broke him out of his reverie. “Hmm?”
Ann frowned. “You were staring at the TV. Did something bother you?”
Akira paused, glancing back at the TV. “I was thinking about what it would be
like to be interviewed,” he said after a moment. This was, at least, not a
complete lie.
“Hell yeah!” Ryuji said, twisting his head around to get another glance at the
TV. He had a big, toothy grin on his face. “It sucks we gotta keep our
identities secret. I’d love to go on TV and really shut those guys up.”
“I’ve been interviewed a couple of times,” Ann said. “For modeling, you know.
The producers always have some idea about what they want you to say before they
even meet you. It almost doesn’t matter what you actually think. It’s just
another article to them.”
“Lady Ann is right,” Morgana piped up from beside Akira. “Even if we were able
to give an interview as the Phantom Thieves, if we tried to say something they
didn’t like, they wouldn’t even air the interview.”
“Oh yeah? Huh.” Ryuji frowned. He was fiddling with a pencil, twisting it
between his fingers. “That’s such bull, then,” he sighed, eventually tossing
his pencil back down on the table. “I dunno. I just want people to respect us,
y’know? I want people to appreciate us.”
“I feel the same way…” Ann said, and although she trailed off, it was clear
something was weighing on her mind. She looked from Ryuji to Akira and then
asked, “But I kinda feel like I shouldn’t. You know?”
“Huh? Why not?” Ryuji asked. Akira nodded at Ryuji and looked curiously at Ann.
“Well, I mean…” Ann waved her hand, trying to find the words. “We’re trying to
reform society, right? So should we really be doing it for reasons like praise?
That’s… a little selfish right?”
The group fell silent for a moment.
“Eh, whatever,” Ryuji said at last, shrugging. “There’s nothin’ wrong with
wantin’ hard work to be acknowledged. It’s not like we’re just doin’ this to
make ourselves feel good. As long as we don’t compromise on the important
stuff, who cares if we’re doin’ it for the glory, too?”
Morgana appeared from under the table, propping his front paws up on the table.
“Wow Ryuji, that was actually pretty insightful! I’m impressed,” he said.
Ryuji’s face contorted. “Whatdaya mean “actually”?! I have plenty of insight!”
Morgana stuck his tongue out at Ryuji, and Ann laughed, her worried expression
gone. “I guess you’re right. I feel good about everything we’ve done so far. So
I guess it’s cool if I’m having a good time too, right?”
Akira smiled at Ann. She wasn’t wrong, of course, but there was a difference
between being a part of a group and being the leader. A leader didn’t have a
choice; a leader needed to be selfless. After all, the group followed his
orders. Any strategic errors, any lapses in judgment, any bad decisions would
all fall on Akira’s shoulders. All in all, Akira wasn’t really in the position
to be putting anyone’s needs before the team’s – least of all, his own.
And yet…
When he got down to it, wanting to befriend the person investigating the
Phantom Thieves was pretty selfish. Or, if not selfish, it was definitely NOT
in the best interest of the group. A real leader wouldn’t risk befriending a
potential enemy.
‘A real leader…’
Being a wildcard was great, but Akira had wondered more than once if it really
qualified him to lead his friends. Ever since he awoke Arsene – and then Pixie,
and Bicorn, and it became obvious that his power wasn’t quite the same as his
comrades’ – Akira had felt oddly restrained. There was never any question that
he would lead the Thieves, even though Morgana knew more about the Metaverse,
even though Makoto had experience leading as Student Council President…
What qualified anyone to be a leader, anyway?
The interview was over, and the TV had switched back to commercials for the
time being. While Akira was lost in his thoughts, Ryuji and Ann seemed to have
moved on to another topic. He tuned back into their conversation and tried to
put his worries out of his mind. Qualified or not, his friends respected his
judgment. For now, that was enough.
 
===============================================================================
 
Despite Shibuya’s impressive size and population, Akira felt like he ran into
Akechi with some regularity. At first, their meetings were transient and
fleeting – waiting for the train, or walking opposite directions in the
Underground Mall – but as summer progressed, so too did the frequency of their
encounters. Akira was almost tempted to call it fate, especially since he had a
strong feeling that Akechi had a persona, too. After Ryuji, Ann, Yusuke, and
Makoto, Akira was getting pretty good at identifying people with that
potential, and Akechi absolutely had that air about him.
Akira had contemplated sharing his theory with Morgana and the others more than
once. In the end, however, he wondered if he wasn’t just blowing things out of
proportion. Was it so surprising that there was someone else in Shibuya with a
persona? Who knew how many people had visited that crazy blue room, anyway? Or
perhaps Akechi had simply been to the Metaverse at some point; it didn’t even
have to have been on purpose. There were dozens of explanations. The fact that
Akechi could apparently hear Morgana speak didn’t really strike Akira as
something to be worried about.
Mentally, Akira laughed. What a strange thought, to think it wasn’t a big deal
that someone could hear a talking cat.
“Oh, good morning, Kurusu-kun.”
Akira was jolted back to reality when the object of his daydream appeared
before him. If some fate was indeed bringing them together, it seemed to take
great joy in catching Akira by surprise.
“G’morning,” Akira replied, standing up a little straighter.
Akechi pushed a tuft of hair behind his ear. He looked quite put-together,
despite the heat. “Early morning?” he asked.
“More like a late night,” Akira replied. He decided against letting Akechi know
that he had accidentally stayed up until 2:00am watching The X Folders with
Morgana. He was trying to get Akechi to like him, after all, not think he was a
massive nerd… not that it would be an inappropriate assumption to make.
Akechi gave him a small, sympathetic smile, but then the conversation lapsed,
and Akechi turned his attention to the rails. No trains had arrived yet, and so
Akechi had no reason to leave, but still Akira felt compelled to restart the
conversation – to keep Akechi’s attention.
“You’re different on TV,” Akira blurted out. Akechi jumped a tiny bit – he must
not have expected Akira to say anything else. It made Akira feel a bit stupid,
but thankfully when Akechi turned around, he seemed to be considering Akira’s
comment seriously.
“Hah… I suppose I am,” Akechi said, smiling. Akira noted it was his TV smile.
“Well, it is a very manufactured environment. You saw it when you were visiting
the station, did you not?”
Akira tried to recall the parts of his class trip that didn’t involve Akechi’s
face and voice. This was not an easy task, for more than one reason. “I
remember a lot of… yelling,” he said slowly.
This earned him a laugh from the detective. “Well, that’s not an inaccurate
impression,” Akechi said. His laughter faded, and he continued on, “It is a bit
stressful, I admit. I’m glad to have a platform to share my opinions, of
course, but… at times, I feel quite overwhelmed by it all.” Akechi rubbed his
right temple with his hand.
“Really?” Akira asked. Akechi wasn’t particularly forthcoming about his
feelings; Akira felt like he had just been granted a rare glimpse into Akechi’s
mind.
“Ah, is it that surprising?” Akechi asked.
Akira didn’t exactly know where he was going with this. “You just always seem…
composed,” he said finally.
“Really? I’d say the same about you,” Akechi said. He tapped a gloved finger
against his chin, narrowed his eyes a bit, and smiled. “I wonder what it would
take to make you flustered?”
Akira felt a little flutter in his stomach. Akechi was watching him with
bright, sharp eyes – a detective’s eyes, Akira figured, but there was more to
it than that. He got the distinct feeling that Akechi was teasing him, and he
didn’t know exactly what to do with that information.
Before his brain could finish processing Akechi’s statement, his train arrived,
a rush of air and noise. “…That’s mine,” Akira said faintly.
The mysterious look on Akechi’s face vanished, and he smiled pleasantly again.
“Then you should get going,” he said, stepping aside and clearing Akira’s path
to the turnstiles.
Akira hesitated for a minute. “I’ll… see you around?” he asked Akechi, lifting
his voice a bit.
Akechi tilted his head up curiously before he smiled and said, “I’m certain you
will.”
 
===============================================================================
 
In the quiet moments when Akira was left alone with his thoughts, his mind
would wander back to Akechi. Akira was starting to suspect that, despite his
best intentions, he wasn’t actually interested in befriending the detective
after all. That seemed a little too platonic a term for what Akira was feeling
now.
‘I wonder what it would take to make you flustered?’
Not much, apparently. A few clever words and a smile from a cute brown-haired
boy were enough to turn Akira’s mind to fuzzy mush. Akira smiled wryly. He was
almost embarrassed with himself, with how smitten he’d become in such a short
period of time. How long had it been since he’d met Akechi? A month, maybe? But
even Akechi had admitted he felt a connection to Akira…
“Akira-kun! Could you help the next customer, please?”
Akira snapped his head to attention. That’s right, he was working at Rafflesia
that evening. He had been in the middle of trimming stems, but now Hanasaki was
standing in front of an elderly woman that Akira recognized as a regular. She
was fond of gossiping and so serving her could drag on for quite a while. Akira
gave Hanasaki a sympathetic smile and turned to face the customer.
He put on his best customer service smile and said, “Hello, what can I… oh?”
Akira was quite surprised to find himself face to face with Goro Akechi. There
it was, that connection again. Maybe fate was trying to tell Akira to stop
daydreaming so often.
“Kurusu-kun,” Akechi said, smiling his default smile. “This is unexpected.”
Akira was thinking the exact same thing. He ran a hand through his hair and
gave a little shrug. “Surprised?” he asked.
“Somewhat.” Akechi’s eyes flicked down. “The apron suits you.”
Akira blinked. “So I’ve been told?” Indeed, it wasn’t the first time someone
had said that, but it was the first time he felt his face get hot as a result.
“A-anyway, what can I do for you?” Akira asked. He desperately willed his brain
to switch back to employee mode. If he got flustered now, Hanasaki would chew
him out for sure, and being chewed out by someone kind like her was worse than
anything Sojiro could dish out.
“Ah, I’m here to order a bouquet.”
Sadly, the part of Akira’s brain that told him to act like a responsible
employee was momentarily shorted out when presented with a perfect opportunity
to tease Akechi. “Going to confess your love, Akechi-kun?” Akira asked, a
playful smirk crossing his face.
To his delight, Akechi’s eyes widened and he gave a small, surprised gasp. “N-
no, I…” Akechi’s cheeks were growing pink. He laughed nervously, shaking his
head. “No, nothing like that. Rather…” His expression shifted down. “An
employee of the police department passed away recently. The funeral is
tomorrow.”
Whoops. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have joked,” Akira said.
“No, it’s okay,” Akechi said. He seemed to have recovered from Akira’s
unexpected flirtation now, and his face returned to a pleasantly neutral
expression. “He was not a close acquaintance of mine; I was merely the one
tasked with purchasing the bouquet.”
Akira nodded, and motioned for Akechi to step into the shop. “So, you’re
looking for something to express condolences?”
Akechi followed Akira, trailing him by a few feet. “Yes, I believe that would
be just fine.”
Akira quietly contemplated the request, and then began to sift through the
myriad flowers in the back of Rafflesia. He could distinctly feel Akechi
watching him. Well, he was a detective after all; he must have to watch people
all the time. Probably best not to think too much into it, Akira decided.
“Well, white chrysanthemums are traditional for funerals – to represent grief,
or lamentation. So those will be our base,” Akira said. He was used to musing
out loud at work – usually to Morgana – but today he raised his voice a touch
so that Akechi could hear him, too. “I’d like to include Rainbow Sage, to
encourage a happy future, but would that be appropriate for this situation…?”
Akira lapsed into silence, pondering his options. For a few minutes he worked
in silence, until at last he gathered up the chosen flowers into a loose bundle
and held it out at arms’ length, trying to assess the bouquet as a whole.
Satisfied, he wrapped the bouquet in clear plastic and turned back to Akechi,
who was waiting patiently, leaning against the cashier’s counter.
“Incredible,” Akechi said warmly. “You’re quite skilled at this. I have to say,
I’m impressed.”
Akira felt a swell of pride at the compliment.
“Ah, sir!” That was Hanasaki; she had finally eluded her previous customer. “I
can help you from here,” she said to Akechi. Akira passed the bouquet off to
Hanasaki and stood to the side. He didn’t want to return to his work, though,
not just yet.
“I hope the bouquet is to your liking!” Hanasaki chirped, giving a quick and
bouncy bow.
“It’s perfect,” Akechi replied with a smile. “I’m most grateful.” Hanasaki
clasped her hands together, clearly delighted.
Akechi turned to Akira, and gave him a small, quick bow. “Thank you,” he said.
He hesitated for a moment, and then he added, “Should I ever need to confess my
love, I’ll be sure to come to you… Akira-kun.”
This time, it was Akira’s turn to be surprised. This was an Akechi he hadn’t
seen before, and suspected he would never see on TV; Akechi with a sly smile,
his eyes partly hidden behind his bangs, a secret hint of something hiding in
his voice. Akira felt a lump in his throat. He opened his mouth to reply, but
he had nothing witty to say. Instead, he opted for a smile and a nod.
In seconds, the new Akechi disappeared and he was back to his usual TV-ready
self. “I’ll see you, then,” he said, and turned to leave, bouquet in hand.
 
===============================================================================
 
The rest of his shift passed by in a blur. Akira was working on auto-pilot,
busying himself with the flowers as much as possible, though he barely noticed
what he was doing. As the end of his shift drew close, Hanasaki stopped him for
a moment.
“That young man you were serving earlier – that was the detective, Akechi-kun,
wasn’t it?” she asked.
“Oh, uh… yes.” Akira said. For a tense moment he wondered if Hanasaki was going
to chastise him, if she had noticed his change in attitude, or his dazed
expression.
“You did a great job! He seemed really pleased when he left.” Hanasaki was
smiling brightly. “I’m so glad we were able to help someone so well-known like
him. Here, I’ve given you a little bonus tonight. Great work!”
Akira smiled weakly, and accepted his paycheck with a bow.
Walking home, Akira replayed their conversation in his head. Akechi had been
flirting with him, right? He felt sure he wasn’t imagining things. Akira had to
admit to himself that he meant his teasing to seem a little flirtatious, but
had Akechi picked up on that? And if he had, and he was knowingly playing
along, then…
Morgana poked his head out of Akira’s bag. “I wonder if Akechi was telling the
truth,” he said. Akira tensed up, and then Morgana added, “About the police
officer who died.”
“Ah,” Akira said. His voice was dry and rough. “Right, that.”
“Did you forget already?” Morgana chided, tapping his paws against Akira’s
shoulders. “What would you do without me, honestly?”
Akira laughed. Actually, he didn’t want to think about it. If Morgana hadn’t
been there, watching dutifully from the Rafflesia window… “Something stupid,
I’m sure,” he said, and Morgana hummed in agreement.
***** August *****
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
August arrived like a furnace, sudden and blisteringly hot. Futaba’s Palace had
been, ironically, a relief from the real world, as her pyramid was cool and
dark, but it was nearly impossible to escape the heat now that the Thieves had
stolen her heart. Not even Mementos was safe – the air inside the subway
tunnels was hot and stale, and the whole place smelled even more strongly of…
something,which no one wanted to spend time trying to identify.
Akira’s phone was uncharacteristically silent; no one could bring themselves to
do anything other than languish in their rooms today. Besides, all they could
do now was wait and hope Futaba would recover before Medjed launched their
attack, but that was nearly two weeks away and the waiting, coupled with the
heat, was unbearable.
Even Morgana was gone today, taking refuge in Futaba’s blessedly air-
conditioned room. Akira was envious. A cat could get away with hanging out in
the same room as a mostly-unconscious Futaba, but there was no way it wouldn’t
be creepy if Akira did the same. So instead Akira was sitting on his futon, his
arms draped out of his open window, desperately hoping a stray gust of wind
would come by and offer him some relief. The air was heavy and humid, and
against a background of ceaseless cicada cries, it was enough to put Akira into
a trance.
At least school was closed during August.
Eventually, the sun had moved in such a way that Akira’s window was no longer
in the shade, and rather than stay put and fry, he dragged himself downstairs.
Now that it was getting later, maybe he could talk a walk to somewhere more
air-conditioned.
There were a few customers down in Leblanc, mostly older folks from around
Yongen-Jaya who were looking for a relatively cool place to lounge. A familiar
face was sitting at the counter, however. Between finals and exploring Futaba’s
Palace, Akira hadn’t been out and about in Shibuya much lately, so to see
Akechi suddenly sitting in Leblanc was surprising, to say the least.
Akira briefly weighed his options. Akechi looked busy, so maybe it was best to
leave him alone. On the other hand, he would get to talk to Akechi. Well, a
little interruption couldn’t hurt, right? That was the excuse Akira came up
with as he was walking to the counter, anyway. His steps were so soft that
Akechi didn’t even move when Akira came up behind him, not until he had pulled
out a bar stool and sat down. “Fancy meeting you here.” Akira said.
“Ah… Kurusu?” Akechi looked surprised to see him. He glanced at Leblanc’s
entrance, then back to Akira. “Did you… I didn’t hear the door. Have you been
here the whole time?”
“I live upstairs,” Akira said, gesturing vaguely towards the stairs.
“Here? Ha, what a coincidence.” Akechi smiled halfheartedly. “My colleague
recommended Leblanc to me some time ago, and I’ve only just had the chance to
visit.”
“Huh. You two know each other?” Sojiro asked. He had meandered over to the
counter when Akira came downstairs, idly smoking a cigarette, and now
eavesdropping on their conversation.
“Yes, although it’s been a while,” Akechi said. “Have you been well, Kurusu-
kun?” 
Akira nodded. “I was busy with finals, and then…” he wracked his brain for an
appropriate way to explain his last two weeks away, “I was working on a
project. Finished now, though.”
“Ah, so you’re on break now? That’s good,” Akechi said. His eyes drooped a tiny
bit, and Akira noticed that Akechi looked more worn out than usual. Even though
it was summer, his skin seemed washed out and pale.
“Long day?” Akira guessed.
“To say the least,” Akechi’s gaze shifted back to the counter in front of him.
There were several neat piles of paper arranged around Akechi’s coffee cup. Ah,
that’s right, Akira thought, Akechi still had to work over the summer. “A long
month might be the better way to put it,” Akechi added.
“You need a break,” Akira commented.
Akechi shrugged. “Perhaps. But I’ve too much still to do.”
Akira frowned. Akechi’s response made him sound indifferent, but his body
language was telling a very different story. “One day off won’t kill you,”
Akira said. When Akechi didn’t answer, Akira gently placed a hand on his
shoulder – Akechi flinched a little at the unexpected contact. “Hang out with
me,” Akira offered.
Akechi looked away for a moment, staring at his work, like he needed its
permission to take a break. “What did you have in mind?” He asked.
“It’s your break. What do you want to do?”
Akechi laughed without humor. “I want to get as far away from Shibuya as
possible,” he said dryly. Akira regarded him for a long moment before he said
anything.
“I have an idea.”
“I was just being…” Akechi began, but he stopped short when he saw the earnest
look on Akira’s face. “…I have to admit I’m curious as to what you have in
mind,” he said at last, and Akira’s heart soared. “Very well. Lead the way.”
===============================================================================

Ten minutes later, Akira and Akechi were on a train to Asakusa, although Akira
didn’t tell Akechi exactly what he had in mind – he even bought both of the
train tickets, just to keep Akechi in the dark a little longer.
“The ride’s going to be a little long. I’m sorry,” Akira said. Luckily, they
had managed to snag an open pair of seats right away, as the previous occupants
departed the train at Yongen-Jaya. Being able to sit would make the ride a lot
more enjoyable.
“It’s okay,” Akechi said. “I find long train rides can be quite soothing, if
you aren’t in a hurry.”
“Mor—ah, my friend always pesters me to use my train rides efficiently,” Akira
said.
“Oh?” Akechi said. “What exactly does an efficient train ride entail?”
“Reading, mostly.”
“Ah, I can relate. I often use my spare time to review my notes,” he said, and
looked down at his empty lap. “Though, even if I had them, I wouldn’t do that
since I have company.”
Akira had persuaded Akechi to leave his briefcase with Sojiro – ‘safe and sound
behind the counter at Leblanc, right with the cash register,’ as Sojiro had put
it – so Akechi’s hands weren’t occupied, a rare sight. He didn’t seem to know
what to do with them, first folding them in his lap, then resting them on the
train seat, and then back to his lap.
It was almost funny how easily Akechi could be thrown out of his element by
something as small as taking away an item he was used to having. Though his
face remained pleasantly neutral, his restless hands were proof that he was
missing something and didn’t quite know what to do without it. Not to mention
that it was summertime, so his usual leather gloves were gone, too.
“Kurusu-kun?”
Akira snapped his eyes up away from Akechi’s lap. Damn, he’d been caught.
Akechi was looking at him, his head tilted just a bit to the side. He didn’t
seem unhappy, just perplexed.
Akira let out a long breath. “Just zoning out,” he said, rubbing the back of
his neck. “Sorry. Bad habit.”
“So I’ve noticed.” Akechi smiled his half-smile again. “Even while you’re
walking. It’s quite impressive you’re able to navigate crowds.”
Akira blinked. Now, when exactly had Akechi had the chance to watch Akira,
especially without Akira noticing? And he had watched him closely enough to
notice how Akira looked when he was spacing out…
“Ah, I didn’t mean it as an insult,” Akechi said, waving his hand as if to
brush his earlier comment away. “You just strike me as a very thoughtful
person, that’s all.”
Akira leaned back in his seat. “I wonder if you could convince Boss to start
calling me thoughtful instead of air-headed, then,” he quipped, and that made
Akechi laugh, dispelling the weird tension that Akira had felt growing between
them.
They passed the rest of the trip making idle conversation, and when they
arrived at Asakusa, the sun was just beginning to set. Akira continued to lead
the way down several main streets, until Sky Tower was looming directly
overhead. He stopped for a moment, looking up at the building.
“Sky Tower?” Akechi asked, following Akira’s gaze.
Akira nodded. “It was the farthest place I could think of.” He paused. “It’s
the only way to get above Shibuya.”
“That…” Akechi stared at him. “I would never have thought of that.” He shook
his head, but Akira could see a smile on his face. “Well, shall we?”
Since it was evening, Sky Tower wasn’t particularly crowded. They were easily
able to reach the observation deck and find a nice spot right in front of the
window. Akira leaned against the guard rail, taking in the view. Tokyo spread
out before them, dipped in orange sunlight and deep, dark shadows that threw
the whole landscape into sharp contrast. Near the base of the tower, they could
still see tiny cars whirring down the road and sidewalks dotted with speck-
sized humans. As the sky got darker, lights started to flicker on, lighting up
an endless grid of buildings that stretched all the way to the horizon.
For a while, they enjoyed the sights silently, until Akira was interrupted by
the distinct feeling that someone was staring at him. He quickly glanced to his
left, then his right, and was surprised to find that he was correct: Someone
was watching him, and it was Akechi.
There was a very short moment when Akira looked at Akechi but before Akechi
looked away. Akechi had his elbows propped up on the railing so he could rest
his chin on his hands. He was watching Akira with an expression that was
impossible to read – like he was trying very hard to figure something out. The
look in his eyes went straight through Akira’s skin and buried itself in his
muscles. It made his legs felt like they were made of cotton, fuzzy and weak.
Then the moment passed and Akechi turned back to the window. “It’s… actually
quite nice up here,” he said slowly. 
“Yeah,” Akira managed. He was distracted by how close Akechi was; their arms
were nearly touching, to say nothing of how they must have looked to a
stranger. Standing side-by-side like this, watching the sunset – had he
accidentally invited Akechi on a date?
A quiet part of his brain repeated back: ‘accidentally’.
“I’ve traveled by airplane a few times,” Akechi continued, “but I’ve never
really taken the opportunity to look at the city from above. It… puts things
into perspective, somewhat.” He laughed a little, and looked back at Akira. “I
have no idea if that was your intention, Kurusu-kun, but thank you.”
Words failed him, and so Akira instead offered up a smile.
===============================================================================

It was quite dark by the time they got back to Yongen-Jaya. The afternoon heat
was finally starting to fade, swept away by a warm evening breeze. Akechi and
Akira walked down the street back to Leblanc leisurely, neither in a particular
hurry to get back.
Akira’s mind was wandering, and suddenly a thought struck him. “Hey, Akechi.”
“Hmm?”
“Do you think it’s okay for a leader to act selfishly sometimes?” Akira asked.
Akechi tilted his head to look at him.
“A selfish leader…” Akechi repeated. Something about that phrase clearly struck
a nerve with him, as his voice had lost the pleasant conversational tone he
usually kept. In the dark, however, it was hard to see any reaction on his
face. “How do you mean?”
Akira paused, searching for the words. “I guess I mean, if you’re a leader, do
you forfeit your right to do things for yourself?”
“Ah.” Akira may have been imagining it, but Akechi sounded a little relieved.
“No, I don’t think so. But, I might not call it selfishness to take time for
yourself.”
Akira hummed thoughtfully.
“Why do you ask?” Akechi added. “Have you been feeling selfish lately?”
That caught Akira off-guard. “Am I a leader?” he asked.
“You certainly seem to be. Your friends admire you,” Akechi said.
“You’re my friend too, you know,” Akira said.
Akechi looked distant for a moment, and when he spoke, his voice was so quiet
it was nearly carried off by the wind. “Perhaps I admire you, as well.”
They continued back to Leblanc in silence. Sojiro was just closing the shop
when they returned, and he seemed quite pleased that they had come back when
they did – any longer and he might well have locked them out.
“I’m heading home now. Just lock up after you’ve gotten your things,” Sojiro
said, and then he was out the door. Akira chose to ignore Sojiro’s brusque
departure and retrieved Akechi’s case from behind the counter.
“Thank you, Kurusu. Truly,” Akechi said, accepting his case from Akira. His
lips curved upward just slightly. It was a small smile, but it was a real
smile. “I did need a break… and I feel at ease around you,” Akechi added. Then
his smile faded and he looked down, like he had accidentally said too much. “…I
should be going. It’s late.”
Akira nodded, and walked him to the door. Stepping outside, Akechi turned to
look at him, and suddenly Akira’s heart kicked into overdrive. The warm
lamplight outside Leblanc made Akechi’s features look soft, framed by wispy,
ash-brown hair. In a single moment, every quiet thought Akira had been trying
to ignore for the past few weeks rushed into his mind – he felt like he was
seeing things in slow motion, his brain going a mile a minute and everything
else slowing down to a halt.
‘It’s not selfishness…’
 “Good night, Kurusu,” Akechi said. He turned and started to leave for the
station.
“Wait—” Akira heard himself call out, and then he was moving forward, reaching
his arm out to grab Akechi’s shoulder. Akechi stopped, and Akira nearly ran
into him, stopping just short of collision, but they were exceptionally close,
not even inches apart.
Before he could falter, before he could think, Akira took Akechi’s face in his
hands and closed the distance between them, pressing his lips softly against
Akechi’s. At first his brain went blank, white, until he felt Akechi place a
steadying hand on his side, bringing Akira back to reality. And then he
realized that Akechi was kissing him back, gently, tentatively.
As soon as the courage had arrived, it was gone, and Akira pulled back,
dropping his hands to his side. Akechi looked stunned, and he raised his free
hand to his mouth, fingers ghosting over his lips.
“Good night,” Akira said quickly, and he turned on his heel and hurried back to
Leblanc, disappearing into the dark café before he had a chance to gauge
Akechi’s reaction. His face was burning – he could practically feel heat
radiating off his cheeks – and his heart was drumming loudly in his ears.
“Akira?” A voice asked from somewhere in the darkness.
“I’m here, Morgana,” Akira replied, his voice only a little shaky.
The cat slunk out of the shadows. “It’s late! Geez, where have you been?”
Akira gave a long sigh. “Sorry to worry you,” he said. Morgana’s bright eyes
blinked up at him from the darkness. Akira reached down and scooped him up
carefully. “Hey, I’m tired. Let’s go to bed, okay?”
===============================================================================

Akechi made himself scarce after that night – or maybe it was Akira who was
hiding. Coincidence or not, the Thieves ended up fairly busy for the next week,
first with Futaba’s recovery and then celebrating Medjed’s defeat, and Akira
found himself without closure for quite some time. He almost wished he would
just run into Akechi in the street or something. Even if it ended with Akechi
hating him, it would be better than running through a million possible
scenarios in his head.
“C’mon, Leader!” Ryuji said, throwing his arm around Akira’s shoulder,
startling him out of his daze. “It’s no fun if you’re not celebratin’ too!” The
group had decided to go and grab a late lunch together, a sort of pre-beach but
post-Futaba-deciding-to-leave-her-room party. Any reason was a good reason to
indulge in snacks as far as they were concerned.
Akira looked up at his friend. “I’m celebrating,” he replied, blinking slowly.
“Dude, at least put some effort into it.” Ryuji sighed, dropping his arm to his
side and returning to his noodle bowl.
“You’ve been pretty out of it lately,” Ann commented. She leaned across the
table and pressed her hand against Akira's forehead. “Are you feeling okay?”
"That ain't gonna do anything, Ann, you've been eating ramen. Your hand's all
hot from the bowl," Ryuji said. Ann scrunched up her face and sat back down in
her seat, kicking Ryuji gently under the table.
“If you’re feeling unwell, there’s no need to push yourself,” Yusuke commented.
“We can always find another excuse to celebrate.”
Akira tried to give a reassuring smile. "I'm just feeling a little worn out,
that's all," he said. Judging by the looks on the Thieves' faces, he was not
particularly convincing.
"We've been here for quite some time," Makoto said. "If you'd like to leave
early, Akira, I'm sure no one would mind."
"Hey, I would mind!" Morgana piped up from Akira's bag. "He's my ride home, and
I'm not done here yet! ...but I suppose it'd be bad to let our Leader get
exhausted, so Akira, if you're ready to leave, I won't object."
Akira was grateful his friends offered him the opportunity to bow out early,
which is exactly what he did. It wasn't that he wasn't enjoying himself, and he
was certainly thrilled that Futaba was feeling well again, his brain was
just... somewhere else. He was starting to realize that he had to resolve this
whole Akechi situation quickly, before they had to infiltrate another Palace,
because he couldn't imagine trying to fight like this. It was one thing to get
distracted in the middle of a conversation, but in the middle of a battle?
Luckily, that opportunity would come sooner than he expected, because Akechi
was sitting at Leblanc's bar when Akira came home. A tiny panic started to
creep into Akira’s brain – he didn’t have a plan of attack ready to go right
now – so he took a minute to survey the room. Akechi was currently staring
intently into his coffee cup, and did not seem to have noticed that Akira had
arrived. Akira decided to let him be for now – but Akechi called his name
softly as he passed by.
“I’d like to talk,” Akechi murmured, never looking up from his cup. “If you’re
available.”
Akira’s pulse immediately doubled. He nodded and said a hasty “Hold on,” then
crossed the store as quickly as he could without arousing Sojiro’s suspicion.
Once they were halfway up the stairs, Morgana poked his head out of Akira’s
backpack. “Hey, what’d he say to you? I couldn’t hear.”
Akira briefly considered lying, but decided instead to just understate the
truth. “He wants to talk.”
“Hmm. I wonder what he wants,” Morgana said. It made Akira’s chest ache a
little to hear the suspicion in Mona’s voice. “I guess we’ll find out.”
“Actually, Morgana, I think I should talk to him alone,” Akira said slowly. He
couldn’t think of an explanation that didn’t sound fake or stupid, and he
wasn’t about to tell Morgana that he was secretly hoping the talk would end in
a kiss and it would be weird to have his sentient cat friend watching. So
instead he didn’t expand on his statement, and let Morgana fill in the blanks
himself.
The cat regarded him with a puzzled expression for a moment. “Well… okay. If
that’s what you want. Hey, take me back downstairs and let me out. I’ll go for
a walk.”
Akira gave a smile of relief. “Sounds good.” He dropped his backpack on the
ground, out of the way, and then he and Morgana headed back downstairs. Akira
forced himself to take the stairs one at a time like a normal person.
Before he left, Morgana looked back at him. “You’re filling me in on the
details when I get back, right?”
“I will,” Akira promised. ‘Well, mostly,’ he added silently. Morgana made a
cheerful noise and then disappeared into the Yongen-Jaya backstreets.  Akira
let the door close, and then made his way back to the counter.
“Akechi-kun,” Akira said, sitting down next to him at the bar. “Let me know
when you’re done with your drink, and I can show you those books I was talking
about.”
Akechi fixed him with a mildly confused look. Akira stared back at him, trying
to telepathically communicate his message to Akechi: ‘It’s quiet upstairs. We
can talk in private.’
“Ah, those books I had stored up in the attic?” Sojiro asked. “There’s some
pretty dense stuff in there.”
Akechi blinked slowly. “Oh! Yes,” he said at last. He relaxed a bit and
continued, “Kurusu-kun was telling about them not too long ago. Given my line
of work, I thought there may be something of interest to me.”
“Hmm. Well, I suppose you might get more use out of them than this guy.” Sojiro
gestured at Akira, who stared back at Sojiro with his best “really?” face.
Sojiro did not seem to notice. “Oh, but before you take anything, show it to
me, okay? Some of the books are… well, they’re keepsakes.”
“Ah, of course,” Akechi said, giving Sojiro a pleasant smile. “I’ll be sure to
check in with you first, Sakura-san.”
Akira busied himself with his phone, waiting for Akechi to finish his coffee.
After a moment, Akira heard the gentle clinking of glassware, drawing his
attention, and Akechi was standing up from his seat. He looked at Akira and
said, “Shall we?”
Akira simply nodded, and lead the way upstairs in silence. They stopped briefly
at the threshold to Akira’s room, before Akira stepped inside and made his way
to the sofa. After a short hesitation, Akechi sat down beside him, dropping his
case on the floor.
“So. This is where you live?” Akechi asked.
“Yeah, pretty much.” Akira looked around the room. He didn’t think it was too
bad of a space, all things considered. He wondered what kind of room Akechi was
used to living in.
Akechi rested his arms on his legs and stared at the floor. “About the other
day…” he began.
“I’m sorry if I upset you,” Akira cut in immediately. “I just…” He felt his
face getting hot again already, damn it, “When we hung out before… I thought
you’d been flirting with me.”
“I was,” Akechi said, so promptly and plainly, as if he didn’t even realize
what that admission would do to Akira’s mind. “I just didn’t think you’d
actually…” he trailed off. He was pulling his legs together, trying to make
himself as small as possible.
“We can forget about it, if you want,” Akira said, after a while.
Akechi laughed a little. “I may find it hard to forget my first kiss.”
Something about hearing it said out loud made things all too real for Akira –
he knew what he did, of course, but it hadn’t really registered in his mind
until just now – plus, confirmation that it wasn’t just Akira’s first kiss was
almost too much for him to handle. He chose to keep his mouth shut and wait for
Akechi to continue.
After a long silence, Akechi finally asked, “…what do you want from me?”
Akechi might as well have punched him in the gut… but he didn’t sound angry. If
anything, he sounded worried, even scared. “I don’t…” Akira began to say. ‘I
don’t want anything’ – but that would have been a lie. So instead he twiddled
with a piece of his bangs and said, “Whatever you’re willing to give me, I
guess.”
“You barely know me,” Akechi said, at last sitting up so he could face Akira.
“You’ll learn something about me you don’t like. What then?"
“That’s for me to decide,” Akira said. “But, Akechi... If you’re trying to tell
me you want to leave, I—“
“That’s not it,” Akechi said quickly, shaking his head. “…quite the opposite,
in fact.” 
Akechi shifted slightly, his knee bumping against Akira’s in an awkward attempt
to get closer. He reached out and gently caressed Akira’s cheek; his touch was
so delicate, like he thought Akira would break if he pressed too hard. Akechi
leaned forward – Akira could feel him trembling – and pressed a tentative kiss
against Akira’s lips.
Days of anxiety melted away in an instant. Akira relaxed into the kiss, moving
his lips slowly against Akechi’s. He reached out blindly, resting one hand on
Akechi’s knee and the other on his shoulder, coaxing his companion closer.
Akechi's lips were soft and dry, just like Akira remembered from that night,
but even better this time, because he knew this wasn't unwanted. Akira opened
his open and experimentally slide his tongue across Akechi's lower lip.
Akechi's lips parted, just slightly, but then he broke away, pink-faced and
wanting for air - from excitement or inexperience, or maybe both - and Akira
took the moment to pull his legs up onto the sofa. Sitting sideways, they
didn't have to worry about their legs bumping together anymore.
Akira wasn’t about to let things end after a single kiss, not again, so he
curled a hand behind Akechi’s head and pulled him close. Akechi seemed
emboldened now – he had stopped shaking and he leaned forward to anticipate
Akira’s kiss, moving his hands across Akira’s back with a feather-light touch.
It was all Akira could do not to sigh; Akechi was soft and warm and more than
he could have imagined. In time, they ended up a tangle of limbs and snagged
clothing. It wasn’t especially comfortable, but Akira felt over the moon. He
looked down at Akechi, who had ended up beneath Akira somewhere along the line.
Akechi smiled up at him. It was the first time, Akira thought, that he had seen
Akechi smile without reservations. Akira brushed some of Akechi’s hair away
from his eyes.
“You’re cute,” Akira said. He watched Akechi laugh, watched his eyes flutter
closed and his nose crinkle, all the little details he would miss from a
distance.
After a moment, Akechi sighed. “I can’t stay late,” he said. Akira thought he
almost sounded disappointed. “Sakura-san will get suspicious.”
The sun was starting to set, and since they hadn’t bothered to turn on a lamp
when they came in, the room was growing darker by the second. Sojiro might not
believe that they were talking about books for so long.
Nonetheless, Akira smirked. “Boss is always suspicious of me.”
“Let’s not exacerbate things, then,” Akechi said. Akira figured he was probably
right and carefully pushed himself up off the sofa, offering Akechi a hand to
help him into a sitting position.
Akechi stood up and started straightening his shirt. Then he turned back to
Akira and said, “Kurusu. Are you certain?
“Akechi.” Akira said seriously. He stood up and cupped Akechi’s chin, tilting
his head until they were looking each other in the eyes. “I’m not sure if I was
giving off mixed messages here, but please allow me to clear things up for
you.” He proceeded to give him a long, gentle kiss.
Akechi laughed softly when Akira finally pulled back. “Okay, understood.” He
rubbed the back of his neck, still looking unconvinced. “I… I’m busy a lot. I
won’t be able to see you much.”
“You’re still trying to dissuade me?” Akira asked.
“No! No,” Akechi said immediately, which made Akira smirk. He was so easy to
tease. “I’m just… not used to this.” He sighed. “Please don’t laugh at me if
I’m a bit nervous.”
“Give me your number,” Akira said. “We can talk.”
Akechi just nodded wordlessly, and they exchanged numbers, and then it really
was time for them to depart ways. They walked downstairs together. Akechi
briefly explained to Sojiro that none of the books caught his eye, but thank
you for the offer, really, I need to be going now, and then Akechi was out the
door, waving good-bye.
Akira brewed himself a cup of coffee and sat down in the chair outside of
Leblanc to wait for Morgana to come home. It was still obnoxiously hot outside,
and the coffee was boiling too, but it didn’t bother Akira right now. He knew
he had a dopey smile on his face, and he didn’t much care.
“You look happy,” Morgana said when he came home. “Did you get something good
from Akechi?”
‘You have no idea.’ “No. Actually, he didn’t have much to say.”
“Hmm.” Morgana looked thoughtful for a moment. “Oh well. Maybe next time?”
Akira barely hid his smirk behind his coffee cup. “Yeah, maybe next time.”
 
Chapter End Notes
     I am completely overwhelmed by the warm reception to chapter one!
     Honestly, from the bottom of my heart, thank you everyone who read
     and commented and left kudos - it means a whole lot to me. I'm so
     excited to share my story with you.
***** September *****
Perhaps the thing that surprised Akira the most was how little things changed
between him and Akechi in the following weeks. Akira still had school, of
course, and training in Mementos, while Akechi had work and probably school as
well, though he rarely spoke about his studies. They would still run into each
other at the train station, sometimes unexpectedly, sometimes preceded by a
good morning text and a request to arrive at the station a little earlier
today.
Akira was learning things, though, like that Akechi texted exactly the same way
he spoke – that is, in complete sentences and polite to a fault. He learned
that while Akechi was reluctant to initiate any kind of affectionate gestures,
he seemed to rather enjoy the attention, though he pretended not to. He learned
that Akechi preferred coffee brewed with Blue Mountain beans, and that he came
to Leblanc most often on Tuesdays and Thursdays, days when fewer court cases
were held.
Spending the evening together at Leblanc became a common occurrence. Often this
would involve simply sitting side-by-side in silence, each focused on their own
work, or quietly chatting over coffee and curry. Sometimes, though, they would
stay late, pretending to study until Sojiro closed the café and left for home.
When the lights were out and the door was locked, Akechi would let Akira kiss
him, hidden away in a booth seat, swathed in shadows. It was quiet and
clandestine and it made Akira’s heart race.
How Morgana didn’t notice was a mystery to Akira – or maybe he did notice, and
he was just polite enough not to mention it.
Akira wasn’t really sure what they were – boyfriends seemed too formal, friends
with benefits seemed too crude – and Akechi did not seem at all interested in
discussing it, so Akira didn’t ask. He decided it was enough to live in the
moment and enjoy their weird little relationship, whatever it was.
“Joker, watch it!” Futaba cried out.
Akira snapped back to the present, just in time to see a huge, hulking shadow
tear into his shoulder with its claws. It broke right through his clothes and
his skin, and left a long, deep gash, sizzling with some kind of caustic
discharge.
Akira tried to suppress his pain and frustration and ordered, “Fox, take it
out!”
Yusuke was able to make swift work of the shadow. The fight had been raging for
some time before Akira lost track of his situation – that attack must have been
a desperate last stand. Once they were safely in the clear, Morgana bounded
over to him.
“You okay, Joker?” he asked, lifting his paws out and casting a healing spell.
Instantly the wound closed up, and the acidic residue evaporated. It still
hurt, but at least it wasn’t likely to get infected now. Akira wasn’t sure if
humans could catch diseases from Mementos, but the whole place was so grimy
that it wouldn’t exactly surprise him.
Akira smiled through the pain and gave Morgana a thankful nod. “I am now.
Thanks, Mona.”
Morgana smiled, just a bit, and then he turned and glared at Ryuji. “Look at
you! Even Joker’s off his game thanks to you.”
“ME?” Ryuji barked, looming over Morgana. “Please, you –”
“Shut it, both of you,” Akira interrupted, getting to his feet. “That was our
last target for today, so we’re headed home now. No arguing.” It was an order,
and the group followed him without another word, but a tense air settled over
the Mona bus as they drove back up to the surface.
Akira frowned, staring out the window into the darkness. He really should have
noticed the growing dissent between the other Thieves earlier… then maybe he
could have shut it down before things escalated to shouting matches. He wished
Mishima had never set up that damn poll; all the public attention was putting
everyone on edge.
Ryuji left immediately once they returned to reality, leaving the others to say
awkward goodbyes and go their separate ways and, predictably, leaving Akira
with the bulk of the loot. He reluctantly loaded two large bags of assorted
junk and treasure up onto his arms, and he and Morgana walked back to Leblanc
in silence.
Just before they arrived, Morgana struggled out of Akira’s bag and onto the
ground. He didn’t look up at Akira before saying, “I’m going on a walk. I’ll be
back.”
Without waiting for a response, the cat slipped off and disappeared around a
corner. Akira was going to have to confront Morgana about his behavior
eventually, but it could wait. Morgana clearly needed some time to himself, and
Akira desperately needed to set down the bags of treasure that were weighing
down his arms.
He pried open Leblanc’s door and carefully shuffled inside. Behind the counter,
Sojiro stared at him, completed befuddled. “Kid… I swear,” he said, sighing.
Akechi – who had just arrived, apparently, since he did not seem to have
ordered anything yet – immediately hopped up and came to Akira’s side.
“Do you need help?” he asked at once, already grabbing one bag and lifting it
off of Akira’s arm. Akira smiled gratefully, and motioned for Akechi to follow
him upstairs.
“What is all this stuff?” Akechi asked as they were climbing the stairs. The
bags were stuffed with dozens of copper and silver coins, dirt-crusted pieces
of clothing, old papers and keys, and a handful of other weird, discarded items
that had fallen into Mementos in one way or another.
It was not exactly the easiest thing to explain away. Akira thought for a
moment. “Recycling?” he suggested.
“You sound so certain,” Akechi said, obviously sarcastic, but he didn’t pry any
further.
They dropped the treasure bags at the foot of Akira’s futon. Akira sighed in
relief and gave Akechi a quick “thank you” before he allowed himself to flop
down on the sofa. He sat down a little too quickly, though, and his shoulder
hit the back of the sofa. He visibly winced, something which did not go
unnoticed by his companion.
“Are you hurt?” Akechi asked.
“My shoulder…” Akira said vaguely. “It’s fine, though.”
Akechi frowned. He leaned over in front of Akira and looked him in the eye,
like he was trying to catch Akira lying. After a few silent seconds, Akechi
shook his head, grabbed Akira by the collar, and began unbuttoning his top.
Akira felt suddenly quite warm – another action that did not slip past Akechi’s
eye.
“Don’t get the wrong idea,” he said, smirking in a way that very much gave
Akira the wrong idea, thanks, “I just want to see the wound.”
Then Akechi pushed Akira’s sleeve off his shoulder, revealing the injury from
Mementos. It was largely healed in Mementos, thanks to Morgana’s quick spell,
but it left a dark, tender wound on him in real life. It wasn’t bleeding, but
it still looked pretty nasty. Akira wasn’t used to getting hit as squarely as
he was today.
Akechi closed his eyes and exhaled heavily through his nose. “Do you have
medical supplies?” he asked, and Akira nodded, gesturing to the shelf across
the room.
Akechi treated his wound with remarkable efficiency. “You need to be more
careful with this kind of thing,” he said, once he had finished applying the
bandage. “Even if you manage to patch yourself up in the moment, you’ll need to
treat the wound properly, otherwise you’ll get scars.”
“Scars are sexy,” Akira quipped.
“I’m serious,” Akechi said. Indeed, there was no trace of amusement anywhere on
his face – he looked almost alarmingly grave. Akira hadn’t expected that kind
of reaction. It wasn’t particularly like Akechi to over-react… at least, Akira
thought it wasn’t.
“All right, I hear you,” Akira said. “I’ll be more careful.”
Akechi seemed satisfied, and they retreated back downstairs to the café.
“I’m going to Hawaii for a few days,” Akira mentioned offhandedly. Akechi
raised his eyebrows, and Akira clarified, “School trip.”
“Ah, that’s actually quite fortunate. I’m going to be out of town for work this
week. It seems our schedules have synced up rather nicely,” Akechi said.
“Oh? What’ve they got you working on?” Akira asked.
Akechi did not immediately respond. For a moment, he seemed to be very far
away, his eyes dull and his expression as still as stone. It was gone in a
blink, though, and Akira was left wondering if he had been imagining things.
“I’ll be meeting with a fairly important client,” Akechi said. “One of my
superiors asked me to accompany him on his trip.”
“You don’t sound thrilled,” Akira commented, and Akechi laughed dryly.
“I’d prefer not to travel, unless it’s absolutely necessary,” he said, and he
gave a small smile that didn’t seem to reach his eyes. “I suppose it’s good
that you’re the one leaving the country and not me, hmm?”
 
===============================================================================
 
Hawaii was a welcome respite. The Thieves – nearly all of them, somehow or
another – seemed content to forget their argument for the duration of the trip.
It would have been the perfect vacation, Akira thought, if it weren’t for the
text Futaba sent him the day of his return flight, frantically telling him that
Morgana had never come home for dinner.
So instead of feeling rested, instead of feeling comforted by the sight of
Leblanc, which had come to feel like home, he was drowning in anxiety and the
odd feeling that something was looming just over his shoulder.
Sojiro all but laughed at him when he arrived at Leblanc. “Geez, you look like
hell. Was the flight that bad?” he asked, and Akira just gave him a long, tired
stare. Sojiro continued, “That kid’s upstairs,” – everyone was “kid” to Sojiro
if they were under 18 and not female – “it got a bit loud down here earlier. He
seemed pretty studious, and since you know him, I figured it’d be okay.”
Akira did not care to press Sojiro for details, so he just went upstairs. He
was not particularly surprised to see Akechi sitting on his sofa, legs pulled
up underneath him, quietly reading a book, but it still made his heart jump to
see him looking so at home and so comfortable in Akira’s own bedroom. When he
stepped into the room, the movement caught Akechi’s eye, and he looked up. “Ah…
welcome home.”
“Miss me?” Akira asked. He dropped his suitcase out of the way and sat down on
the sofa beside him.
Akechi’s lips quirked into a tiny smile. “You were gone?” he asked. Akira put
on a pout, a little over-the-top, but it made Akechi laugh - such a nice sound,
Akira thought. He hadn't realized just how much he enjoyed hearing it. “…I did
miss you, actually,” Akechi added quietly, and he started to fidget with his
hands, idly rubbing his thumb against his index finger.
Akira was starting to recognize the little signs that meant Akechi wanted to be
touched, and this was one of them. “Is that why you snuck into my room?” Akira
asked, reaching out and taking the side of Akechi's face in his hand.
“It – it was Sakura-san’s suggestion,” Akechi stammered, looking away from
Akira. “I’m sorry I intruded.”
“It’s fine,” Akira said, smoothing his thumb over Akechi’s cheek. Akechi leaned
into Akira’s touch, just barely. They shared a quiet moment together, Akira
pressing a soft kiss against Akechi's lips, and Akira was perfectly content to
spend the rest of his evening like this, exactly like this, until-
“Akira?” A muffled voice sounded out from across the room. “It’s Makoto. May I
come in?”
Akechi sprang back from Akira like he had just touched a hot stove and Akira
gave a surprising, reflexive jolt. They settled themselves quickly, though, and
Akira called out to Makoto, just as she decided to poke her head around the
wall and look inside. Akira motioned for her to come in. She looked as though
she had barely recovered from the flight: tired eyes and mussed hair, and Akira
wondered if she had even gone home yet. “I’m sorry for barging in like this,"
she began, "But I - Akechi-kun?”
“Ah, good evening Makoto-san,” Akechi said, putting on a pleasant smile. He was
quite red in the face, but the room light was low enough that it wasn’t
obvious, especially from a distance.
“I… wasn’t expecting to see you,” Makoto said. She looked from Akira to Akechi,
momentarily lost, like she had been thrown off course by the unexpected
visitor, but she regained her composure in no time. She tapped her chin
thoughtfully. “Actually… I’m glad you’re here, Akechi-kun. You might be able to
help.”
Akira shifted, leaning forward towards Makoto. “What’s wrong?” he asked.
Makoto sighed. “I’ve just learned something quite urgent: Principal Kobayakawa
passed away.” As she spoke, she stared straight at Akira, unblinking. Akira met
her intense gaze, a look she usually reserved for fights, and he nodded very
slightly. He wanted to confirm that he got her hidden meaning, that she
suspected foul play.
“Your principal?” Akechi asked, and Akira nodded. “I’m sorry to hear that.”
Makoto turned her attention to Akechi. “Akechi-kun, you work with my sister,
correct?” He nodded, and so Makoto continued, “Have you noticed anything… off
about her lately?”
Akechi closed his eyes in thought, and then shook his head. “I haven’t had many
chances to see Sae-san lately, I’m afraid. I’ve passed her in the halls a few
times, but she hasn’t stopped to say hello. Though, that could be considered an
anomaly in and of itself.”
“I see,” Makoto said. She couldn’t hide the disappointment in her voice. “When
she told me about Principal Kobayakawa, she seemed… I’m not sure how to
describe it. She didn’t seem herself.”
“I wish I could be of more help,” Akechi said, “But… if things are as you say,
then I need to go.” He sighed and stood up from the sofa. “It’s possible this
is related to the mental shutdown cases. It’s likely someone has already tried
to contact me.”
They exchanged goodbyes, with Akechi promising to let Makoto know if he noticed
anything about Sae-san, and then Makoto sat down beside Akira.
“Akira…” Makoto began, and Akira could already tell he was not going to enjoy
this conversation, “Why was Akechi-kun here?” Makoto’s eyebrows were knit
together, and she had a piercing stare that, coupled with her curt tone, made
Akira feel like he was on trial.
“…We’re friends,” Akira said. Strictly speaking, this was not false, but it
wasn’t the truth and it wasn’t what Makoto was looking for; her frown made that
obvious.
“You do understand why that’s dangerous, right?” she said more than asked.
“I don’t think it’s as dangerous as you think,” he replied.
Makoto sighed. “I trust your judgment, Akira-kun,” she said, “I just… things
are so unpredictable right now. Please be careful.” After this, she stood up.
“I wanted to tell you in person, but I also think we should hold a meeting
tomorrow to discuss this with the others. It could be nothing, but it could be
a sign of something worse to come. …Morgana is still missing, as well.”
“We’ve got a lot on our plates,” Akira agreed. “Go get some sleep, Makoto.”
Makoto nodded, and as she was leaving, she looked back at him and said, “You do
the same, Akira-kun.”
 
===============================================================================
 
Despite his crippling jetlag, Akira felt restless. He couldn’t sit still after
his conversation with Makoto, and since he had already had two unexpected
guests this evening, he was eager to go somewhere he wouldn’t be easily
recognized. Eventually, he found himself on his way to Shinjuku.
“Hey, Akira-kunnn!” a chipper voice called out to him. Chihaya was waving at
him, her arm moving in big, carefree motions. Of course, he should have
realized that there were people who would recognize him in Shinjuku too, but
seeing Chihaya would be a nice distraction, and who knows, she might even be
able to offer some insight. She didn’t appear to have a client for the time
being, so Akira ambled over to see her.
Chihaya gave good advice when she wasn’t bogged down by her Holy Stone quota.
It was simple enough to help other people change their fate – you just had to
give them the confidence to do it. A surprising number of people already had
the ability to change their lives, just not the nerve. Not that this was
particularly helpful to Akira, though; he had nerve, to be sure, but sometimes
he felt like the more things changed, the more they stayed the same.
“You’re back from your trip already, huh?” Chihaya asked when Akira sat down at
her table. Akira only nodded in reply, which made Chihaya frown at him. “You
seem down. Did something bad happen?”
Akira shook his head. “The trip was fine,” he said, but he couldn’t think of
anything to add, so he just shut his mouth. Chihaya held her chin in her hands
and regarded him for a long time.
“Let me read your fortune, okay?” she finally asked, and for once, Akira was
actually hesitant. Usually he was more than willing to let Chihaya tell his
fortune. Something small and nice might happen at best, and at worst, nothing
at all, save for possibly giving him a hint about what the future would hold.
There was a strange current in the air tonight, though, and Akira felt that he
wouldn’t like what the cards had to say.
“C’mon, Akira-kun,” Chihaya urged, and at last he nodded. He took a deep breath
and listened to Chihaya shuffle her cards, listened to the little slap they
made when she placed them on the table. She turned the cards over one by one,
taking her time to carefully consider each new piece of the puzzle as it
appeared.
Once the cards were all revealed, Chihaya poured over them, studying them
carefully. Akira watched her to see if she would reveal any secrets before she
meant to, but her face was remarkably placid.
“Akira-kun…” she said slowly, not looking up from the cards, “Are you okay?”
“Yeah?” Akira said. “I thought I was. Why?”
Chihaya looked pensive. “How many times have I told your fortune now? It’s
gotta be a dozen or so…” she began, folding her hands in her lap. “You know,
most people’s paths don’t change too drastically from reading to reading, so
when something new shows up, it’s easy to connect the dots. But, Akira…”
“Just tell me, Chihaya,” he said. “Not knowing is just making me anxious.”
“…you have such an interesting outlook,” she said, with a brief smile that
faded as soon as it arrived. “I’ve never seen anything like this before – not
to this degree, anyway. There’s a – a knot in your path. No – it’s more like
your path is a knot. Dozens of threads meshed together, and I can’t sense
anything beyond it. It’s like a cage, or a… well, not a prison, but… maybe a
very small room with no exits?”
Akira didn’t exactly understand, but he could see how much it upset Chihaya.
“And this is completely new?” Akira asked.
Chihaya nodded. “The last time – it was the beginning of the month, right? The
day I had to close up early because of a storm – the last time I read your
fortune, your path was running… not quite parallel, but alongside several
others. It was dark, and I sensed that it was leading to your death, but it
also felt hopeful, in a way – open and expansive. Now, though…” Chihaya winced,
and her hand flew to her temple. “I can feel the pressure physically. Akira-
kun… what’s happened to put so much on a kid like you…?”
She looked at him with such sad eyes that Akira felt compelled to make a joke,
something, anything to try and lighten the mood. “You’re not going to pawn
another Holy Stone off on me, are you?” he asked, and this did at least make
Chihaya smile.
“No, of course not,” she replied, shaking her head. “I just want you to be
careful, Akira-kun.”
Akira leaned back in his chair. There was that phrase again – be careful. That
advice was all well and good, but he had to wonder: if fate had it out for him,
did it really matter if he was careful or not?
 
===============================================================================
 
Despite his best efforts, Akira was troubled by Chihaya’s words. He had a
restless night and he continued to feel gloomy well into the next day, during
the Thieves meeting he and Makoto had called. Kobayakawa’s death, not to
mention their unexpected meeting with Morgana in Okumura’s palace, had everyone
riled up. Akira did his best to listen, but all he could hear was Ryuji, Ann,
and Futaba trying to talk over each other, which sounded like radio static.
His life was a knot. What the hell did that mean?
The meeting concluded with the decision to stake out Mementos tomorrow, so at
the very least, it wasn’t a complete waste of time. Once they were finished,
Akira and Futaba walked back to Leblanc together, though neither had much to
say. When they arrived, Akechi was waiting for them; he had texted Akira
earlier in the day and mentioned that he was surprisingly free that afternoon,
so it was no surprise to see him, at least not for Akira. Futaba, on the other
hand, looked at him with a frown, before ultimately trudging up to the counter
and pulling herself into the seat closest to the coffee makers. She laid her
head on the counter without saying anything. 
“Ah, there you are, Kurusu. And…” Akechi tilted his head to look sideways at
Futaba, “You must be Futaba-chan, right? I’m–”
“I know who you are,” Futaba said flatly, before he could get another word out.
She had a blank look on her face, not particularly friendly, but not
antagonistic, either. Rather, she seemed very tired.
“Ah… I suppose you would,” Akechi said, his voice a little deflated. “Um…
Kurusu-kun told me that your cat had gone missing. I’m terribly sorry.”
“Yeah,” Futaba pulled her arms up onto the counter so she could use them like a
pillow. “I hate this, Akira. I want everyone to stop fighting. And I want Mona
to come home…”
“I know. Me too,” Akira said. It was a depressingly vague reply, and it pained
Akira to realize that he didn’t have anything else to say. So he ambled behind
the counter and put on his apron, for lack of anything else to do.
“It might not be my place to say this,” Akechi said slowly, breaking their
awkward silence, “But it may help to consider disagreements in a positive
light. It means no one is afraid to say what they truly feel. A group that
never argues is a group where people are withholding their opinions for the
sake of stability.” Futaba blinked at him, and Akechi sighed. “Um, what I mean
is… if you’re confident in your friendship, you don’t need to worry about a
single fight,” he finished.
“…I guess so,” Futaba said, after a long consideration. She sounded uncertain,
but she picked her head up and sat a little straighter. “Hey Akira, would you
make me some curry?” she asked. Akira obliged, and at the prospect of food,
Futaba perked up significantly. She started chattering about regular Futaba
things, and after a couple of minutes she had banished her gloomy disposition
entirely. “Akiraaa," she chirped at one point, "Hero Defenders of Legend got
picked up for a fourth season! It was just announced today! I'm crazy excited.”
“Oh, you like HDL?” Akechi asked suddenly, his face brightening. “I was finally
able to finish watching season three a few weeks ago. I know it’s been out for
a while, but I was so busy…”
Futaba stared at him with narrowed eyes. “…YOU like HDL?” she repeated back to
him.
“O-oh, um…” Akechi stammered, rubbing the back of his head. “Well, I just – I
enjoy science fiction, and I had heard favorable things about it online, and
so…”
Futaba’s eyes lit up, and she turned in her seat to stare at him. “Who’s your
favorite character? Did you like season three? What do you think about–”
Akira lost track of their conversation while he was cooking, but from what he
could tell, Futaba and Akechi both looked remarkably animated. In fact, their
conversation only lulled when the curry was finished and Akira had brought them
their plates. After some time and a good deal of curry, Akira noticed Futaba
was staring at Akechi.
“…not so bad,” Futaba mumbled into her spoon.
Akechi looked up, almost unsure if the remark had even been directed towards
him. “I-I’m sorry? I didn’t quite catch that.”
“I said, you’re not so bad,” Futaba repeated, crossing her arms. “You seem
totally stuck up on TV, but if you like Hero Defenders of Legend, I guess you
can’t be that bad. And, um…” Futaba looked up at him briefly. “I think you’re
right. About the fight, I mean. So thanks.”
"Ah... you're quite welcome," Akechi said, after deciding that she did indeed
mean to compliment him. The three of them passed the rest of their evening
together, eating and talking casually about one thing or another, and Akira
found himself contemplating Chihaya's words once again. It was just so hard to
believe that his future was headed towards the sort of despair that she had
described when he was sitting in a warm cafe with good friends and good food -
even if he accounted for the fighting among the Thieves right now.
At the same time, though, Akira had to admit... he hadn't seen Chihaya's
fortunes fail to predict the truth yet. Not even once.
***** October I *****
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
Akira had always liked October, when the weather became more agreeable and most
of the bugs had decided to fuck off for the rest of the year, and it was this
residual good will towards the month that kept Akira from losing his mind.
Between dungeon crawling, mediating his friends’ conversations, and the looming
threat of finals, it was not a particularly cheery time for Akira.
Not helping matters was the day that Ann pulled Akira aside after school
insisted he go see Takemi for a check-up.
“You’ve been in a funk for weeks,” she said – not false, but still – “and how
do you know you don’t have like, a secret cold or a parasite or something?” –
Akira politely informed her that that was extremely unlikely – “Oh, and Makoto
says we have to go get flu shots.”
There was no arguing with Makoto, and so one afternoon Ann and Akira found
themselves sitting in the examination room at Takemi’s clinic.
Takemi herself was leaning back in her chair, her legs propped up on her desk.
She had administered the flu shots as efficiently and unsympathetically as
Akira had come to expect from her, and once they were finished, she lazily
turned her eye towards Akira and Ann.
“So, tell me what’s been going on,” she said.
“U-um, well,” – this was Ann’s first time visiting Takemi in-person, instead of
just hearing about her second hand from Akira, and all things considered she
was taking it rather well – “I’ve noticed that Akira seems really out of it.
Like, his reaction time is slowed or something? Or he’s seemed really absent-
minded?” Ann trailed off and gave Akira a pained glance. “…Uh, Akira? How have
you been?”
Akira stared blankly at Ann. ‘This was your idea, not mine,’ is what he wanted
to say, but instead he settled for, “I’m fine. Mostly fine.”
Takemi raised an eyebrow. “Mostly?” she repeated.
“Didn’t sleep well last night,” Akira clarified.
“Is something on your mind?” Takemi asked, and Akira made an affirmative noise
instead of answering outright. “Something within your control, or out of your
control?”
Dozens of things came to mind: the future of the Phantom Thieves, for one,
given the events of the past few weeks; the pitying look Chihaya would give
him, which only brought back memories of that haunting fortune; the lurching
mix of guilt and joy he kept experiencing whenever he was with Akechi…
“Both. Or, well… out of my control, I guess,” Akira said.
“Hmm,” Takemi tapped her clipboard thoughtfully, before swiveling her chair
around to face Akira and Ann. “Based on the symptoms you’ve described, I have
to diagnose you with a severe bout of lovesickness.”
“What? Lovesickness? I-is that even real?” Ann exclaimed. Akira, meanwhile,
stared pitifully at Takemi. As if he should have expected anything else from
her.
Takemi hummed in amusement. “Only kidding, of course,” she said, her eyes
sparkling, a look Akira found all too familiar. “But honestly – absent-
mindedness, lack of focus, feelings restless – I mean, who wouldn’t come to
that conclusion?”
“Uh, well… I guess?” Ann sounded like she was trying to decide whether or not
Takemi had forged her medical license.
“Listen,” Takemi said, turning to face Akira directly. “Physically, you’re
perfectly healthy. Make sure you’re getting enough sleep and drinking enough
water. If you’re still having trouble focusing in a couple of weeks, I can put
you in touch with someone who can help. And don’t overdo it with the medicine,
okay?”
“I got it,” Akira said. He sounded a little more sarcastic than he intended, so
he quickly added, “Thanks, Doc.”
“Of course,” Takemi replied. She seemed perfectly unfazed by his momentary
slip-up, although she was starting to grin a familiar grin. “I’m always happy
to make sure my favorite guinea pig is in top condition.”
“Guinea pig?” Ann repeated.
“Don’t worry about it,” Akira said quickly, taking Ann by the shoulders and
marching her out of the office, thanking Takemi and waving goodbye as he did.
Ann protested briefly but ultimately allowed Akira to lead her away.
Once they were outside, Akira let go of Ann, and he mumbled a quiet “Sorry
about that.”
“It’s fine,” Ann said, and she took a moment to brush off her shoulders,
smoothing out the wrinkles in her shirt sleeve. “W-well… if the doctor says
you’re healthy, then I guess you’re okay.” She said, sighing. “But umm…”
Ann trailed off. She was twirling the tip of one of her ponytails idly, doing
her best to look casual. Akira frowned. “What is it?”
“Well, was she right?” Ann asked. When Akira looked at her with a blank stare,
she huffed and stamped her foot a little. “Akiraaa! Do you have a crush? Is
that what’s been distracting you?”
“Oh,” Akira said. Very briefly, he considered the merits of letting Ann know
about his newly formed relationship with the biggest Phantom Thieves detractor
in the country. She was probably the one least likely to disapprove, but the
lump in his throat made him think twice. “No.”
“Hmm…” Ann looked at him, disbelief clear in her eyes. “Well, okay. But Akira,
you know you can tell me anything, right? You can trust me. It’s like… honor
among thieves, or whatever.” She reached out and patted him on the shoulder,
giving him a gentle, friendly squeeze.
Akira smiled. He knew that, of course, but in light of everything going on
recently, it was quite nice to hear. “I know. Thanks, Ann.”
 
===============================================================================
 
It was already getting dark by the time Akira got back to Leblanc – it wasn’t
late, but the sky was dark grey with storm clouds, blotting out the setting
sun. He hurried inside right as he started to feel raindrops. Then Sojiro threw
an apron at his face and relegated him to dish duty for the rest of the
evening, and Akira didn’t even bother to argue. It was monotonous and
occasionally gross, but it was kind of nice, in a Zen sort of way; it gave him
time to be alone with his thoughts.
Akira was jolted out of his dish-reverie by the door chime sounding. The rain
had kept almost everyone away, and it was just about closing time anyway.
Sojiro turned around, frowning and ready to chastise a customer who would walk
into a café five minutes before closing, but then he said, “Oh, it’s you.”
A very damp Akechi was standing in the doorway. “I apologize for the
intrusion,” he said, bowing his head slightly towards Sojiro, and flinging a
few raindrops to the floor in the process.
“It’s fine, it’s fine,” Sojiro sighed, waving his hand dismissively. “Come in.
You should at least wait out the storm. Uh, for whatever good it’ll do you,” he
added.
Akechi gave a half-hearted smile. “The offer is much appreciated,” he said, and
he took a seat at the counter while Akira busied himself helping Sojiro close
up shop.
It wasn’t long before Sojiro retired to the Sakura household and Akira and
Akechi alone.
Akira stepped out from around the counter, pulling off his apron and tossing it
onto some shelf. “Sorry about the rain,” he said.
Akechi laughed, barely. “As if it’s your fault.”
Akira took a moment to look at Akechi; he was still dripping wet, his head and
his shoulders especially, and the bottoms of his slacks, but it seemed like he
had not made any attempt to dry off. He had a decidedly melancholy look at his
face.
Akira sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Look, you’re – c’mon,” he said,
motioning for Akechi to follow him, “Let me get you a towel. You’ve gotta be
miserable.”
At first, he wasn’t sure Akechi was going to listen to him, but then he pushed
away from the counter and stood up. He seemed unsteady on his feet.
“What, did you lose your umbrella?” Akira asked while they were walking up the
stairs, in what he hoped was a casual and light-hearted tone. It earned him a
tiny pity smile from Akechi.
“I just forgot,” he said. His voice sounded a bit strained, like he had been
talking all day. “I’ve had a lot on my mind recently.”
‘I can relate.’
“I can relate,” Akira said dryly.
Once they were upstairs, Akira found one of his clean bath towels and tossed it
to Akechi, who fumbled slightly but managed to catch it just fine, and he set
to work patting his hair dry.
“So…” Akira started, “Not that I mind, but what brings you here so late?”
Akechi shrugged, taking the towel in his hands and folding it loosely. “Nothing
in particular. I just found my apartment to be somewhat stifling this evening.”
This was a particularly bad lie for someone who was usually exceptionally good
at hiding his intentions behind a pleasant smile and a natural tone of voice.
Rather, it wasn’t a lie, but it was absolutely not the entire story. Though
realizing this wasn’t much help, as Akechi decidedly did not wear his heart on
his sleeve.
“You live alone, right?” Akira asked.
“Mm,” Akechi nodded. He was curt and he refused to elaborate, and that alone
told Akira plenty.
Then they lapsed into silence, standing awkwardly a few feet apart in the
middle of Akira’s room. A distant clap of thunder rumbled through the air.
Akira looked at the towel in Akechi’s hands, and then he closed the distance
between them, grabbing Akechi’s shirt collar, and began to undo his tie.
Akechi jumped a bit at the sudden movement, or maybe the sudden closeness, and
it made him drop the towel. “Ah—K-Kurusu?” he stammered.
Akira lowered his eyes, tried to ignore the heat in his cheeks. “Your shirt is
still soaked,” he said quietly. “At least let me lend you some dry clothes,
okay?”
He didn’t look up, but he could feel Akechi nod. Akira pulled Akechi’s tie
loose and placed it gently on the ground, and then he started on the buttons.
‘He could do this himself…’ A small part of Akira’s brain told him, and he
thought back, ‘Then why doesn’t he stop me?’
He did not have an answer.
Akechi, however, did.
“I wanted to see you,” Akechi said, right as Akira was moving on to his second-
to-last button. Akira looked up. Akechi’s face was deeply flushed, and his hair
was sticking to his forehead.
“Huh?” Akira said, and he imagined he looked about as dumb as he sounded.
“That’s why I’m here,” Akechi said. Akira noticed he was trembling – when had
that started? The rain could have made him cold, but…
“You – you could have texted me,” Akira said. He had temporarily forgotten his
task, still holding Akechi loosely by the edge of his shirt, “I could have
brought you an umbrella…”
Akechi gave a tiny, very bitter smile. “I was… worried you would say no,”
Akechi said. He gave a self-depreciating smirk. “I guess it was foolish of me.”
Akira blinked at him. “Yeah,” he said, shaking his head slowly. “Don’t worry
about things like that,” he added, and then he seemed to remember what he was
doing, remembered that – oh right, Akechi had walked here in the rain, without
an umbrella…
Akira could see goosebumps dotting Akechi’s skin. “You’re cold,” he said. “I
should –”
“I’m not.”
Akira looked up again. The smirk had left Akechi’s face, leaving him looking
quite serious. “What do you mean?” Akira asked.
“I’m not cold,” Akechi repeated. He leaned forward, just slightly, and pressed
his forehead to Akira’s. “You see?”
His hair was still a bit damp and cool, but Akechi wasn’t wrong; his skin felt
warm. Akira did not fully process this, however, because his heart had jumped
up and was currently beating in his throat.
“Ah,” Akira managed to say. “You’re right.”
When he raised his eyes, he found Akechi already looking back at him. It seemed
that the atmosphere in the room had shifted quite suddenly, like the moment
before a lightning storm, with the promise of electricity crackling in the air.
Akira opened his mouth and couldn’t think of anything to say.
Then something brushed against his arm and he flinched, until he heard Akechi
laugh softly and he realized it was Akechi’s gloved fingers, delicately running
over Akira’s arm.
“Are you sure you aren’t the cold one?” Akechi asked. “You’re shivering.”
Akira let out a quick, shaky breath.
For a moment, Akira forgot about the Phantom Thieves. He ignored the fact that
Akechi was his rival – maybe even his enemy – no; he pushed those troubled
thoughts to the back of his mind. For a moment, Akira was normal again, no
criminal record, no weird powers, no important destiny.
His October had not been particularly great up thus far. But there was always a
silver lining.
Akira curled his hand behind Akechi’s neck and pulled him into a kiss, quicker
than he meant to, crushing their lips together. He heard Akechi sigh and felt
his fingers curl around Akira’s arm, pulling them closer, and it seemed that
Akechi didn’t mind the rough start at all, because he was moving his lips
against Akira’s, quick and eager.
Akira felt Akechi wrap his free hand around the back of his neck, threading his
fingers through Akira’s thick, curly hair, twisting strands around his fingers,
tugging gently, and every pull felt like a little spark to Akira. Akechi’s
touches were nothing but sparks, sparks that ran straight through Akira’s bones
and settled in his core.
It was all he could do not to sigh into their kiss. Instead he opened his
mouth, just slightly, inviting Akechi to nip at Akira’s lower lip, and this
time Akira really couldn’t stop from giving a low, breathy groan.
Then Akechi pulled back, and Akira briefly wondered if he had made a mistake,
but Akechi took a step backwards, pulling Akira by the arm, towards the futon.
Akira walked forward like a zombie, one foot in front of the other, until he
was kneeling down onto his bed with Akechi lying beneath him.
It wasn’t as obvious while he was standing, but as he lay down, Akira became
acutely aware of his own arousal, and he let out another soft groan right as
Akechi leaned up and captured Akira’s lips again. He carefully positioned
himself so he was straddling Akechi’s legs and then he pushed his hips up
against Akechi’s experimentally – and god, he could feel Akechi hard against
him, too, and Akechi pushed right back, desperate for attention.
Akira’s hands wandered to Akechi’s chest, and he realized he had never finished
unbuttoning Akechi’s shirt. This seemed a much graver mistake now than it had
earlier, and Akira fumbled with the last two buttons as quickly as he was able.
Akechi pulled back, just a bit. “Not fair,” he said, his lips brushing against
Akira’s with each word, and before Akira had a chance to ask what exactly
wasn’t fair, Akechi had slid his hands under the hem of Akira’s shirt and was
pushing it up his chest.
Akira laughed and pulled his shirt up and over his shoulders and tossed it
unceremoniously to the floor. Then he pulled Akechi close, bringing their
bodies flush against each other so he could relish the sensation of skin-on-
skin contact. He nuzzled against Akechi’s neck, lips pressing softly against
his skin, and then, sucking on a particularly soft spot just below Akechi’s
jaw.
He heard Akechi stifle a moan, and Akira felt another pulse of arousal run
through him.
God, Akechi was impossible. He was too much.
He could feel Akechi’s lips on his neck, kissing up along his jawbone, and
Akira turned to meet him. Akechi kissed him with an open mouth, nudging his
tongue against Akira’s lips and then, when Akira opened up for him, sliding his
tongue against Akira’s, which was weird and slippery and wonderful. Akira
rolled his hips again and again, needy and wanting.
Akechi broke away, gasping for breath, his lips wet and parted, and he met
Akira’s gaze. “I–” He began, voice cracking just a bit; he cleared his throat,
and tried again, “Could I…?”
He didn’t finish his sentence, but that didn’t stop Akira from immediately
answering, “Yes.” And then, just to clarify, he added, “Anything.”
He heard Akechi huff, amused. “Very bold of you,” he said. He sat up and gently
nudged Akira back until he was laying flat on the bed. Then he traced his
fingers over Akira’s chest, leaving Akira shivering from his touch. “I’ll have
to test that sometime.”
‘God, please,'  Akira thought.
Akechi took his time, winding his way down Akira’s body, achingly slow. Akira
flexed his hips, trying to steal a bit of friction from the air, trying to
force Akechi to move faster. Soon Akechi’s hands were on his thighs, and then
he pressed his palm against Akira’s length, and Akira all but whimpered; the
jolt of pleasure that surged through his body was deliciously warm. At last
Akechi took care of Akira’s zipper, nudging his pants down his hips.
Haa—
Akira’s breath caught in his throat when Akechi pulled his boxers down and the
cool air hit him. He was breathless, his head was getting fuzzy; it was so
overwhelming. He was already impossibly hard just from the sight of Akechi
between his thighs, and when Akechi slowed dipped down, mouthing over the head
of his cock, it was–
“Akechi,” Akira moaned, right as Akechi took Akira into his mouth. Now Akira
really did feel like a bundle of nerves, tremors running through his whole body
to the point that he wasn’t sure he could fully process what was happening.
What Akechi lacked in coordination he made up for with enthusiasm; he moved his
head in a clumsy rhythm over Akira’s length, but his mouth was tight and wet
and so warm that Akira thought he would melt into him. His hips were moving
without his command, shallow thrusts, impossible to control, like his body was
begging for more.
Akira stared down his body, watching Akechi’s head bobbing between his thighs.
“Akechi,” He gasped again, and he got Akechi to look up at him. He smirked
around Akira’s cock and plunged his head down, taking Akira far deeper than he
had before and pulling a guttural moan from Akira’s throat.
“Akechi…” Akira loved saying his name, loved reminding himself that this was
real and happening and that Akechi was the one responsible for the pressure
building up in his core.
“I– ”
Akechi swiped his tongue across the tip of Akira’s cock, sending another surge
of pleasure through his limbs.
“I’m close, god –”
Akechi held Akira close and Akira couldn’t help but come into Akechi’s mouth,
his hips still writhing jerkily as he rode out his orgasm. He faintly heard
Akechi splutter, nearly gagging, trying to keep his mouth locked around Akira,
and as he was coming back to his senses, he heard Akechi say something.
“I-I’m sorry? I didn’t expect it—“
Akira pulled himself upright. His whole body was trembling, little shocks of
pleasure still rippling through his body. He was finally able to see Akechi
clearly; his eyes were wide, his face flushed, lips swollen, Akira’s come
running down his chin – and it was too much, too, too much for Akira to handle.
He surged forward and took Akechi’s face in his hands, kissing him.
“You were,” Akira managed to say, “so good. So good,” he said, continuing to
press his mouth against Akechi’s, kissing away the mess around his lips.
“Akira,” Akechi pulled back, whispering against Akira’s mouth. “Akira,” he
almost whimpered, “Please...”
His eyes were shut tight – he was embarrassed. God that was so fucking cute.
Akira was happy to oblige, and he pushed Akechi onto his back, pressing his
palm against the crotch of Akechi’s slacks, feeling out his hardness. Akechi
stifled a moan as soon as Akira made contact and Akira felt his own cock
twitch.
Undoing Akechi’s belt was a surprisingly difficult task for Akira, whose
fingers were shaky and prone to tremors, but his want drove his determination
and soon he had Akechi’s pants pushed down around his ankles.
When Akira released Akechi’s length, Akechi let out a long, shuddering breath.
Akira took him into his mouth, swirling his tongue around the head, and Akechi
made a choked moan.
It was a wonderful noise, and one Akira definitely wanted to hear again, but he
couldn’t see Akechi from here, and he found himself desperate to learn what
kind of expressions Akechi could make. So with one hand, Akira gripped Akechi’s
cock, hard and hot and slick with spit and pre-come, and he maneuvered himself
up until he was lying next to Akechi.
Akira whispered, “Look at me.”
Akechi locked eyes with Akira. His lips were parted, and he was breathing in
heavy gasps. It was the most disheveled Akira had ever seen Akechi; he could
only hope to see him like this again. Then Akira started to move his hand,
slowly, as if he was touching himself, and Akechi’s eyes fluttered closed.
“Aah…" Akechi gasped, thrusting up into Akira’s hand.
Akira only had a vague idea of what he should be doing, but every so often
Akechi would make a soft little breathy moan and Akira just knew he wanted to
hear more of that.
“God, Akechi…” Akira sighed, dipping down to suck on Akechi’s neck, tonguing
against sensitive skin. Akechi was holding tightly to Akira, fingers digging
into his back.
“A-Akira…” Akechi said, his voice raspy and low. “Already, I’m–”
“Look at me.”
Akira wouldn’t let Akechi look away. He wanted to see the moment Akechi came.
Akechi made a desperate, mewling sound, and clapped a hand over his mouth.
Akira batted his hand away and covered Akechi’s mouth with his own lips
instead. Then Akechi was gasping into his mouth, his hips jerking wildly as
Akira pumped him through his orgasm, his come spilling out onto Akira’s hand.
In time, Akechi loosened his grip on Akira’s back and started to relax against
the futon. Akira continued to stroke Akechi slowly, languidly, letting Akechi
catch his breath. For a time they just stared at each other, listening to the
silence. Outside, the rain was still falling, slower now but still steady,
pattering softly against the window pane.
After a moment, Akechi looked to the side and said, “The towel…”
Akira tilted his head. “Hmm?”
“On the floor,” Akechi said. He stretched his arm out, pointing towards the
discarded cloth he had been using earlier that evening.
“Oh, right,” Akira said. He got to his feet and snatched the towel off the
floor. He wiped off his hand and then walked back to the futon, handing the
towel off to Akechi so he could clean up.
Akira’s brain was sleepy, but something stuck out to him, something he
remembered. “You called me Akira.”
Akechi looked up, his eyes widening a little. “Ah? I suppose I did,” he said.
“…Is that okay?”
“Can I call you Goro?” Akira asked.
“Uh, um… if you’d like…?”
“I would very much like,” Akira said, flopping back onto the futon, closing his
eyes. He smiled. Sleepy contentment was seeping into his bones.
Akechi looked up towards the windows. “It’s getting late,” he commented. “Looks
like I won’t be able to avoid the rain.”
“You don’t have to leave,” Akira said.
“I couldn’t impose,” Akechi said, in the same tone of voice that one might use
to politely decline a dinner invitation.
“You wouldn’t,” Akira said. He opened his eyes, looking up at Akechi. “Please,
stay.”
“You don’t want that,” he said. He did not sound confident.
“I do,” Akira replied. He sat up, placed a hand on Akechi’s shoulder and made
him turn, made him look Akira in the eye. “I really would like you to stay with
me, Goro.” He heard Akechi’s breath catch. “But only if you want to,” Akira
added.
The silence that followed was so heavy that Akira very nearly retracted his
request, when at last,
“Then I’d like to stay,” Akechi said. “If I may.”
“Of course you can.”
Akira finally did make good on his promise of giving Akechi some dry clothes,
and he hung the still-damp garments up, with the hope they’d be dry in the
morning. They ended up on the futon, bodies pressed together and arms awkwardly
bent so that neither was in danger of falling off.
Akechi sighed and allowed himself to relax into the futon, and into Akira’s
touch. “Thank you, Akira-kun… truly,” he murmured.
“What for?” Akira asked, talking into his pillow.
Akechi gave a sleepy little laugh, and shook his head. “Don’t worry about it.”
Akira decided to let it go; he could hardly keep his eyes open, anyway.
 
===============================================================================
 
Akira drifted off with relative ease, and though his sleep was perfectly
fitful, he still found himself roused awake at an unusual time. It was
exceptionally dark and it took Akira a moment to realize what was amiss: a
distinct lack of weight on the bed.
He could see the shadowy form of Akechi standing beside the futon, pulling on
his jacket. Akira stirred, gently rustling the blanket, and the noise caught
Akechi’s attention. “Ah, I’m sorry,” he said, in a hushed whisper. “I didn’t
want to wake you.”
“Didn’t hear an alarm…” Akira mumbled, groping around for his phone. It was
right around 4:00am.
Akechi hummed. “Would you believe that I wake up at this time every day?”
Akira blinked, his brain still foggy with sleep. “…nah.”
“Heh. Then you’d be correct,” Akechi said. Akira heard him sigh. “I was hoping
to slip out early, before Leblanc opens.”
Akira pulled himself out from under his blanket and swung his legs over the
edge of the futon. “You’re not staying?”
“Well, it wouldn’t do to have Sakura-san see me leaving,” Akechi said. “…you’d
have to tell another lie.”
Akira smirked. “You’re so considerate,” he said.
He could hear Akechi hum in amusement. As he started to pull himself out of
bed, Akechi quickly said, “Ah, you don’t need to get up. I can see myself out.”
Akira just shook his head. “Gotta lock up behind you. Boss’d be even more
suspicious of an unlocked door.”
“Ah, of course. I didn’t consider that.”
The pair crept down the stairs into Leblanc, which was as quiet and gloomy as
when they left it last night. They made their way to the door, Akira flipping
the latch, and just before Akechi stepped outside, he stopped and turned to
Akira.
“Thank you for letting me stay the night, Akira-kun,” Akechi said. And then,
slowly, “I hope it won’t be the last.”
It was strange, but the way Akechi spoke made it sound more like an omen than a
wish. But he didn’t have time to think on it; he needed to get back to sleep.
He was going to have a very busy couple of days coming up.
 
===============================================================================
 
“This is a new Renaissance for the Phantom Thieves!” Morgana declared, punching
his little cat fist in the air. “And we couldn’t have done it without you,
Haru!”
“I’m so thankful you all could help me. Truly, I am,” Haru said. Her eyes were
sparkling behind her mask; it was the happiest Akira had ever seen her. He had
nearly forgotten what it felt like to see the whole group in good spirits.
Watching the group succeed under his guidance was the purest form of pride
Akira had ever experienced.
“If you’ve said your piece to your father’s shadow, Haru,” Makoto said, “we
should go ahead and take our leave. The Palace should collapse any minute now.”
“Let’s all go get sushi!” Futaba suggested. “I’m hungry, and besides, we still
need to teach Haru all of our thief secrets!”
“If you’d have me, I’d love to spend some more time with everyone,” Haru said.
It was a unanimous decision. And really, after the successful mission, after
reconciling things with Morgana, after welcoming Haru into their group, they
were allowed to feel good about things, right?
Chattering all the way back, the Thieves did not notice Okumura’s shadow
crumple to the ground and dissolve, right behind their backs.
Chapter End Notes
     I'm very excited to get into the second half of the story, and I hope
     you all continue to enjoy! Your comments mean the world to me. :)
***** October II *****
Exams were, if nothing else, an equalizing force in the universe. Exams did not
care who you were or what you were going through. Exams simply were, and right
now, Akira could appreciate such a simple nuisance. Uncomplicated. There were
no surprises to be found here, except perhaps for the material he had skipped
during a last-minute marathon study session.
Trying to ignore the harsh buzz of the room’s fluorescent lights, Akira stared
at the paper in front of him. Please explain the history and purpose of the
guillotine.
The guillotine was a French execution device designed to kill people as
efficiently as possible.
Okumura’s Palace had been a guillotine, simple and unassuming until the blade
came down on Okumura and shut down his mind, and now the blade was dangling
above Akira’s neck, too. Overnight, the Phantom Thieves went from Internet
sensations to public enemy number one. It was such an efficient execution that
it must have been planned.
Akira tapped his pencil against his desk, agitated. He could sense Morgana
inside his desk, probably glaring daggers at Akira right now, trying to
silently compel him to focus on his exam.
“There’s no explanation other than that we’ve been set up. We have to
acknowledge that fact,” Makoto had said the night before.
It wasn’t something they were eager to admit. Who wanted to admit to being
successfully tricked? It was enough to make you question every thought you had.
Is this really what I want? Or has someone made me feel this way?
“The only question is how far back does the set-up run?” Yusuke had asked.
“And who set us up in the first place,” Futaba added.
“And why,” Morgana said.
In fact they had dozens of questions, and they were woefully short on answers.
The only thing everyone seemed to agree on was that there was another persona-
user running around somewhere. As for who that could be, the Thieves were
stumped.
Well, not all of the Thieves. Akira had an idea.
As it turned out, Morgana did, too.
After they had tossed out a few names, Morgana sighed audibly and motioned for
everyone’s attention. “Guys, I just thought of something. I kinda forgot about
it until now, but…”
Everyone waited. Morgana had certainly caught their attention.
“Akira, Ann, Ryuji,” Morgana had said, “Do you remember the first time we met
Akechi?”
“At the TV station? Sure,” Ann said.
Morgana nodded. “That day… I think he heard me talk.”
Akira had to fight to keep his face mildly curious, as if Morgana was telling
him something surprising and new. Inwardly, he felt like he had swallowed a
peach pit, heavy and hard, that was settling in stomach.
“For real?” Ryuji crossed his arms and leaned forward, eyes wide. “Wait, how?
Like, are you sure?”
“Something about what he said…” Morgana said, his eyes narrowed in thought.
“None of you said anything about Dome Town looking like a pancake. Right? It
was just me?”
Ann screwed up her face in confusion, and Ryuji just stared at him blankly.
Akira felt the pit in his stomach grow.
“No, I don’t think we– oh!” Ann gasped suddenly. “But Akechi said something
about pancakes, didn’t he?”
Morgana nodded.
“I think I get it…” Ryuji said. “You’re sayin’ he had to have heard you
talkin’, then?”
“Oh! And so if he could hear you talk, then he must have had a persona, right?”
Futaba suddenly chimed in. Now the room was quietly buzzing with excitement.
Yusuke hummed, tapping his chin thoughtfully. “So you think he could be the one
behind the mental shutdowns?”
“It’s a possibility,” Morgana said. “Like I said, I only just remembered this.
It’s nothing definite, but…”
This was actually exactly where Akira had expected this conversation to go. Not
where he’d hoped it would go, but where he expected. He took a deep breath to
steady his voice and said, “It might also be coincidental.”
To his surprise, Haru nodded. “Akira-kun is right,” she said. “I don’t think we
should jump to conclusions just yet. After all, I also had a persona before I
met you.”
“It IS suspicious, though,” Makoto said. She was frowning. “On the other hand…”
“Makoto?” Morgana asked.
“Well… if he DOES have a persona, he might be a useful source of information,”
she continued.
Little conversations were springing up all around the room now, either excited
or worried or some combination of the two. Akira kept his mouth shut. It was as
though the pit had sprouted a vine, and now it was curling around his ribcage,
squeezing his chest tight, threatening to climb up his neck and steal away his
breath. He felt ill.
“We have to be careful, though,” Yusuke said to the room at large. “If he is
indeed an enemy of ours, then pressing him for information could backfire.”
“I thought of that,” Makoto said, nodding in agreement. “But at this juncture…
we don’t really have any other leads, do we?”
This was another undeniable fact. With Okumura dead, they had no one to press
for information about the black-masked persona user. Only another person
familiar with the Meta-verse would be able to help them now, and the only
person like that was…
“Okay, so let’s try talking to Akechi,” Futaba said. “Uh, does anyone know how
to find him?”
“Well, he attends the same cram school as me,” Makoto began, “but he has been
absent more and more frequently. I’ve no way to guarantee I’d be able to catch
him. And even then, I’m not sure I could convince him to talk to us.” She
sighed.
Ryuji huffed. “Dude, he gets coffee at Leblanc like… all the time. Why don’t we
just corner him when he’s here?” he asked.
“Wouldn’t Boss think something weird was going on?” Ann asked.
Futaba made a noise of agreement. “Yeah, I don’t really want Sojiro to get
suspicious…”
“Couldn’t we just talk up here?” Yusuke suggested.
“Uh, okay, but how the hell’re we gonna get Akechi to come up here?” Ryuji
asked. “We don’t exactly know him.”
Akira swallowed hard, willing his voice to come out smooth and casual, like it
always was. “…I can do it,” he said.
The room quieted and the other Thieves exchanged glances, first with each other
and then with Akira himself. Akira sat up straight and met their eyes, one by
one, sweeping his gaze across the room. “If you think it’s the best thing to
do,” he continued, “then I can get him up here.”
“Don’t make it sound so ominous…” Ryuji muttered.
“Well, what do YOU think, Akira?” Ann asked. “You’re our leader, after all.”
Akira had been dreading that question. Even now, sitting at school, idly
answering test questions, the thought made his chest hurt. But Akira wasn’t an
idiot. It really was a sound plan – not the smartest, perhaps, but sound – and
it was their best bet if they wanted to learn anything new. Best case scenario,
Akechi would be unrelated to the mental shutdowns and willing to assist. Worst
case scenario…
“I think Morgana’s right,” Akira said finally. He squashed his selfish thoughts
and hid them away, and though he wasn’t able to look anyone in the eye, his
voice was strong and unwavering – commanding. Like it should be. “It would be
good to see if he knows anything,” he continued. “Besides, it’s my room. I’d be
the least suspicious.”
Akira had gone on to explain that he usually saw Akechi at Leblanc on Tuesdays
and Thursdays, a fact which Futaba backed up, and they had spent the rest of
the night brainstorming questions and tactics. Well, the Thieves spent the
night brainstorming; Akira had spent the rest of the night in a half-aware
haze, trying to process the clashing emotions swirling around in his brain.
He finished his exam with time to spare, but Akira just flipped the paper over
and set his head down on his desk. He ignored Morgana’s whispers to check his
work.
First Akira tried to convince himself that nothing lasted forever, so really,
this was inevitable. It was almost laughable how he had genuinely thought he’d
be able to pull off this kind of a double life with no consequences. With
Akechi investigating the Phantom Thieves, some kind of encounter was
inevitable.
He knew, somewhere in the back of his mind, that there was almost no chance
that anything he had with Akechi would survive the interrogation the other
Thieves had planned. So he tried to convince himself that it was nice while it
lasted, and it was time to move on.
Akira closed his eyes.
It had been too nice, so of course it couldn’t last. But he didn’t want to move
on.
 
===============================================================================
 
The next Tuesday had been a bust; the Thieves packed themselves up in Akira’s
room all afternoon, but Akechi was a no-show. Thursday, however, they had
better luck.
Yusuke was regaling the others with stories about what constituted ‘exams’ at
Kosei when Morgana – their designated scout – came dashing up the stairs.
“He’s here! He just sat down!” Morgana said, panting slightly.
“Is everyone ready?” Makoto asked. Everyone sat up, attentive and serious, and
Makoto nodded to Akira.
Akechi was in his usual spot at the bar. Sojiro had already served him, Akira
noted, and he nearly went right back upstairs. It would be rude to interrupt
him when he had barely started his drink, right?
Akira sighed. He hadn’t been this nervous to approach Akechi since the summer,
and this time there was no flutter of anticipation to temper his anxiety, just
a sickening dread.
Still, he forced himself to move, to take a long loop towards the bar so Akechi
would have a chance to catch Akira in his periphery vision, and that is
precisely what happened; Akechi turned his head just slightly to the left, and
a smile graced his face when he recognized Akira. He tilted his mug in Akira’s
direction as a greeting.
“Hey,” Akira said, leaning up against the counter next to Akechi. He continued
on before his brain had a chance to catch up with his mouth. “Would you come
upstairs with me for a bit?”
Akechi set his coffee down. “Certainly,” he said at once, and he began to get
out of his seat, looking up at Akira as he did. “Ah, your expression…” he said
slowly, and he smirked, just a bit. “This isn’t going where I want it to, is
it?”
Akira felt a blush coming on and he ran a hand through his hair, trying to will
it away. “Sorry,” he said. His voice sounded deflated.
Akechi laughed. “It’s fine. What can I help you with?”
Akira hesitated for a moment, idly playing with a tuft of his hair. He hadn’t
really given this next bit much thought. “My friends kind of… want to
interrogate you,” he said.
Akechi blinked. There was a distinct moment where his expression shifted from
confusion into something harder to place – it was the look of being caught
completely off-guard, like when your skates slip out from under you on an ice
rink – but only for a moment. “What on earth for?” he asked.
“I’m not…” Akira started, but he couldn’t bring himself to lie. “Listen, just…
don’t hate me, okay?”
Akechi regarded him with an intense stare – not angry, but suspicious – that
pierced Akira to his core and made him feel like he was bleeding out, but when
he started towards the stairs, Akechi followed.
They walked in silence, crested the stairs, and stepped into Akira’s room.
Everyone looked up and their chatter ceased as soon as the two boys appeared.
Akira froze once he reached the landing, but Akechi stepped into the room with
something close to confidence.
“Hello, everyone,” Akechi said. He had a perfectly unassuming smile on his
face. “I heard you’d like to interrogate me?”
For a moment, no one spoke, and then Ryuji let out a short breath and rubbed
his forehead. “Akira, dude…” he said.
“What?” Akira asked. He snapped out of his reverie and he strode into the room
as well, stopping beside Akechi. “I never said how I’d get him up here.”
“I guess… it doesn’t really matter,” Makoto said, sighing. “Would you care to
sit?” she asked, gesturing towards a single empty chair directly across the
table from where she was sitting.
Akechi took a moment to size up the room before he took the offered seat.
Akira, meanwhile, wound his way around the group, settling on an empty spot
behind Makoto’s shoulder where he could stand.
“Since Akira decided to go the blunt route, I suppose there’s no sense in
beating around the bush,” Makoto began. She stood up and braced her arms on the
table, directing the full force of her attention towards Akechi. “Akechi-kun.
We want you to tell us everything you know about the Meta-verse.”
Akechi blinked. His eyebrows were furrowed, just barely, and his mouth formed a
thin frown. “I’m sorry, Niijima-chan… I have to admit, I have no idea what
you’re talking about.”
Makoto was undeterred. “I believe you do,” she said. “You know about Morgana,
don’t you?”
“Kurusu’s cat?” Akechi asked. “I know of him, yes.”
Morgana, who had been sitting on the floor out of sight, suddenly leapt onto
the table. “Don’t lie! You’re able to hear me!” he said.
Akechi jumped slightly in his chair, his eyes widening just a touch. “O-oh, and
here he is?” he said, somewhat shaken.
Ryuji gave an accusatory yell. “Ha! There’s no way you would have reacted like
that if you couldn’t hear what he said.”
“You’re saying you wouldn’t be surprised if an animal suddenly jumped in front
of you?” Akechi asked, turning his attention to Ryuji, who opened his mouth to
retort.
“I… well…” Ryuji trailed off.
“Please!” Haru suddenly burst out, startling more than one of the other
Thieves. She pushed her way to Makoto’s side. “…My father is dead. If you know
anything about that place, you know why we can’t go to the police. I need to
know what happened… so please!” She leaned over the table and looked pleadingly
at Akechi. “If you know anything, please help us.”
This, more than anything else, seemed to resonate with Akechi. He averted his
gaze from Haru and placed his chin in his hand. “I… suppose I may know what
you’re talking about, actually. And I may be willing to help…” he slowly looked
up. His face was perfectly neutral, without a trace of either anger or
amusement, “If you’d be willing to admit to being the Phantom Thieves.”
His words fell like a heavy blanket over the room. Everyone was silent; Akira
could distantly hear the murmur of customers down in Leblanc.
Makoto’s mouth fell open, and she struggled to regain her air of authority. “I…
I don’t–” she began.
“I’m sorry to interrupt, but I don’t want to waste your time,” Akechi said,
pulling out a folder. He opened it and tossed it down onto the table. Dozens of
pictures spilled out. For the first time that night, Akira was genuinely
surprised. He saw a picture of himself invisible from the waist down, just a
torso floating in midair over the sidewalk, and the rest of the photos were
equally incriminating.
“Actually, I’m not sure why you’d ask me for information about that place,”
Akechi continued, his voice as soft and pleasant as always. “I’ve only known of
its existence since September. If anything, I should be asking you, not the
other way around, hmm?”
Akira thought things could not possibly get any worse than they already were,
and yet, here they were. He didn’t particularly understand the meaning of the
phrase ‘you could cut the tension with a knife’ until he was standing right
here, suffocating in his attic. Someone was talking – Ann, maybe – but Akira
couldn’t hear them.
‘Damn it, Goro.’
“Akira?”
He snapped back to attention and noticed that most of the room was looking at
him. He turned to Makoto, who was the one who had spoken, and gave her a
questioning look.
“What… what should we…?” she trailed off. Akira wasn’t sure where the
conversation had gone – if it had gone anywhere at all – and so he said the
only thing he could think of.
“Yeah. You’re right,” Akira shifted in place, looking towards Akechi. “It’s
us.”
Around the room, Akira could hear gasps of surprise, even a few grumbles of
anger, but it wasn’t as though they could take back his words. For a split
second, Akechi looked up at Akira; Akechi’s eyes seemed distant, like a void.
Then Akechi closed his eyes and gave a little half-smile. “Thank you, Kurusu-
kun,” he said. “I appreciate your honesty.”
Akira wished he could say the same.
“Okay, so like… what do you even want from us?” Ann asked, leaning in from her
spot near the sofa. Her voice had a sharp bite to it.
“Please, I’m – I’m not interested in fighting with you,” Akechi said, holding
his hands up. He lowered his eyes. “There’s something I’d like to do, and I
would require your help. But given our history, I… assumed you wouldn’t be
willing to listen to me without sufficient motivation.”
“What are your demands?” Makoto asked.
Akechi frowned. “Niijima-chan… actually, I’m interested in triggering a change
of heart in Sae-san,” he said.
Makoto couldn’t hide her surprised gasp. “Sis…”
“Mm,” Akechi nodded. “You’ve noticed too, haven’t you?” he asked. “How Sae-san
has changed…”
“Is that true, Makoto?” Haru asked, placing her hand on Makoto’s shoulder.
Makoto took a moment to steady herself. “It is. I’ve known about Sis’s palace
for some time.” Her voice came out weak, a far cry from earlier. “I don’t know
when her palace formed, but I’ve noticed a significant change in her
disposition lately.” She paused for a moment. “Ever since she was assigned to
head up the Phantom Thieves investigation.”
“The higher-ups are pressuring Sae to make an arrest,” Akechi explained. He
took a deep breath and placed her hands on the table. “This is my proposal. I
know that you aren’t the people behind the mental shutdown cases,” he said, and
Akira raised an eyebrow. “That is why I’d like to work with you to change Sae-
san’s heart. I know this is a lot to ask of someone who has made a name for
himself opposing you, but…”
“All right,” Akira said. His voice sounded gravely, like he had just woken up
and wasn’t quite used to speaking again.
Several pairs of eyebrows shot up. “Wait, Akira–“
“Are you sure?”
“Any plan is better than no plan,” Akira said. He could tell the others were
hesitant, and it was possible he was abusing his position as leader a little
bit here, but it was better this than to sit and stagnate without a lead.
“Then I look forward to working with you,” Akechi said. He held out his hand,
which Akira accepted; it felt like shaking hands with a stranger. Then Akechi
excused himself, and left the Thieves to stew in awkward silence. Akira was
grateful for a moment to gather his thoughts.
“What the hell, man!” Ryuji barked, throwing his hands up. “How did we end up
bein’ the ones who got blackmailed here?”
Makoto stood up. “We… should take the evening to think about all this,” she
said. “We can regroup tomorrow after school. Is that okay with everyone?”
The group collectively agreed, and soon the only three left in the attic were
Akira, Morgana, and Futaba, who was sitting on Akira’s sofa, her legs pulled up
to her chest. Akira sighed, and Morgana looked up at him.
“Something on your mind, Akira?”
There was something on Akira’s mind, and it was burning a hole in his chest; he
hated that he had noticed something that should have been perfectly innocuous.
“Gor…” He bit his tongue and started again. “Akechi’s story doesn’t add up.”
“Ah, so you noticed too,” Morgana said.
Futaba frowned. “Noticed what?”
Akira didn’t say anything, so Morgana took the lead. “Well, if Akechi could
hear me talk back in June, but he claims he awoke to his persona in September…”
he said, trailing off.
“Oh. Ohhhh…” Futaba’s eyes opened big behind her glasses as realization hit
her. “You mean he’s lying about his persona?”
“When he got his persona, anyway,” Akira corrected. Not that it was a terribly
big difference; it was still a lie. “But the fact that he pretended not to have
a persona… does that necessarily mean anything?”
“Well, not by itself,” Morgana admitted. “But he’s definitely suspicious. So we
need to gather some more intel.”
At the word ‘intel’, Futaba perked up. “You want me to do something?” she
asked.
“That’s exactly right,” Morgana said, nodding. “For a celebrity, Akechi is
incredibly secretive. But if we could spy on him in some way…”
“So what, you want me to… bug his house or something?” Futaba asked.
“N-no!” Morgana exclaimed, his fur bristling up. “No, no. Isn’t that sort of
illegal?”
“Um, I mean…” Futaba shrugged, fiddling with a few strands of hair, “Honestly,
any kind of spying is probably going to be illegal, so…”
“Agh… well, I guess that’s unavoidable…” Morgana said. He looked at Akira.
“Akira? Do you have any ideas?”
Akira took a moment to respond. “I think bugging his house is a little
excessive.”
“We’re in agreement there…” Morgana said, sighing. “I was thinking more if we
could spy on his phone calls?”
“You really think that’s necessary?” Akira asked, and Morgana sighed.
“Akira…” he said. His voice was gentle now. “I’m sorry. I know this must be
hard for you. Harder than for the rest of us.”
For a brief moment, Akira thought his heart stopped.
“Oh yeah, you and him get along pretty well, right?” Futaba asked.
“Oh,” Akira said. His heart was beating again. “Yeah. We do.” He sighed.
“Sorry. I’ll try to keep my own feelings out of it.”
“It’s always hard to be emotionally removed from something like this,” Morgana
said solemnly. “It just means we need to gather concrete evidence. You never
know; we might be totally off-base.”
Futaba nodded. “The best way to find out is to bug his phone. Then we’ll know
for sure. Speaking of which... It’s not impossible, but I’d have to put
something directly on his phone..."
Surprisingly, Futaba did not sound worried. In fact, she sounded completely
giddy. “Oh?” Morgana asked, smiling. “Futaba, you sound like you have a plan.”
She grinned. “I’ve got an idea. It’s risky, but you’ve gotta make bold moves
sometimes, right?”
“Right!” Morgana agreed. “Okay Futaba, just let us know what we can do, okay?”
“Okay!” Futaba chirped. She leapt to her feet, her hands curling into fists.
“Ahh, I’m getting excited! I’m gonna go, okay? Byeee!”
Before Akira could say anything, she was bounding down the stairs and out of
sight.
 
===============================================================================
 
Akira had trouble getting to sleep that night. There was so much he didn’t say
– couldn’t say, not in front of everyone – and it was churning in his brain, no
matter how hard he tried to relax. It was late – almost after midnight – but
nonetheless he pulled out his phone and started at Akechi’s name for a little
while. What did he even want to say?
>>Akira: If it’s worth anything, I’m sorry.
He knew he didn’t owe Akechi an apology; if anything, it was the other way
around, since all of Akira’s secrets were out in the open now.
To his surprise, Akechi responded fairly quickly.
>>Goro: There’s no need to apologize.
>>Goro: After all, I’ve known you were a Phantom Thief for quite some time, and
I never said anything.
>>Goro: So I’d say I owe you an apology as well.
Akira felt a flutter in his stomach.
>>Akira: You’re not angry?
>>Goro: You’re stealing my lines again.
>>Goro: But no, I’m not. I understand why you didn’t say anything.
>>Goro: And I truly am glad to be working with you.
Ah, that’s right. Akira had barely even thought about it. How strange. He
assumed his two lives would cross at some point, but he hadn’t imagined they
would converge into one.
>>Akira: I can’t wait to see your costume.
>>Goro: Ha, that’s your first thought?
>>Goro: Well, I suppose it’s not quite fair that I already know your costume
when you don’t know mine, is it?
>>Akira: Extremely unfair.
>>Akira: You need to make it up to me.
>>Goro: Did you have something in mind?
>>Akira: I’m sure I could think of something.
>>Akira: Don’t forget, I’m your leader now.
>>Goro: I assure you, I am keenly aware of that fact.
Akira felt another flutter, a bit lower down this time. His phone buzzed again.
>>Goro: You’re certainly something.
>>Goro: A thief who fell for the detective working to bring him to justice.
Akira smirked.
>>Akira: Like you’re one to talk.
>>Akira: I wouldn’t have guessed you’d be into bad boys, Goro.
There was a longer pause after this text; Akira wished he could see the face
Akechi was making.
>>Goro: We’re quite the pair, aren’t we?
>>Akira:We certainly are.
Akira smiled. This was nice; it was almost like nothing had changed.
Nothing, except Akira knew Akechi was willfully lying to him now. He just
didn't know why.
***** November I *****
The first time Akira stepped into the Meta-verse alongside Akechi felt like a
surreal dream. Not only was Sae’s palace stunningly opulent – and quite the
departure from Sae’s shadow, who stood apart from the shiny, decadent casino
she commanded with her sharp lines and black clothing – but Akechi’s bright
white uniform and blood-red mask looked like something out of a faerie tale.
Fights felt even more tense than usual. No one disobeyed orders, of course, but
Akira could see the uneasy way the other Thieves interacted with Akechi; tiny
hesitations during a baton pass, or a flash of fear in their eyes when he
readied a spell, as if afraid he would turn his persona on them at any moment.
No one complained when Akira called for a rest day after their first
infiltration. The others were plenty tired, and Akira needed some time to clear
his head. As such, it was somewhat surprising when Futaba walked into Leblanc
the next day and made a beeline for Akira, who was lounging in one of Leblanc’s
booths, lazily glancing over a few textbooks.
She barely even greeted Sojiro in the process, and when she stopped in front of
Akira, she didn’t say anything. Instead, she pulled out her phone and quickly
typed something out. Akira felt his phone buzz.
>>Futaba: i need to talk to you and mona upstairs
She looked deadly serious. They quickly fumbled out an excuse for Sojiro, and
together they headed upstairs. Morgana, who had been napping on Akira’s sofa,
perked up when he heard them enter the attic.
“Futaba?” he asked, stifling a yawn. “What’s up?”
Futaba sat down on Akira’s sofa and pulled out her laptop. She seemed quite
restless, her fingers tapping against her leg incessantly while she waited for
her computer to boot up. “You know the job you gave me?” she asked.
“Oh! The bug?” Morgana asked. He hopped up onto the table and sat down right
beside her laptop, curling his tail around the screen. “Did you get something?”
Futaba nodded, and Akira hesitantly took a seat next to her. This, too, was a
surprise; he hadn’t expected to have results so quickly. It had barely been
over a week. Besides that, Futaba’s expression had him worried. Her face was
blank – no smile, no furrowed brow – a surprisingly good poker face, for
Futaba.
She pulled up a folder full of sound files, each labeled with a date and time.
The earliest was from the same day Futaba planted the bug – October 26th – and
the most recent was from earlier in the day. There were nearly two dozen files,
most of them less than a minute long.
“I didn’t want to show you anything until I was really, really sure,” Futaba
said. Her voice was notably strained. “There’s a few, but… I’m just gonna play
this one.”

She picked a file that was labeled 10.27 – 22:34, one of the longer files. That
was the day after they had first scoped out Sae’s palace and decided on an
infiltration plan, as Akira recalled. The audio crackled to life:
[“Hello, Sir. I apologize for the late call, but I wanted to update you on
today’s events. I had to confront the Phantom Thieves a bit ahead of
schedule.”]
There was a pause in the recording; evidently, Futaba’s program was only able
to capture one half of the conversation.
[“…No, it’s fine. It was unexpected, but it worked out quite well. They agreed
to allow me into the group.”]
Akira had learned about this, once. He tried to remember what Kawakami had said
about phone calls… that what you heard wasn’t anyone’s voice in particular,
just a digitized recreation of the syllables, but the listener would fill in
the blanks with their memories: the little cadences, verbal ticks – things that
you associated with the speaker.
[“Yes, we visited Sae-san’s palace for the first time the other day. Now that
I’ve had a chance to survey the layout, I believe it would be easy enough to
take a police force into her palace, provided they had a guide.”]
Akira’s heart sank; it was undoubtedly Akechi’s voice.
[“Yes. Sir, I did want to ask, are we still going with the original plan? The…
the staged suicide?”]
There was a lengthy pause in the recording. Akira felt needle-sharp pain
flickering over his skin.
[“Yes, I know the room. I was wondering, though– …no. Sir.” Akechi’s voice took
on a curt, formal tone. “I…” – he cleared his throat – “That is, I understand.
Once their leader is in custody, you can trust that I shall handle the rest.”]
The recording stopped abruptly. The silence it left felt particularly heavy.
“This is more serious than we thought,” Morgana said solemnly. “We’re going to
need to tell the others about this, and soon.”
“Mm,” Akira nodded, noncommittal. He felt leaden, arms heavy, thoughts
whirling. Wasn’t today supposed to have been about clearing his head?
“Akira, could you send a text out and see when everyone can meet?” Morgana
asked. “Today, if possible… or tomorrow, if we have to. We aren’t going to have
a lot of time…”
Morgana started to pester Futaba about the contents of the other audio files,
while Akira mechanically drafted a text and sent it out to the other Thieves.
In short order his phone was filled with replies, all promising to come to
Leblanc as soon as they could. Akira told Morgana and Futaba as such.
Morgana was already discussing strategies when Futaba suddenly piped up, “Hey,
Mona!” There was an unnaturally squeaky tone to her voice. “Go ahead downstairs
and wait for the others, okay? I wanna talk to Akira for a sec.”
Morgana fixed her with a look, and she gave him a sweet smile in return. He
shrugged – or did the cat-equivalent of a shrug – and trotted off downstairs,
leaving them alone.
Akira listened to the soft padding noise Morgana made as he walked down the
stairs, and slowly turned his eyes to Futaba. Unlike earlier, she was clearly
struggling to keep a straight face now; she was looking at the ground, her arms
clasped behind her back, with her eyebrows furrowed in thought. Silent seconds
ticked by.
“Futaba?” Akira asked, gently prompting her to go ahead and speak her mind.
“A-Akira… when I was tapping into Akechi’s calls, I decided to poke around on
his phone a little bit.” She paused, wincing hard, like she was bracing herself
for a physical blow. “And I… I saw his text messages with you.”
Oh.
Oh no.
Futaba looked up at him. To his surprise, her eyes were wet and glassy, like
she was trying not to cry. “I-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to pry – I just, I
thought that since we were spying on him it would be best to get as much
information as possible and I—”
“It’s okay, Futaba,” Akira interrupted, placing a hand on her shoulder. He was,
frankly, caught completely off-guard by her reaction; she seemed more worried
that she had to deliver bad news than anything else. “You did good,” he said.
The last bit of Futaba’s strength crumbled, and she threw herself onto Akira,
hugging him tightly. “I didn’t want it to be true!” she wailed. “I hoped we
were wrong so badly. Because then I wouldn’t have to tell you the truth. That
he was… was…”
“It’s not your fault, Futaba,” Akira said. He wrapped his arms around her,
gently rubbing her back. He felt like he was having an out of body experience,
but comforting Futaba was grounding him.
“I know, I know,” Futaba said. She was calming down now, sniffling just a
little in between her words. “I just… I don’t understand.” She wiped her eyes
dry and pulled back from Akira. “I’m sorry,” she said softly.
Akira sighed, and leaned back against the sofa cushions. “Yeah,” he said,
eventually. “Me too.”
 
===============================================================================
 
“You really think this plan is gonna work, Makoto?” Ryuji asked.
The Thieves had assembled with record speed, and within an hour they were all
crammed in Leblanc’s attic. Ryuji and Ann had stopped by the convenience store
on their way, purchasing an array of late-night snacks for their consumption
while they piled around Futaba’s laptop.
Futaba played the audio recording for the rest of the Thieves, to a mix of
shocked and furious reactions. They then laboriously poured through every audio
file on the computer – accompanied by plenty of commentary, of course – and
soon they had pieced together what they believed to be a complete picture of
Akechi’s master plan.
“I think it’s perfectly sound,” Makoto replied. “It’s risky, but…”
“Nah, it’s perfect.” Ann cut her off, waving her hand. “Like, he’s got this
whole plan, right? We’re just gonna let him do most of the work! That’s what
makes it so great.”
Yusuke took a moment to swallow a particularly large mouthful of instant
noodles, and said, “I believe the odds of the plan succeeding to be about one
to three.”
“Those aren’t good odds!” Morgana yelped. “I can’t believe you’d consider
putting our Leader in this kind of danger…”
“Ahh, Mona-chan!” Haru scooped up Morgana from the table and pushed him,
struggling, into her lap. “You have to be confident! Mistakes happen once you
start hesitating!”
“Haru-chan is right,” Makoto said. “As long as we act with conviction, we’ll
surely succeed. Right, Akira?”
Akira was only half paying attention. “Hmm? Ah, yeah. It’ll be fine,” he said.
“Whatever you say,” Ryuji said, with a clearly unconvinced sigh. He took a bite
of his food and then turned suddenly to Akira. “Hey, Akira,” he said, his tone
notably brighter, “you think Iwai would buy us some booze?”
“Probably.”
“Akira!” Makoto snapped. “And Ryuji – what does that have to do with anything?”
“Listen,” he said, pointing his chopsticks at Makoto, “If we don’t pull off
this plan perfectly, Joker might die, and then WE might die. And if I’m abouta
die, I wanna have tried alcohol at least once in my life. Okay?”
“We aren’t going to die!” Makoto retorted. Her hands were curled into fists.
“Right, right, sheesh!” Ryuji said, holding his hands up in innocence. “Then –
maybe I want to calm my nerves, okay? I hate thinkin’ about letting that son of
a bitch point a gun at Akira.”
“At his cognition of Akira,” Makoto chided.
“Yeah, if it works!” Ryuji countered, and at last Ann stepped in – literally,
physically got up in between them.
“Guys! Would you chill out?” she said. “Have some faith in Akira, geez.” Ann
crossed her arms, and leaned back in thought. “…Though, it wouldn’t be a bad
idea to have some kind of party before we have to do it. I’ve kinda got the
jitters thinking about it, too.”
“Right? That’s what I’m sayin’!” Ryuji grinned. Makoto just sighed and slumped
down onto the table.
“Guys, it’s after midnight,” Morgana said. “Let’s table things here for the
night, okay? The important thing is we’re all on the same page now.”
No one disagreed, and soon Akira found himself alone and laying flat on his
futon, arms wrapped tightly around his pillow, clutching it to his chest.
Morgana hopped up on the bed beside him. “Hey, are you okay?” he asked. Akira
was turned a dull, tired eye towards Morgana. “It’s about Akechi, right?”
“…yeah,” Akira mumbled into his pillow.
“You don’t hate him, do you,” Morgana said.
“No,” Akira replied, and to himself, he added, ‘practically the opposite at
this point.’
Morgana’s ears drooped. “Oh, Akira…” he said softly, curling up beside Akira’s
arm. “Hey, let’s get some sleep, okay? We can talk more in the morning.”
 
===============================================================================
 
Their next infiltration was… tense, to say the least. Despite Akira’s warnings
to act like they knew nothing, some of the Thieves were barely hiding their
resentment towards Akechi. The whole team was on edge for one reason or
another, and the shadows – strong and plentiful – were not helping matters.
In particular, Makoto’s reaction time was notably slower than usual, and after
she took a third physical blow directly to the face, Akira had her swap back to
the reserve team. Not without hesitation, he called Akechi to take her place.
He could feel Ann and Ryuji tense up when Akechi stepped into formation beside
them.
After one particular battle, Akira heard Ryuji mutter, “I don’t like this,”
under his breath.
“I know. I don’t like it either, but it’s the only choice we have,” Ann
whispered back.
“Besides, it’s the best place to keep an eye on him,” Morgana added, from his
spot by Ann’s feet. “If he tries something, our Leader can easily take him
down.”
Akira snuck a glance at Akechi, who was lagging a bit behind the main team. His
eyes were downcast.
Akira couldn’t wait to be done with this palace. The treasure couldn’t come
soon enough.
 
===============================================================================
 
It was early evening by the time the group left the Meta-verse and returned to
Yongen-Jaya and Leblanc. They gathered their things, said their goodbyes, and
were in the process of parting ways for the evening when Akira felt someone tap
his shoulder.
“Akira-kun,” It was Akechi, standing just to his right. “Could I have a moment
of your time?”
Futaba and Morgana exchanged a wary look, first with each other and then with
Akira, but he waved them off and motioned for Akechi to follow him outside.
They stopped a few feet away from Leblanc. “I… I’m sorry to trouble you with
this,” Akechi began. He refused to make eye contact with Akira, as if he was
simply standing next to Akira and speaking in his vicinity, rather than
speaking to him. “I don’t want to be alone tonight.”
Akira stared. Even accounting for the fact that they had just returned from a
lengthy trip in the Meta-verse, Akechi looked exhausted; to that end, Akira
could hardly remember the last time Akechi seemed perfectly well.
Akira felt something crawl down his spine. “Did something happen?” he asked.
“No,” Akechi said. He ground his shoe against the gravel, and then added,
“Well… sort of. It’s… difficult to explain.”
In the back of his mind, Akira considered the possibility that he was being
lured into a trap. But he liked to believe he could tell when Akechi was lying.
“Morgana…” Akira mused, casting a glance back at the café. He and Akechi had
gotten fairly lucky so far, but given recent developments, it was unlikely he’d
be able to shoo Morgana from his room for a whole night.
Without missing a beat, Akechi said, “I have an apartment.”
He volunteered that information so quickly and earnestly that Akira found
himself saying, “Wait for me,” and hurrying back into Leblanc before his brain
could catch up with his body. He breezed past Futaba and Sojiro, giving them
only a distracted wave, to go upstairs and gather a few necessities, which he
stuffed into his bag. He was back downstairs within a minute.
“Hey, Boss,” Akira said, slowing his pace and walking over to the counter. “I,
uh, I forgot to mention this earlier, but I’m not going to be home tonight.”
Sojiro gave him a deeply skeptical look. “I… my doctor asked me to help her
with a sleep study. I’ll be staying overnight at the clinic.”
“Huh, really? First I’ve heard of it…” Morgana said. Futaba nodded, and looked
curiously at Akira.
“Sleep study, huh? She’s not going to make you take any weird drugs or
anything, is she?” Sojiro asked.
Akira laughed in what he hoped was a casual and reassuring way. “No, she’s just
going to monitor my heart rate and my blood pressure, things like that… I just
have to be at the clinic, you know. Where the equipment is.”
“…well, okay. The clinic’s hardly far and I know Takemi well enough. She’s got
a good head,” Sojiro said. Akira felt a dozen pounds of weight leave his
shoulders.
“You know what that means, Mona? Sleepover at my house!” Futaba said,
cheerfully scooping Morgana up into her arms.
“Oh, come on!” Morgana yelped, struggling to escape Futaba’s grasp.
Akira swallowed the guilty feeling in his throat and left Leblanc. He found
Akechi waiting precisely where Akira left him, and when Akechi saw him coming,
he turned to lead the way to the train station.
A thought struck Akira while on the train, and he quickly pulled out his phone.
>>Akira: Hey, if anyone asks, I’m doing a sleep study for you tonight, okay?
>>Tae Takemi: Hmm, sounds like trouble to me.
>>Tae Takemi: Is this going to implicate me in any criminal wrongdoings?
>>Akira: No, nothing like that.
Akira hesitated for a moment. Well, Takemi had already figured out he was a
Phantom Thief, but she also wasn’t directly involved in this whole mess. Maybe,
for once, the truth would be okay…
>>Akira: I’m going to stay with my boyfriend tonight but we’re not really
public yet.
>>Akira: So I need an excuse.
>>Tae Takemi: So my diagnosis was right after all, hmm?
>>Tae Takemi: You are lovesick.
Akira sighed.
>>Akira: Nothing slips past you, Doc.
>>Tae Takemi: You’re right about that.
>>Tae Takemi: Very well, I’ll be your cover for tonight.

>>Tae Takemi: But you’ll owe me for this.
 
===============================================================================
 
They ended up at a small apartment complex somewhere just outside of Shibuya.
Akechi unlocked his door and stepped inside, flipping a light switch. “You can
set your things anywhere,” he said, setting his own case down on a circular
table just to the left of the door. Akira decided to follow suit.
Akechi’s apartment wasn’t particularly large, but it was nice enough for what a
single person could afford. The walls were painted a neutral beige, and they
were very sparsely decorated. From where he was standing, Akira could see a
mirror hanging on the wall to his right, but nothing else. The floor was a dark
stained wood, although – Akira shifted his weight, and felt the floor give just
a bit – it was likely laminate, not real wood.
There was a small kitchen just past the table on the left, and that was where
Akechi had gone. He was standing in front of the refrigerator, and Akira
followed him just in time to see Akechi slump his shoulders in defeat.
“I didn’t plan to have company today,” he said. “I’m sorry. I have nothing
prepared…”
Akira peered over Akechi’s shoulder and looked into the fridge. It was nowhere
near full, and there wasn’t much in the way of prepared food, but he had plenty
of ingredients; eggs, milk, a drawer full of green objects that Akira couldn’t
quite identify, and a wrapped packet of something that might have been meat.
There were no leftovers, and nothing looked remotely expired.
“Can I cook?” Akira asked.
Akechi looked at him. “…you’re my guest,” he protested, but there was no fight
in his voice.
“You’re letting me stay, so let me cook,” Akira said.
Though he seemed to be mentally wrestling with himself, Akechi relented. “Very
well. If you insist.”
Akira stooped down to survey the contents of the fridge more thoroughly, and
Akechi pulled a chair away from the table and dragged it into the kitchen, so
he could help Akira without getting in his way.
Akira made omelettes. It wasn’t exactly the best dinner food, but it was easy
and quick and – most importantly – Akechi had the ingredients. He cooked in
silence, and once it was ready, they took their food to the living room and sat
down side-by-side on a small grey sofa.
“Do you want to talk?” Akira asked.
Akechi shook his head. His lips were closed and pressed thin. Instead, they ate
quietly while it continued to grow dark outside. The only light was the
overhead light back in the kitchen, and Akechi did not seem inclined to turn on
a lamp, so they let the night creep into the living room.
Abruptly Akechi decided to stand up, startling Akira. He picked up his dinner
plate, and motioned to take Akira’s as well. “Ah… thank you. For cooking,” he
said, his voice coming out just a little shaky, as he took the plate from
Akira’s hands.
Akira watched him walk. Ever step seemed deliberate but labored, making his
footsteps feel heavy. When the dishes were properly stowed away, Akechi
returned to the living room, but instead of taking his seat again, he opened
the door across from the sofa where Akira was still sitting. He threw a look
back at Akira before he disappeared inside.
Akira sat still, staring at the tiny sliver of darkness the open door revealed.
Something was definitely wrong – yet, he didn’t get the sense that his life was
in danger.
Morgana would hate him for this.
Akira stood up, briskly crossed the room, and tapped on the door, which swung
open on silent hinges.
Akechi hadn’t turned on a light in this room, either, so Akira had to rely on
the leftover sunlight from the room’s single window for illumination. The only
things Akira could clearly identify were a bed underneath the window, and
Akechi standing a few feet in front of the door.
“I thought you might have decided to leave,” Akechi said. His voice was hardly
louder than a whisper, but the apartment was so quiet that Akira could hear him
loud and clear.
Akira gently pushed the door shut and stepped farther into the room. “Why would
I leave? I just got here,” he said, equally quiet – he couldn’t help but mimic
Akechi’s volume.
Akechi gave a short, hoarse laugh. “I wouldn’t have blamed you,” he said. “It’s
what I would have done.”
They were just about the same height, Akira noticed, with Akechi being maybe a
hair taller. “I don’t follow,” Akira said.
“It’s nothing,” Akechi said, and he didn’t elaborate any further.

The air in the room felt charged. It was familiar to Akira and it sent his
pulse racing again, and when he took a step closer, Akechi grabbed him by the
shirt, his hands curling into fists in the fabric. Akira shivered, and before
he knew it, he was being pulled into a forceful kiss, and even though he
anticipated this, he felt breathless, caught unaware.
There was no hesitation to the way Akechi moved, tugging Akira towards the bed
and toppling down onto the mattress alongside him. Akechi nipped at Akira’s
lower lip with his teeth, harder than Akira expected, almost painful, and held
tight to Akira’s hips, fingers digging into skin.
Even as he felt a shiver of heat course through his body, Akira couldn’t shake
the feeling from before, that something was wrong. There was something
desperate about the way Akechi moved; not desperate with want, but desperate
like someone trying to hold onto a semblance of normalcy.
Akechi pulled out of their kiss, breathing hard. “Don’t hold back with me,” he
said, his lips brushing against Akira’s mouth. His voice was breathy but firm,
like he was giving Akira a command.
Akira felt deeply uneasy, and tried to slow their pace. He took Akechi’s face
in both his hands and kissed him with a slow, languid energy, gently brushing
his tongue across Akechi’s lips.
Akechi growled somewhere low and deep in his throat, and pushed his hips hard
against Akira’s – who had to bite back a moan – before grabbing him roughly by
the shoulders and pushing him back, holding him at arm’s length.
“I said don’t hold back,” Akechi repeated. His voice was louder and sharp
around the edges now. “I know you can be rough, Akira, so show me!”
Akira felt a chill creep into his bones. He couldn’t see a trace of anything in
Akechi’s eyes. In the dim blue nightlight, Akechi looked ghastly pale, shadows
framing his face so that he was all but glaring at Akira.
Unbidden, a thought came to him: ‘This is my murderer.’
All at once, Akira straightened his back and hardened his eyes. “On your back,”
he said. He was surprised by his tone, sharp and commanding – Joker’s voice,
the voice he used when he was giving orders in battle – and it had an immediate
and obvious effect on Akechi, who gave a full-body shudder.
“On. Your back.” Akira repeated, nudging Akechi backwards onto the mattress and
clamoring up onto him, until he was straddling his waist.
For a moment, Akira just sat there, looking down at Akechi; breathless, shirt
unbuttoned and falling loosely to his sides, bracing himself on the futon with
both arms, just barely holding himself up. He looked up, dusty brown hair
mussed and falling in front of his eyes. A pang of guilt started to well up
inside Akira’s chest.
‘I don’t care…’
Akira dipped down and pressed his lips to Akechi’s neck, kissing gently.
“You’re beautiful,” he murmured. He heard Akechi’s breathing hitch with a
surprised and shuddering gasp, and he continued to trail soft kisses all along
Akechi’s collarbone, taking his time, rolling his hips gently against Akechi’s.
“You feel so good,” he said into Akechi’s neck.
Akechi pushed himself up so that he was nearly sitting. He was flushed, but the
sharp edges on his face were starting to soften. “A-Akira, what are you—?”
Akira took Akechi’s chin in his hand, brushing a thumb across his lip. “I want
to make you feel good, Goro,” he said.
Akechi’s eyes went wide. “Th… that’s not what I–”
Akira cut him off with a kiss. “I know,” he said. “I know. But, I just…” he
pressed another kiss against the corner of Akechi’s mouth, “I can’t. I’m
sorry.”
He couldn’t parse the look on Akechi’s face, and he didn’t want to try; Akira
worked his way down Akechi’s torso, his fingers fluttering over soft skin,
until he reached his belt, his hand hovering just over the clasp. He turned his
gaze towards Akechi again, who was watching him, wide-eyed. Akira did not have
to ask; Akechi simply nodded.
With a trembling hand, Akira tugged off Akechi’s belt and nudged his pants
down, then the thin fabric of his boxers, freeing Akechi’s cock. He wrapped his
hand around its base.
“Goro,” Akira managed to say. Akechi turned his eyes to him, one hand over his
mouth, one grasping the bed sheet, as Akira slowly took Akechi’s length into
his mouth.
He wanted Akechi to watch him.
He wanted to so thoroughly overwhelm Akechi’s senses that his brain would go
fuzzy, that he could forget whatever was troubling him, even if only for a few
minutes.
Akira could already taste pre-come, swiping his tongue delicately over the
head, before he sank down until he could hardly breathe, taking in as much of
Akechi as he could. Distantly, Akira could hear Akechi repeating his name in a
soft, breathy moan of a voice, and he started to move his hips, pushing into
Akira’s mouth.
Akira sighed through his nose, holding tight to Akechi’s thighs, matching the
pace of his hips.
‘Yes,’ Akira thought, his mind swimming, ‘yes, keep going.’
He tightened his lips and quickened his pace. He hoped Akechi’s mind had gone
blank, that the only things he could focus on now were Akira’s fingers against
his thighs and mouth around his cock. He was dizzy and breathless but he kept
up his pace, encouraged by the way Akechi was chanting his name, and by the
warm fluttering feeling in his chest.
Unexpectedly, Akechi’s hips snapped forward and he let out a moan, still very
much restrained but louder than any sound he had made that night, and he came
into Akira’s mouth. Akira held tight – he could cough later, he told himself;
he wasn’t going to choke – and sucked and swallowed until Akechi’s hips stopped
moving and came to rest on the bed.
Akira sat up, coughing surreptitiously into his hand to clear his throat.
Akechi was lying still, with one arm thrown up over his eyes. His breathing
still seemed labored – unexpectedly so – and he was making a quiet, choked-
sounding noise that took Akira a moment to identify.
Akechi was crying.
Akira thought his heart might stop. He scrambled up to Akechi’s side. “I’m
sorry,” he began immediately, but Akechi shook his head.
“Not you,” Akechi said quickly, taking a shaky breath. “J-just give me a
minute.” He sat up and let his arm fall to his side, rubbing his eyes with the
palm of his hand.
It was the second time in as many days that Akira thought he was dreaming. He
could hardly have imagined an Akechi this vulnerable, this close to falling
apart, and now here he was, leaning against Akira, desperately trying not to
cry.
“Why me?” Akechi asked suddenly, breaking Akira out of his reverie. He must
have had a blank look on his face, because Akechi clarified: “Why do you like
me, Akira?”
Ah.
“Because…” Akira began, turning until he could clearly look Akechi in the eye,
“You’re special to me.” It was hard to explain. Even after everything that had
come to light this past week, Akira still felt the same way about Akechi. He
knew it wasn't rational. But here he was. He reached out and brushed a hand
against Akechi's cheek, and said, “I couldn’t not love you.”
Akechi took a sharp breath. It seemed to be more than he could handle; Akira
felt something warm and wet hit his thumb.
He thought he had done enough talking for now, so Akira stayed quiet and
wrapped his arms around Akechi’s waist, pulling him close. After a moment – a
second, really – of hesitation, Akechi returned the hug and buried his head in
Akira’s shoulder, shaking, while hot tears rolled down his cheeks.
Even now, he was trying to save face. Akira pretended not to hear his sobs.
The deep blue shadows in the corners of the room grew long, swallowing the
walls, until Akira felt like he was floating in a void. He lost track of time.
All he could think of was: If he just knew who Akechi had been talking to in
those conversations… but he couldn’t just ask. If Akechi knew the Thieves were
spying on him, it might destroy any modicum of trust built up between them
until now.
Maybe, though, he could convince Akechi to ask for help. He wouldn’t have
believed it until now, but here, in this moment, it seemed possible.
At some point, Akechi’s breathing steadied and his composure returned, and he
lifted his head from Akira’s shoulder. “Damn it,” he said, bitter laughter
mingling with his choked sobs, “I didn’t want you to see…”
“Can’t see anything,” Akira replied. “Too dark.”
“Ha… damn it, Akira…” Akechi sighed, and at last a bit of life returned to his
voice. There was a flicker of a smile on his lips.
Akira felt his shoulders relax. "How do you feel?" he asked.
"I'm... tired," Akechi said. His head drooped down until his forehead was
resting against Akira's shoulder. "Akira... let's go to sleep."
 
===============================================================================
 
Akechi’s bed was fairly firm and a little larger than Akira’s futon, and it
smelled like clean linen and paper and sweat, just like the person lying next
to him. Akira was holding Akechi close, coaxing him into relaxing against
Akira's touch. His body felt warm and heavy and so comfortable, so perfectly at
home, that he could barely keep his eyes open for more than a minute. Right as
Akira began to doze off, however, he heard Akechi's voice.
“Akira?” 
Hazy with sleep, Akira managed to make a questioning sound. There was a long
moment of silence, and Akira was starting to wonder if he had just imagined
hearing something, when Akechi whispered,
“…don’t leave.”

He pushed himself closer to Akira, who in turn curled his arm around Akechi,
seeking out his hand and lacing their fingers together.
“I won’t,” Akira promised.
***** November II *****
When Akira woke up the next morning, he felt a distinct sense of déjà vu: he
was the only person currently occupying the bed. Thankfully, it didn’t seem to
be four in the morning this time, not judging by the light streaming in through
the window. He fumbled around for his phone and found it was just past 9:00am,
which meant he was quite late for school.
Akira panicked for a half-minute before he decided not to worry about it. He
hadn’t missed a single day since his probation started, so surely he had earned
one skip day by now. Instead, he allowed himself to wake up slowly, stretching
out his legs and yawning.
Now that it was light out, Akira took a moment to look around Akechi’s room.
Like the rest of the apartment, it was sparely decorated, but this room was
much more obviously lived-in. There were a few pieces of clothing scattered on
the floor, and a big wooden desk, covered in stacks of paper, pushed up against
the left wall. And considering it wasAkechi's apartment, it didn’t seem likely
that he had up and abandoned Akira, so now the question was finding out where
his companion had gone.
Akira was in the process of staring blankly into space and considering
hypothetical scenarios when he heard the faint sound of a door opening.
Somewhat reluctantly, Akira left the warm bed and made his way out into the
living room, where found Akechi shuffling through the front door with a large
bag in his hands. He was not only appropriately dressed to go outside, but he
seemed to have been awake for some time now. Comparatively, Akira felt
particularly disheveled, but still he moved towards the door, which at last
caught Akechi’s attention.
“Oh, good morning,” Akechi said, setting his bag down on the table near the
door. “Did I wake you?”
Akira shook his head. He looked curiously at the bag – up close, it was
obviously a restaurant’s take-out bag.
“I wanted to apologize,” Akechi said, gesturing towards the table, “for making
you cook, even though you were my guest. So I bought breakfast.”
“You don’t have to apologize for that,” Akira said, pulling out a chair and
sitting down. When the smell of hot food hit his nose, however, he added: “But
I do appreciate breakfast.”
“There’s a café down the street,” Akechi explained as he took his own seat,
“and I’ve become quite fond of their breakfast menu. There aren’t many
restaurants open this early around here.”
All in all, he had purchased two small containers of miso soup, a serving of
natto, a bowl of rice topped with several fried eggs, an assortment of baked
goods, and a pair of drinks that, upon a taste-test, seemed to be some kind of
fruit juice. It was a delightful selection.
As they served themselves, Akira tried to gauge Akechi’s mood. He seemed to be
in better spirits, at least, but his shoulders still looked stiff, and Akira
thought he saw an anxious crease in his forehead. Akechi lifted his eyes and
caught Akira staring, but to Akira surprise, he did not smirk or smile or
change expression at all; all he did was take a deep breath. “I also wanted to
apologize for my behavior last night,” he said slowly. “I –”
“Don’t. Don’t worry,” Akira said abruptly. He hated that Akechi felt compelled
to apologize, and for what? Getting overwhelmed? “...I want you to rely on me,”
he continued. “Okay?”
For once, Akechi did not protest or try to deflect Akira's words. He simply
closed his eyes, gave a small, closed-mouth smile, and said, “I'll try. Thank
you, Akira.”
Akira's heart fluttered and skipped. If there were any doubts remaining in his
mind, they evaporated the moment Akechi said those words. Combined with his
sincere smile, it was all Akira could do not to start spilling his secrets
right then and there.
A long-forgotten thought suddenly came back to Akira:
How do you get rid of a knot?
The simplest way forward was to cut the thread, completely eliminating the
knot. That was what the Thieves wanted to do. They were convinced that Akechi
was the one who had set them up for a fall – therefore, Akechi was their knot,
and naturally it would be best to simply cut him out of the picture entirely.
Yet if you deigned to cut around a knot, the rope would be ruined in the
process. The only thing left would be two small, useless scraps of cord. It
would become something impossible to repair. Akira did not want to throw away a
part of his life so callously. He would not pit the Thieves against Akechi nor
Akechi against the world; he would not play into that game.
It was tough, and sometimes painful, and sometimes it could take months, but if
he could find a way to get a solid foothold inside the knot and loosen it from
the inside, the knot could be removed and the rope would be left perfectly
intact.
Akira had his foothold. He could reach Akechi's heart; he could feel it.
“Oh,” Akira said suddenly; thinking about the other Thieves had jogged his
memory. “I wanted to mention… are you doing anything Saturday night?”
Akechi shook his head. “No. Why?”
“We – uh, the Thieves are having a party. A welcome party. For you.” Akira
watched Akechi’s eyes go wide with surprise. “We try to do something every time
someone new joins, so…” he explained, and rubbed the back of his neck. “And I
guess it’s sort of a goodbye celebration, too.”
“I… I see," Akechi said. He frowned, and poked at his food. After giving it
some thought, he continued: “I apologize. I don’t mean to sound ungrateful.
It’s just… I was under the impression the other Thieves didn’t much care for
me.”
Akira shrugged. It wasn't an incorrect statement; the others didn'tlike Akechi,
especially not in the wake of the blackmail and the hacked phone calls. That
fact was the only thing that gave Akira pause about broaching the subject with
the others; he feared they would reject his plan to help Akechi based on
personal grudges alone.
It was selfish of him to want this, Akira understood. He almost had to laugh at
himself - he really was no good as a leader, after all. But when had the
Thieves done anything selfless, anyway? They stopped Kamoshida to save Ann and
Mishima, first and foremost. Madarame was to help Yusuke, and Kaneshiro, to
save Makoto. Even Okumura was targeted largely because they wanted to help
Haru. Thieves looked out for their own before anyone else. Why should Akechi be
any different?
“It doesn’t matter if they like you,” Akira said eventually.  “You’re one of us
now.”
 
===============================================================================
 
“You can’t be serious.”
The next day, Akira called an impromptu Thieves meeting, where he laid out his
thoughts as plainly as he could, while still omitting a few details – he didn’t
need the Thieves to think he had an ulterior motive for wanting to recruit
Akechi. Whether or not he actually did have an ulterior motive was… debatable,
but Akira decided it would be best to simply leave his secret out of the
equation entirely.
“He’s serious, all right,” Morgana said.
“Something’s bothering me about the phone calls,” Akira went on, “It doesn’t
feel right. I don’t think Akechi is pulling the strings. I... I think he needs
our help.”
“You do know he wants to kill you, right?” Ryuji asked, in the same tone of
voice you would use to inform someone that the world wasn’t flat.
Akira shook his head. “That’s the thing. He said he’s going to kill me.” He
hesitated, and then added, “But I think he doesn’t want to.”
No one had an immediate response to that; rather, they all seemed somewhat
stunned, except for Futaba, who was hugging her legs to her chest and peering
over her glasses at Akira.
“Okay, well… I don’t think he’s pulling all the strings either,” Ann said
slowly, piecing her thoughts together as she spoke, “but I mean... so what?
Obviously he was ready to blackmail us on the fly, so like... what makes you
think he'll wanna betray whoever he's working for?"
"...I just have a gut feeling," Akira said at last. He could tell by the look
on Ann's face that his non-answer was not appreciated.
“Then... What do you propose we do, Akira?” Yusuke asked. He had been quietly
watching the conversation play out, his fingers tented in front of his mouth.
Akira couldn’t guess where he stood on the matter.
“I think we need to come clean to Akechi. Tell him everything,” Akira said. His
thoughts came out in a rush of words, barely taking a moment to pause; he
feared if he stopped talking for a moment they would silence him completely.
“We’ll put him in a situation where he has to work with our plan, just like he
did to us.”
Makoto sighed. She had been listening to the whole conversation, much like
Yusuke, all the while considering the potential consequences for their actions
as Phantom Thieves. “If we had more time, I think it would be worth pursuing,”
she said. “As it stands, however… I think it would cause more problems than it
would prevent.”
Akira couldn’t deny that her reasoning was sound. They had fewer than two weeks
until their deadline, after all. He understood where the others were coming
from. The problem was that they didn’t seem to understand where he was coming
from.
That was largely by Akira’s design, of course. It was finally coming back to
haunt him.
Ultimately Akira saw no solution other than to sigh and concede to the
majority. This calmed everyone’s nerves and earned him a few sympathetic
apologies in the process, but soon the bad air dissipated and the group
departed, cheerfully discussing the next day’s party and leaving Akira to his
thoughts.
It didn’t matter, though. Asking the Thieves had been a formality more than
anything else.
 
===============================================================================
 
Akira felt good.
It was a rare sight to see everyone in the same room at the same time outside
of Mementos, and to see everyone enjoying themselves was even better. They had
asked Sojiro for permission to use Leblanc's kitchen for the evening, and -
although unenthusiastic - he obliged.
Ryuji hadn’t convinced Iwai to buy him alcohol after all, so he resigned
himself to bringing a collection of sodas and snacks instead, to the delight of
most everyone, who were thrilled to take the time to enjoy talking to each
other about something other than their Palace work, for once.
Only Akira seemed to be preoccupied with his thoughts. He wasn't sure exactly
when his thoughts transformed from "I need to confront Akechi soon" into "I
need to confront Akechi right now," but there was something about the
atmosphere, about the way Akechi was smiling - like he had let his guard down -
that made Akira want to strike immediately, before he had a chance to lose his
nerve.
Everyone was deeply engaged with conversation and each other, and if Akira
worked to minimize his presence, he thought he could wind his way through the
room and carefully slip around the wall and up the staircase without anyone
noticing. The only trouble, then, was getting Akechi to follow him.
Akira set his eyes and walked with purpose, with a destination in mind, and no
one gave him a second glance – no one, except for Akechi, whose eyes darted
towards Akira as he walked past.  Akira went out of his way to gently brush
Akechi's shoulder. letting his hand linger for just a second longer than it
should have. Without looking back, Akira disappeared around the wall hiding the
stairwell.
He planted himself at the top of the stairs, resting his arms on his knees and
lacing his fingers together, and he waited. His limbs were fuzzy and his heart
was drumming with anticipation, and sooner than he expected, he saw Akechi at
the base of the stairs, making up some reason to excuse himself for a minute.
He laughed at something Akira couldn’t hear and began to ascend the stairs,
smirking and shaking his head all the way.
“You enjoy playing with fire, don’t you?” Akechi asked, kneeling down on the
stair just below Akira. Despite the din from the other side of the wall, Akechi
spoke in a hushed whisper.
“Of course,” Akira said. Akechi laughed, and Akira leaned in to meet him,
smiling into a kiss.
“That’s going to get you in trouble one day, you know.” Akechi murmured.
“Oh, I’m sure,” Akira said.
He couldn't help but indulge himself in another kiss - his hands wandering to
Akechi's shoulders and running down his arms – before he reluctantly pulled
back, just enough so that they could look each other face-to-face. The noise
from the party downstairs faded away into meaningless white noise.
“Hey, Goro.”
Akechi’s smile faded when he noticed Akira’s serious expression. “Yes?” he
asked.
Deep breath. “I want you to join the Phantom Thieves for real,” Akira said.
His words hung alone in the air.
Akechi's mouth opened, his lips curling into a confused half-frown. “I… I don’t
know what you mean?” he stammered.
“We can help you. We can help each other,” Akira continued, as if Akechi had
said nothing at all. Akechi made to back away from him, but Akira held fast to
Akechi’s arms.
“I don’t understand," Akechi said, "What are you saying?”
“I'm saying I know,” Akira said. “I know everything – we all do. I know why
you’re really working with us. But we can help you.” Words were pouring out of
his mouth with a torrential force that he couldn’t stop. “The other Thieves
don’t want to trust you, but I can convince them; I know I can, and–”
“Akira!” Akechi snapped suddenly, sharp, loud, and clear, and Akira shut his
mouth. Akechi’s expression had turned notably cool. “I’m not sure where you
heard these things…” he said, “But you’re mistaken. I don’t need any help.”
“I heard it from you, Goro,” Akira said. “I know someone told you to kill me,”
he continued, and Akechi flinched hard, trying to recoil, but Akira refused to
let go and tugged him close again. “Who are they? Please tell me, Goro,” he
pled, practically begging now, leaning in to press a kiss against Akechi’s
neck.
“Stop,” Akechi said, taking Akira by the shoulders and shoving back a little
harder than Akira expected. “I don’t recall saying anything like that to you...
Are you trying to say you've been spying on me?”
Akira opened his mouth, but he had no response – they had been spying on him,
after all – and Akechi took his silence as tacit confirmation. Akira saw the
flash of betrayal in his eyes as his gaze turned cold and unforgiving.
“When.” Akechi finally asked. “When did you find out?”
“As soon as I met you,” Akira said.
“Bullshit,” Akechi hissed. “Don’t make fun of me.”
“Do you remember what you said?” Akira asked, slowly, patiently. Akechi didn’t
respond, and so Akira continued: “Pancakes. You heard us talking about how Dome
Town looked like a pancake.”
“And?”
“You hadn’t come around the corner yet, so you didn’t know. Morgana said that.”
Realization dawned on Akechi. “The cat.” His words sounded like needles, sharp
and short. He gave a slow, ragged sigh. “You… You’ve known this whole time.
Allof you, apparently. And yet you…” Akechi cut himself off, biting back his
words. There was venom in his voice when he said: “You were manipulating me.”
“No. Never,” Akira said instantly. He could feel his chances of success
slipping through his fingers. He suddenly questioned his decision to confront
Akechi in the stairwell, so dark and narrow that it seemed to seal Akira in
place until he was trapped between a wall and Akechi’s livid glare.
“You’re sick,” Akechi spat. He was shaking now. “I never wanted to know you.
But you... Was it funny to you? To you and your friends?”
“That’s not – I haven’t said a word to them, Goro.”
“Don’t say my name,” Akechi snarled. He shut his eyes and hung his head,
curling his fingers against Akira’s shoulders. Akira couldn’t tell if it was
out of malice, or if he was desperately trying to keep himself standing.
Without looking up, and much quieter than he had been, Akechi added, “…you said
you loved me.”
“I do.”
“You’re lying!” Akechi’s head flew up, his voice getting dangerously loud
again. “You’ve been lying since the beginning.”
“And what about you?” Akira countered. Those words had hit him like a stab to
the gut, and he felt nauseated and dizzy just sitting there. Fear and
frustration were flooding his brain. “When did you know you were going to kill
me?”
Akechi made a strangled, guttural noise. “Shut up,” he muttered.
“I want you to be with us,” Akira tried again, calming his voice and leaning
forward. “You don’t have to-”
“You don’t know what I have to do,” Akechi cut him off. “How could you? You
don’t know anything about me!”
“Goro—“
“Shut up!” Akechi barked. He was shaking. “You— you… Why aren’t you angry?!”
“Because I want to help you,” Akira said softly. “I can help you if you’d let
me, Goro.”
Akechi’s face contorted with rage. For the first time, Akira saw the Akechi who
could become his murderer. “You—are you an idiot? I am going to KILL YOU!”
A hush fell over the stairwell. For a moment, the only thing Akira could hear
was the sound of his own heartbeat hammering in his ears and Akechi’s heavy
breathing. They stood there, each trapped in the others’ grip, until they heard
a creak from the bottom of the stairs. Akechi whipped his head around, and
Akira tilted slightly, until he was able to see Ryuji and Makoto peering around
the wall, and Morgana, who was already two steps up the stairs. Ryuji looked
shocked, but Makoto’s expression was impossible to parse.
“Guys,” Makoto said, her voice as hard as iron, “I think you need to come
downstairs.”
Akechi turned back to Akira. His eyes were red and shining with unwanted tears.
Akira stood up slowly, his legs shaking, and inclined his head towards the
first floor. The anger never left Akechi’s eyes, but he did turn around and
start to make his way down the stairs, with Akira right behind him.
Morgana turned tail and rushed down the stairs, disappearing around the corner.
Ryuji left as well, but Makoto waited for them, never taking her eyes off
Akechi – though Akira thought her stare was meant for him, as well.
Downstairs, the music had stopped. Everyone was looking towards the staircase,
and the atmosphere felt heavy. Ann was sitting on top of a table, her arms
crossed over her knees. Haru was nearby, closer to the stairs, looking like she
was on the verge of tears. Yusuke was holding her hand.
“Sit down,” Makoto said, gesturing to a particular booth. Morgana was sitting
on the table. Without any further prompting, Akechi sat down, sliding into the
corner, and Akira sat down beside him, effectively trapping Akechi between the
wall and Akira himself. Then the rest of the group moved closer to the table,
huddling around them in a loose semi-circle.
There was a long, awkward pause.
“That was quite the conversation you were having,” Makoto said at last.
Akira summoned up every ounce of his conviction and tried to project his
confidence to the group. “Akechi isn’t our enemy,” he stated. He looked Makoto
in the eye. “He’s not – he needs our help.”
Makoto frowned at him, but the next voice he heard wasn’t hers, but Ann’s:
“Akira, like… we talked about this,” she said. Akira's gaze shifted to her, and
she met his eyes head-on. “That’s not how we do things and you know it.”
"You don't understand. The circumstances..."
"What about the circumstances don't we understand?" Makoto asked, leaning
forward. Her eyebrows rose in something that might have been bordering on
panic. "Are you keeping something from us, Akira?" 
“I made a decision,” Akira said, choosing to ignore her question. He paused
before adding, “As our leader.”
“Akira…” Makoto sighed. “Of course sometimes you have to make decisions on the
spot without our input. But to ask us our opinion and then blatantly ignore
us... That was exceptionally selfish of you.”
“I know,” Akira said. There was an edge creeping into his voice. “But does it
matter? I can’t un-say anything. So instead of chastising me, could we maybe
think about what we want to do moving forward?"
That got a reaction from the group at large. No one said anything, but Akira
could hear little murmurs of shock rippling through the crowd.
“Was that your plan from the beginning?” Makoto asked. “Just put us into a
situation we can’t change and force us to adapt?”
Akira shrugged. “It’s worked for us so far. So why not?”
Makoto slammed her palms on the table. "Akira...!" she shouted, but before she
could go any further, Morgana stepped in front of her, walking over her arms
and flattened hands.
“This is certainly unexpected,” he said in a calm, but very firm, voice - a
voice that told Makoto to swallow the rest of her thoughts. She pulled her arms
back and rubbed his forehead. "But... Akira isn't wrong," Morgana continued.
"We can't make Akechi forget what he heard. We're just going to have to move on
from here. Tomorrow!" he added quickly, when he noticed several others
preparing to speak. "You won't make rational decisions when you're tired and
pissed off."
"So... what, we're just gonna let him go?" Ryuji asked, jerking his thumb at
Akechi.
Morgana rolled his eyes. "Obviously he's going to sleep here," he said, and
then his eyes lit up. “Oh, but we should confiscate his phone for the night.”
Akechi winced. “Please—”
“Yoink!” Before he could say anything further, Futaba – who had been kneeling
on the booth seat behind Akira and Akechi – slipped her hand into his jacket
pocket and retrieved his phone. “I saw him put it away earlier today,” she
explained to no one in particular.
Akechi laughed the sort of laugh that happens when you can’t quite figure out
how you should be reacting at a given moment. “You should consider getting into
close-up magic,” he muttered, to no one in particular.
A collective sigh escaped the room, and everyone who had been standing stone-
still started to move again, though Ryuji still seemed fairly cross. “Well, how
do we know he won’t try to escape once we’re all asleep?”
"I'll stay up and guard the door," Morgana said. "You all need to sleep in
beds, but I can nap on the go, so I'll be able to recover faster."
"Dude, what are you going to do to stop him if he tries to escape?" Ryuji
asked. "You weigh like, eight pounds. I'm pretty sure I could punt you across a
football field."
"I- I have plenty of methods!" Morgana exclaimed, his tail flicking in
frustration. "I could stop any one of you cold in your tracks!"
“The trains aren’t running now, anyway. So you can relax," Akechi interjected.
His voice was dripping with bitter sarcasm. "I’m not interested in walking all
the way home at two in the morning.”
Though Ryuji was still fuming, this seemed to resolve the argument for the time
being. Akira rose from his seat, feeling exceptionally stiff. While Haru, Ann,
and Makoto left with Futaba to go crash in Sojiro’s living room for the
evening, Akira silently busied himself finding extra bedding for the boys to
use.
This was not how he had pictured this evening going. Not in the slightest.
No one had much to say while they were preparing for bed. Ryuji and Yusuke made
their beds up on Akira’s floor, strategically positioning themselves on the
floor so they would be exceptionally difficult to avoid walking over,
presumably as another method of keeping Akechi from fleeing.
Akira settled down on his futon and looked towards Akechi. While Ryuji and
Yusuke had made themselves fairly plush-looking floor beds, completely
decimating Akira’s sofa in the process, Akechi had taken only a single pillow
and blanket. He wasn’t even laying down; he was just sitting there on the
floor, leaning back against Akira’s bookcase, with his legs pulled up to his
chest.
Akechi must have felt Akira's eyes on him. He glanced over towards the futon,
and Akira could see the sullen, defeated expression on his face. Akira gestured
towards the futon. It was a long shot, and he knew it, but it still stung to
see Akechi scoff and turn away, holding tight to his own arms as he curled up
on the floor.
The lights went out and Akira felt a lead weight in his chest, crushing him
against his bed: It was the knowledge that he went from having nine allies to
zero in the span an hour, and it was no one’s fault but his own.
***** November III *****
When Akira woke up the next morning, he did not immediately stir. Instead, he
lay still and kept his eyes closed. That way he could pretend that last night
was a dream, or a nightmare, and when he opened his eyes he would be alone in
his room, with all of his friendships still wholly intact.
He heard Ryuji and Yusuke’s hushed voices holding a conversation somewhere to
his left.
Damn it.
Reluctantly, Akira rolled over onto his side and opened his eyes. It was light
out, probably still early morning. Yusuke and Ryuji were sitting on their
makeshift beds, talking quietly and occasionally tossing covert glances towards
Akira’s side of the room. And immediately beside Akira’s bed was…
Akechi.
Akira released a breath he didn’t know he was holding. It was a small comfort
to see that, at least, Akechi was still here, lying on the ground with a small,
thin blanket wrapped around his body, his back turned to Akira. That he hadn’t
disappeared in the middle of the night had to count for something, didn’t it?
For all of Morgana’s showboating about guarding the front door, it would have
been simple for Akechi to sneak past the cat if he really wanted to leave.
But he didn’t run. Akira chose to think of that as a good sign.
Once it was clear that everyone was awake, the boys went downstairs and had a
very quiet, very awkward breakfast, silently passing the time until the girls
returned from Sojiro’s house. When they arrived, no one bothered with
greetings; instead, the group collectively and simultaneously made their way up
to the attic, with such heavy hearts that even Sojiro seemed to notice the
tense atmosphere, though he politely refrained from commenting.
Once they were safely out of earshot from any nosy customers, Makoto turned and
addressed the group. “I believe our first course of action should be to talk
with Akira,” she said, and then quickly added, “Without Akechi.”
“Well, then someone’s gonna have to watch him,” Ann said, casting her eyes
around the room. No one leapt at the chance, but it wasn't long before Ryuji
sighed and stood up.
“Fine, I’ll do it. Just fill me in on the details later, okay?”
“Thank you, Ryuji-kun,” Makoto said, and Ryuji mumbled something about it being
no big deal while he walked over to Akechi, grabbing him roughly by the
shoulder.
“Come on,” Ryuji muttered. Akechi looked cross, but nonetheless he allowed
himself to be guided down the stairs, back into Leblanc. In fact, Akira
realized, Akechi had been remarkably accommodating all morning, like he wasn’t
even trying to resist the situation. He was practically a zombie, walking
without purpose, simply because he could. It was equal parts distressing and
confusing.
After waiting until their footsteps faded completely, Makoto let out a long
sigh. “Okay,” she began, “I think the first thing we need to do is determine
exactly what information has been shared.” She turned her gaze to Akira, who
thought he might as well just combust on the spot. It seemed that her anger had
mellowed somewhat, which was good, but her stare was just as harsh and
intimidating as it was yesterday.
When Akira did not immediately speak up, Makoto tried a different approach:
“Akira. Please tell us exactly what you told Akechi. We won’t be angry with
you,” she continued, her voice somehow softer than before, “but please, tell us
what he knows. It’s vitally important.”
Akira could feel everyone in the room staring at him, and though he could tell
that they were all unhappy with him, it didn’t seem as though things would
escalate to a shouting match – at least, not right now. He took a deep, shaky
breath, and sat down in one of the chairs around his table. He was afraid his
legs would give out if he continued to stand.
“He knows we're on to him,” Akira began. “Mostly about how he intentionally set
up our infiltration of Sae’s palace so that we could be captured. And he knows
that we know he's planning to kill me. But that's it, honestly."
He waited for the group to process this new information. Makoto nodded slowly,
and he could see the gears turning behind Ann and Haru’s eyes, but it was
Yusuke who broke the silence first. “So in essence,” he said, crossing his arms
and resting his chin in his hand thoughtfully, “Our initial plan has been
completely compromised.”
Akira looked at his lap. “Yeah,” he mumbled.
“And changing Sae-san’s heart was all just a ruse,” Haru said. Her voice
sounded like delicate glass under immense stress: as if she could break at any
moment.
“But— but Sis DOES have a palace,” Makoto cut in, frowning. “Long before Akechi
entered the group, I learned that Sis had a palace. He didn’t create that; he
was simply using her because it was convenient.”
“So could it still be worth it to change Sae-san’s heart?” Ann asked. “I mean,
what’s stopping us from just sending the calling card as soon as we’ve found
her treasure?”
“Akechi had said that the calling card may not affect Sis unless she was under
the stress of a deadline,” Makoto said, “but I wonder if that wasn’t just a lie
to get us to work on his schedule.”
“I have to agree,” Morgana said. “There’s no reason the calling card wouldn’t
affect Sae’s heart immediately. This means that the obvious course of action
now is to steal Sae’s treasure ahead of schedule and stop the investigation
against us,” he stopped, sighed, and closed his eyes solemnly. “However… if we
were to do that, we would undoubtedly tip off the people Akechi is working
for.”
“And as we do not yet know the identity – or even identities – of the one
giving him orders, it would be quite dangerous for us to provoke them in such a
way,” Yusuke said. “We would be utterly defenseless against an unknown
adversary. It would be not unlike Medjed, if Medjed had taken physical form.”
“That’s… not a terrible way to think of it,” Makoto admitted, after taking a
moment to process what he had just said.
“If only we knew the name of the person Akechi is working for,” Morgana mused.
“No doubt that someone who ordered a high schooler to murder his friend has a
distorted heart. If we knew who it was, we could simply plan to infiltrate
their palaces simultaneously.”
“Simultaneously?” Ann repeated, sounding practically aghast.
“It would be difficult, to be sure,” Morgana acknowledged. “Our workload would
effectively double. But if we were to change Sae’s heart and then begin to
infiltrate the second palace, we run the risk of encountering trouble here in
the real world.” He bent his ears back in frustration. “In my opinion, it would
be best to secure a route to the treasures in both palaces first, and then
steal their hearts one after the other. Given our current situation, I can’t
think of another way to nullify the threat that Akechi poses.”
“That’s quite the timeline,” Yusuke said. “The investigation is to take place
in less than two weeks, and we don’t even know where to start looking for this
other individual.”
“Not true,” Futaba said, shaking her head. “I know one guy’s name. Akechi said
it during a phone call: Shido-san. That’s who he was talking to about… how to
get rid of Akira.”
The room lapsed into silence. Akira felt like his head was full of cotton. It
occurred to him that he had never once heard Akechi speak about his employers
in any capacity, not even to gripe about work in casual conversation. And of
course, Akechi HAD to be working with someone; the alternative was not just
unthinkable but, in Akira’s opinion, completely impossible - because if Akechi
was working only for himself, why would he seem to be in so much pain…?
Makoto took a long breath before standing up. “At any rate, here is where I
believe we stand: Right now, Akechi has not contacted his employers. As far as
they know, everything is still going as expected. Yet, if we accelerate our
plan to steal Sis’s heart, we would have a very small window of time before
they know things have gone wrong. This means we’re going to have to make a
decision. We can’t just assume Akechi will be willing to work with us.”
Akira, whose mouth had gone dry minutes ago, finally found his voice again. “He
will,” he said, his voice sounding like sandpaper. “I’ll convince him. He
doesn’t want to oppose us.”
The others exchanged awkward glances. Akira felt strange knowing that they were
having silent conversations all around him, probably about him, that they were
purposely excluding him. Had he really become such a liability?
Makoto eventually turned back to Akira with a look of pity in her eyes. “You
heard his voice, Akira. He’s too far gone,” she said. “What makes you think you
can reach him?”
Because I already HAVE,Akira wanted to scream, but he couldn't find the words.
Before he could gather his thoughts any further, Morgana spoke again. “Well,
regardless... It seems we’ll need to ask Akechi about Shido directly. With only
a first name to go on, he’s our only source of intel,” he said. As no one
objected, he turned around and said to Ann: “Lady Ann, would you go get Ryuji
and Akechi?”
Ann nodded and quickly leapt to her feet, dashing to the staircase landing.
“Ryujiiii!” she yelled down the stairs. “You guys can come back up now!”
“That’s not what I…” Morgana began, before quickly deciding that now was not
the time to argue semantics. “…oh, whatever,”  he mumbled.
Moments later, the two boys reappeared in the attic, both looking fairly surly,
and they walked back over to the table. Ryuji all but threw Akechi into the
open seat next to Akira, before he took the seat immediately to Akechi's left
for himself. He crossed his arms and leaned forward, looking serious. “Okay, so
what’s up?” he asked.
Morgana leapt up onto the table. "Akechi,” he said, with a firm and commanding
voice that would have been much more effective if it wasn’t coming out of a
cat’s body, “Tell us who you’re working for.”
Akechi sneered at him. “What makes you think I’m working for anyone? Perhaps I
simply hate you all that much.”
It was a lie, and Akira knew it was a lie – hell, everyone in the room knew it
was a lie – but he was embarrassed to admit that it still stung to hear Akechi
say those words.
Makoto spoke up next. “We know you’re working for someone,” she said, sharply
enunciating each word, “because we have audio logs of your phone calls from the
past three weeks. Unless you intend to tell us that you regularly have
conversations with an imaginary friend?”  
Akechi was staring daggers at Makoto. "If you've been spying on me, as you
claim, then surely you already know who I'm working for," he said.
"Mm. Shido, wasn't it?" Makoto asked, though Akechi did not react either
positively or negatively. She continued, "A last name alone is hardly much use
to us. And furthermore, that still leaves the question of motive. Who is Shido?
Why did he order you to kill Akira?"
Akira felt a wave of nausea. He didn't enjoy hearing those words in that order.
Akechi made a low, angry noise. "And what exactly do you intend to do with that
information? Force him to have a change of heart?" he asked, with a mocking
lilt that made it clear he was not a fan of such an idea.
"It's possible," Makoto said.
A horrible, joyless smile crossed Akechi's face. "Then our goals truly are
incompatible. You see, I have no interest in making Shido try to repent for his
misdeeds. I intend to see him thoroughly humiliated, and then, I intend to make
him very much dead." His words were laced with venom and fury and a great deal
of other things that were left unsaid, boiling somewhere just below Akechi's
surface level facade.
"The hell, man?" Ryuji yelled, amidst a series of surprised noises from the
other Thieves. “Who the fuck is this dude?"
Akechi tilted his head and feigned curiosity. “You don’t know him, Sakamoto?
But he was on the television when we were downstairs in Leblanc. Or didn’t you
notice?”
Ryuji screwed up his face in concentration, and moments later his eyebrows shot
up. “That guy? The freaking – the politician?”
A flicker of recognition rippled through the group.
“Oh, him!" Ann exclaimed, "The one running for Prime Minister?”
"You must mean Masayoshi Shido?" Haru asked, and Akechi gave her a curt nod.
"He's become quite prominent in Japanese politics recently. My father and I
once attended a dinner party he hosted."
"Masayoshi Shido, the politician," Yusuke said. He spoke so deliberately and
clearly that he attracted nearly everyone's attention, and it wasn't until they
heard the tell-tale chime of the Meta-verse app that they realized what he was
doing. He nodded in approval. "Your deduction was correct, Morgana. He does
indeed have a palace."
Makoto clenched her hands into fists. "Akechi-kun," she said, "we know you were
planning to ambush us in Sis’s palace. But if we were to steal Sis’s treasure
ahead of schedule, we risk being targeted in the real world. If Shido's
humiliation is your goal, surely a public change of heart would be
satisfactory?" she asked.
Akechi frowned. “It won’t have the same effect,” he said.
“Why?” Makoto asked - or rather, nearly yelled, but she barely restrained
herself at the last moment. “What makes a change of heart so different than
killing Shido outright?”
“Because,” out of nowhere, Akira spoke up. Akechi’s eyes darted towards Akira
with a mix of fury and fear. “Forcing a change of heart doesn’t benefit you.
Right? Or were you not planning on taking credit for solving Shido’s murder?”
Akechi’s stunned silence was all they needed to confirm that Akira was
absolutely spot-on. 
“...Obviously, you have some kind of personal grudge against Shido,” Makoto
said, with an exasperated sigh, “but if he's truly as deplorable as you make
him sound, surely you'd find merit in causing a change of heart? For the sake
of anyone he's hurt-"
“I don’t care about anyone else,” Akechi hissed, cutting Makoto off. "Do you
know how long I've have to spend working for that disgusting excuse for a
human?" His eyes flashed before he seemed to realize what he was saying, and he
calmed his voice, just a little. "My motives are entirely personal. I only
intend to help Shido so that, when I have him completely at my mercy, he will
have no choice but to admit that the only reason he got to be where he was...
was because of me."
No one seemed to know what to make of Akechi's confession. Akira wracked his
brain, trying to pull out any memory of a politician named Shido; he had seen
that name on the news, he was sure of it - but beyond that, he couldn't recall
anything. But just judging by the look on Akechi's face...
“Christ dude, who cares about an asshole like him?” Ryuji asked, breaking
Akira's train of thought. Ryuji was sitting sideways in his chair now. “Shitty
adults just have shitty opinions that don’t mean jack shit.”
“I know that!” Akechi barked, surprising the others. “Of course I know that. If
he was just some corrupt politician, I wouldn’t care what he thinks of me.
But…” Akechi’s eyes hardened and he laughed a hollow laugh. “You were right to
call me a bastard, Sakamoto.”
Ryuji blinked. “What,” he said flatly.
Akechi looked at him as if he was a complete idiot. “Because he fathered me
without marrying my mother.” Then he smirked, showing far too many teeth. "And
you know what that makes me."
“Shido’s your dad?” Ann exclaimed, clapping a hand over her mouth right after
the words came out of her mouth. "Sorry, sorry," she quickly apologized, "I
just - I wouldn't have guessed..."
"So when you said your motive is personal, that's what you meant..." Haru said
softly.
“...that’s no excuse,” Makoto said finally, but she hung her head and wouldn't
look Akechi in the eye. She intended to continue speaking, but Ryuji held up
his hand to silence her.
“Nah, I… I get it,” Ryuji said after a long moment.
“Ryuji," Makoto started to say.
“Look," Ryuji shook his head, once again cutting Makoto off. "He shared
somethin' big, so now I’m gonna share somethin' too, okay? That’s just fair.” 
Akechi was watching Ryuji with a serious look on his face, perhaps for the
first time since either of them had met.
“Anyway..." Ryuji continued, "my dad was shit, too. Used to beat me ‘n my mom,
until we moved away. He was total scum, there’s no question. I haven’t even
seen him in years. But sometimes I still do things… just ‘cause I think it’d
finally make him proud of me." He shrugged, and looked up at Akechi. "Y’know?”
To the surprise of Akira, and probably everyone else in the room, Akechi
nodded. “Indeed… it’s quite like that," he said.
“I understand what you mean, as well,” Haru said. She took a few steps so that
she could clearly see Ryuji and Akechi. “My father is – was the kind of person
who thought of his own gain before anything else, even if it meant causing
someone else pain. I… I resented him for it. Sometimes I even hated him for it.
But… he was still my father. I wanted to believe that he cared about me, in
some way.”
"I... I detest Shido," Akechi said. His voice had lost its fight and his eyes
were softening. Despite everything, Akira was beginning to see a light at the
end of the tunnel. "There’s no one I hate more in the entire world. But I… I
still…” Akechi cut himself off. “I hate it. Why do I want someone like him to
respect me… why…?”
Ryuji shrugged. “It’s just one of those things, y’know? Like... respect your
elders and all that shit. No one cares if your family is garbage, you're still
supposed'ta make them proud.”
“So then, what am I supposed to do?” Akechi asked. It was the first genuine
question from him all day – there was no malice, no mockery to his voice; he
spoke the way he looked: confused and a bit frightened.
"Well..." Ryuji said, "Mom and I moved the hell away from dad. Not havin’ to
see him every day helped a ton. But I guess that won't really help you, huh?”
“I… was unable to ever reconcile with my father,” Haru said slowly, “but I've
been speaking with others about him. His employees, but also you all. To find
out how other people saw him, but also to help come to terms with the cruelty
of his actions." She lowered her eyes. 
"Ah... Okumura-chan..." Akechi said. The fury had all but completely
disappeared from his face. "And you as well, Sakamoto. Thank-"
Before he could finish his sentence, however, Futaba gave a loud yelp and leapt
in her seat. “Gah! Crow’s phone! Ringing!” she exclaimed, whipping Akechi’s
phone from her pocket and sliding it across the table.
There was no name on caller ID, only a phone number. “That’s Shido,” Akechi
said.
Makoto looked at him and pushed the phone in his direction. “Answer it, on
speaker phone. Right now. Tell him everything is fine,” she said. Akechi stared
back, and they played the world’s shortest game of chicken before Akechi
reached out and answered the call.
“Shido-san?” he asked.
Over the phone, a distinctly male voice said, “Would you care to explain why
you missed check-in yesterday?”
“Ah, my apologies, sir,” Akechi said. His voice was pleasant and amiable, but
his expression was stone cold; the dissonance was quite jarring. “I spent the
majority of my day in the Meta-verse. No phone service. The check-in simply
slipped my mind.”
The voice on the phone sighed loudly. “It slipped your mind, did it?" he asked.
"It truly was a mistake, sir," Akechi said, visibly rolling his eyes. "If you'd
like, I would be happy to give yesterday's check-in right now, though I have
little to report. The infiltration is progressing precisely on schedule."
"Good," the voice said. "I have a new assignment for you. It's in your mailbox.
See to it quickly."
Before Akechi even had a chance to respond, the phone was playing a dial tone.
"Wow," Futaba said dryly. "So that was Shido?"
"Indeed," Akechi said through grit teeth. He slid his phone back over to
Makoto.
"...thank you for that, Akechi-kun," Makoto said. Akechi looked away and
shrugged dismissively. "At any rate... I can see now that it may be difficult
for you to speak about Shido. So for the time being, let's focus on Sis. Would
you be willing to assist us?" She asked.
“So, you intend to go through with stealing Sae-san's treasure as planned...?"
Akechi asked. 
"Yes," Makoto nodded. "It's for... personal reasons for myself, as well."
Akechi took a deep breath through his nose and closed his eyes. “I… would like
to propose an alternate plan,” he said slowly.
The Thieves exchanged glances. After a moment of pause, Makoto waved her hand.
"Well? We're listening," she said.
"I don’t think we need to steal Sae-san’s treasure at all," Akechi said. "Her
palace was… manufactured, you could say. She distorted her desires on her own,
of course, but the SIU director was under orders from Shido to increase her
workload and the amount of responsibility riding on her shoulders."
"I... I see," Makoto said. "So... what do you propose, then?"
"I believe it may be worth it to try simply talking to Sae-san,” Akechi
explained.
“I’m not sure about this…” Morgana said, his tail flicking back and forth.
Akechi regarded him seriously.
“Consider: If you could convince Sae to see your side in one night… it would
make things quite a bit easier for you going forward, wouldn’t you say?” Akechi
said. “If she were to have a complete change of heart, she would surely follow
the trend set by Madarame and Kaneshrio and make a public confession. Shido’s
informants in the police department would be tipped off and there’s no doubt it
would be back to Shido within the day.”
"That's a good point," Ann commented. "Even if we were able to jump straight
into Shido's palace after that..."
"You have no way of knowing how long it would take to steal Sae-san’s treasure,
nor Shido's," Akechi continued her thought. "Sure, in theory it’s possible to
steal two treasures in a single day, but in practice…”
“I mean... it’s worth a try, right?” Ann asked. “We already know where she’s
keeping her treasure. So, like… if talking doesn’t work, can’t we just go steal
her treasure anyway?”
"I... I can't disagree with that," Makoto said at last. She turned her gaze to
Akira, who had been content to watch things unfold for the time being. He sat
up in his seat when he felt Makoto's eyes on him. "Akira-kun... you are still
our leader. What do you think?"
"Ann's right," Akira decided. "We may as well try. But we'll need to infiltrate
Shido's Palace first, like Morgana said," he looked pointedly at Akechi. "Goro,
would you...?"
"I'll help," Akechi said. His eyes were downcast but his voice did not falter.
"Not... today, okay?" he asked. "But soon."
"I have no problem with that," Makoto said. She looked around the room.
"Everyone?" she asked, and the other Thieves all either nodded or made noises
of approval. The mood in the room had lightened considerably. "Okay. Then I
propose we break for the day. It's... been a long weekend. Let's regroup on
Monday."
 
===============================================================================
 
Akira stared at Akechi. “I’m not letting you sleep on the floor again,” he
said.
The Thieves decided that it would still be best if Akechi stayed at Leblanc for
the time being - not only to keep an eye on him, but just in case anyone
decided to pay Akechi's apartment a visit. Leblanc was the safest place for
him. Ann and Makoto had started to make up a story to Sojiro, who cut in very
quickly and said that he didn't need or want to know; if it was some Phantom
Thieves business, he was better off not knowing. Regardless, he seemed happy to
shelter one of Leblanc's regular customers.
“The sofa, then,” Akechi replied.
It was already late and Akira was drained from everything that had happened
during the day, and he was in no mood to argue with Akechi about his choice of
bed for the evening. Yet, that is what they were doing. Akira was already well
settled in his futon, which - as prior experience had proven - was more than
big enough for the both of them, but Akechi was preparing the same "bed" he had
used the previous night.
“It’s going to get cold tonight,” Akira said.
"It's not my fault you don't have a heater," Akechi retorted, but Akira could
see his resolve fading.
"Sleep on the futon," Akira said firmly. "I want you beside me."
Akechi looked at Akira, obviously startled and perhaps a bit flustered. "I...
really don't understand you, Akira," he said, and at last he relented and made
his way to Akira's side.
When the lights were out and Akechi had delicately settled himself under the
blankets, Akira wrapped his arms around his companion. The air in his room was
cool, almost uncomfortably so, but Akechi was so, so warm, and Akira felt
deliriously content.
"I meant it, you know," Akechi said softly, just before either had dozed off.
"I don't understand you at all. After everything I said to you..."
"It's fine," Akira said, his voice muddled with fatigue, and he nuzzled up
against Akechi's back. “Don't worry about it." He fought back a yawn and then,
relaxing until he was as close to Akechi as he could possibly be, he said, very
softly, "Please just let me love you, Goro.”
Akechi squeezed Akira's hand tightly. “You should hate me,” he murmured into
the darkness.
“I know,” Akira replied. “Get some sleep.”
***** November IV *****
“Okay, so his name is Masayoshi Shido,” Ryuji said, through a mouthful of
curry. “Then where’s his palace?”
“It’s gotta be the Diet Building, right?” Ann suggested. There was a phone
sitting on the table in front of her, and after she spoke, the Meta-nav app
blipped and confirmed that she was correct. She clenched her fist triumphantly.
“Awesome! I mean, where else could it be, right?”
Morgana, who was sitting on the table, closed his eyes and nodded. “The only
real trouble is his distortion. We don’t know anything about him. What could he
possibly think the Diet Building is? Even all of Japan?”
It was late one evening, long past Leblanc’s closing time, and the Thieves were
gathered in the café, snacking on leftovers and brainstorming keywords for
Shido’s palace. Finding Sae’s treasure had been a simple feat; after rigging
the slot machines in their favor, they were easily able to cross the strange
bridge that led to the innermost room in Sae’s casino.
Morgana had declared the route secure, but instead of sending Sae a calling
card, the Thieves turned their attention to their second target: Masoyoshi
Shido. Until they knew they could sweep in and change the hearts of Shido and
Sae in quick succession, no one felt comfortable making a big move – especially
not Makoto, Akira had noticed, who still seemed uneasy with the thought of
confronting her sister head-on.
“Could it be a limo or something?” Futaba suggested, twirling her fork between
her fingers thoughtfully.
Akechi, who was sitting on a barstool behind the rest of the group, laughed at
that one. Futaba shot him a grumpy look. “No, no – I expect you’re not that far
off,” he said, with a dry humor. “The ways I’ve heard him talk… I think… it’s a
ship.” No sooner had he spoken the word that the Meta-nav reacted positively,
confirming the coordinates. He scoffed, looking almost disgusted.
“Ohhh, so like he’s gonna be the captain? Of Japan?” Ryuji asked. Akechi made a
disgruntled but affirmative noise.
Makoto turned to Akechi, “Thank you, Akechi-kun,” she said, and Akechi simply
shrugged.
“Well, now that we’re able,” Yusuke began, setting his utensils down
delicately, “When shall we infiltrate the place?”
Akira glanced at the clock. It was late – already after midnight – but the
group was restless and their time limit was short. “We could go now,” he
quipped.
“For real?” Ryuji exclaimed, sighing once he caught sight of the little grin on
Akira’s face. “Yeah, I’m sure no one’ll be suspicious of a buncha kids
loitering outside the Diet Building in the middle of the night…”
“We can just go tomorrow, first thing after school,” Makoto said.
“You mean later today,” Akira said, which earned him a flat glare from Makoto.
“If you’re done being pedantic,” she said, “Then we should get some rest.”
“Will Akechi-kun be attending school tomorrow?” Haru asked, not to Akechi, but
the group at large.
“I will," Akechi replied curtly. “It’s best I keep up appearances, in the event
that Shido gets nervous and sends someone to keep an eye on me.”
“Don’t worry,” Morgana said, “Akira and I already decided I’d follow Akechi
tomorrow. So I’ll know if he tries anything.” Though Akechi had been remarkably
accommodating with their investigation into both Sae and Shido, many of the
Thieves had trouble shaking their distrust towards the detective.
“Doesn’t it kinda defeat the point now that we’ve told him, though…?” Ann
asked.
“I already know you don’t trust me, so what does it matter?” Akechi muttered,
which promptly shut down any other discussion into the matter.
Everyone went their separate ways for the evening, except for Akechi, who slept
at Leblanc again, without complaint but also without much else to say. Still,
Akira had gotten so used to Akechi’s presence that leaving his side to go to
school the next day felt strange – and even stranger that Morgana wasn’t with
him, either. He was left alone with his thoughts for the first time in months.
It was very quiet. Akira didn’t much enjoy it.
Thankfully, the school day seemed to fly by, and before he knew it he was
taking the short train trip over to the political district. Ryuji, Ann, Makoto,
and Haru had accompanied him from Shujin, and in short order Yusuke, Futaba,
and at last, yes, Akechi and Morgana, joined them in front of the Diet
Building, and then in the blink of an eye they were standing on the deck of a
gargantuan yacht in the Meta-verse.
It was absurdly large, floating through the flooded remains of Shibuya, where
the tops of skyscrapers loomed in the distance like concrete icebergs, only
adding to the larger-than-life sensation they felt when standing on the deck.
“This… is so weird,” Ryuji said, staring around open-mouthed in awe.
“It looks like something out of an apocalypse movie,” Futaba agreed.
They were already in full Thief gear the moment they arrived; not surprising,
considering what they knew about Shido and his penchant for paranoia. Akira
chanced a look at Akechi. He was standing very still and very quiet, with a
distant, cold look in his eyes. He did not meet Akira’s gaze.
As he led the way up into the Diet Building that was perched atop the yacht’s
main floor, Akira glanced back at the group. “This is strictly a reconnaissance
mission,” he reminded them, “so don’t go looking for fights. Okay?”
The yacht was impossibly large on the inside, too – larger than it should have
been, based on the way it looked from the deck – not that a dreamscape had much
use for realistic physics, anyway. There were dozens of people milling around
inside, and they were all dressed in three-piece suits or slinky cocktail
dresses, shiny jewelry sparkling noticeably on nearly everyone. Despite the
upbeat music and brightly lit interior, the atmosphere felt horribly
oppressive.
“This seems excessive, even for a politician,” Ann commented.
“Tell me about it,” Makoto said.
Haru, however, shook her head. “Actually… it’s a bit startling how realistic
this is," she said. “The kind of people Shido associates with… they have no
sense of scale. When you don’t have to worry about money, nothing seems over
the top…”
Even knowing this, everyone could tell that this yacht was a little… off. Every
cognitive world was a little bit strange; it was almost reality, and it could
pass for reality most of the time, but there were little inconsistencies – the
result of an individual’s perception of their own world – and once you noticed
them, they became glaringly obvious.
Shido’s palace was no exception. It was, at first glance, an ordinary if
excessively lavish yacht, complete with everything you would expect to see on a
luxury cruiser. The stairs were covered in plush red carpet, bordered by
polished wooden banisters with intricately carved designs curling throughout
their length.
These fanciful touches lost their luster upon close inspection, however. Akira
was pressed up against a corner, carefully scanning for shadows, when he first
noticed that the texture of the wall seemed strange – it was perfectly smooth,
like plastic. Crouching low to the floor, he ran his fingers across the carpet,
and it was oddly smooth, too.
As they delved farther into the depths of the ship, it seemed that nothing was
truly what it appeared to be – not the leather armchairs in the lounge, not the
crystal chandeliers hanging from the ceilings, not even the flower arrangements
that dotted the entire ship. If you took a moment to check for craftsmanship,
the entire ship was clearly just an imitation – a false pretense to keep up
appearances. Appropriate for Shido, Akira thought.
The guests, too, were an anomaly, but only because of how ordinary they were.
Politicians that looked like regular adults, the kind of people who would board
the train with Akira during rush hour, but the things they were saying… Akira
thought maybe he shouldn’t have been surprised, but it shocked him to hear the
guests speaking so casually about the cruel things they’d done.
It didn’t surprise anyone that the only way to get to Shido’s treasure room was
ridiculously complicated. Someone so entrenched in political corruption
couldn’t allow just anyone to meet him; he had to make sure he could trust his
associates. Furthermore, the shadows patrolling Shido’s yacht were no joke;
even when they were moving carefully, they found themselves in more than one
unavoidable fight during the short hour they had spent investigating.
“We’ve seen enough for today,” Akira declared after one particularly rough
scuffle. “We know what we need to do, so let’s head back for now.”
“Do you really think we’re gonna be able to get those guys to give us letters
of introduction?” Ann asked as they made their way back to the Palace entrance.
“If we are unable to convince them, then surely we could procure the letters by
force?” Yusuke asked.
“Hmm… I wonder if that’s going to be necessary,” Haru commented, as if she was
thinking out loud. She received several confused glances, and continued, “Well,
if Shido knows and trusts Akechi… then he could probably ask for letters of
introductions without much trouble, right…?”
Akechi blinked. He hadn’t said a word since they had entered the Palace; he
seemed almost surprised someone was speaking to him. “Well, unless I’d be
expected to already have letters of introduction,” he said, after a moment of
contemplation. “Or worse, I wouldn’t even need letters in the first place.”
“But we might as well try, right?” Ann asked. “Fox is right; if it doesn’t
work, we can just beat the snot out of them.”
“I suppose I can’t argue with that,” Akechi replied, and Akira thought he saw
the flash of a smile on his face. “Though… would you blame me if I’d prefer to
fight those wretches instead?”
Ryuji had to stifle a loud laugh. Makoto sighed. “Let’s at least try to solve
things peacefully first, okay…?” she pleaded.
 
===============================================================================
 
The next day, Akira was leading the group down a long hallway somewhere in the
bowels of the ship, right towards a particularly large metal door. Akechi had
managed to talk two of the confidants into giving them a letter of introduction
without any trouble; the real problem was navigating the ship, which was more
of a labyrinth than anyone could have imagined.
Akira tried the door handle, and to his surprise, it opened easily. He
carefully peered into the next room. Compared to the rest of the ship, it was
dingy, dark, and industrial – Akira thought they must be close to the engine
room now. But unlike the maze of the maintenance hallways behind them, which
had been populated solely by shadows, there was someone in the next room.
It was an uncomfortably familiar silhouette, and Akira mentally cursed himself
for not anticipating this. But it was too late to hide now; the others had
already noticed his hesitation, as he crouched up beside the doorjamb just a
hair longer than usual.
“What’s up, Joker?” Morgana asked in a hushed voice. He wormed his way through
Akira’s legs until he could see around the door, as well. “Is there something
big?”
“Let me take a look,” Futaba said, before Akira could comment. After a fraction
of a second, they all heard her take a sharp, surprised gasp. “Oh, no…”
Then Skull and Fox and Panther were all at Akira’s side, vying for a look into
the room. They were putting in a genuine effort to remain stealthy, Akira had
to admit – but when so many people tried to occupy such a small space, there
was only so much that could be done, and in seconds their bustle pushed the
door open a little farther.
“Oh, shit,” Ryuji muttered.
Haru pressed a hand against her lips. “Shido knows Akechi, so this is—“
“It’s his cognition of Akechi?” Ann asked.
They were so shocked that they had let their voices grow loud, inadvertently
drawing the attention of the figure in the room, and when he turned to face
them, there was no denying that he looked identical to Akechi, right down to
the way he dressed. His eyes, however, looked hollow and blank, and he had an
eerily calm expression on his face. He surveyed the group in front of him with
a long, slow stare.
“Hmm, I had heard there were a few rats running around the ship. I suppose I
should have known it would be you.” He said at last, and Akira felt the hairs
on his neck stand on end. Of course, this wasn’t the first time they had seen a
Palace cognition of someone they knew, but Kamoshida’s perverted version of Ann
had been easy to dismiss as blatantly fake. In comparison, Shido’s cognitive
Akechi was frighteningly realistic.
Cognitive Akechi sauntered over closer to the group, when something seemed to
catch his eye. “Oh? It’s me,” he said, smiling at himself. Akira took a step
forward, and he heard Goro take a ragged breath.
“Now, perhaps I’m wrong, but I don’t believe we ever intended for the Phantom
Thieves to breech Shido-san’s Palace, did we…?” Cognitive Akechi asked himself,
gesturing to the room at large. “Or did you bring them here so we could kill
them discretely?”
“Hey, back off!” Ryuji barked, brandishing his club at Cognitive Akechi when he
started to get too close to the Thieves.
Cognitive Akechi stopped short of Ryuji’s club and frowned, turning his gaze
towards the real Akechi once again. “Your outfit…” he mused, tapping his chin
with his fingers, “Could it be that you’re still pretending to be one of them,
even now?”
Akechi started to move, but Akira threw out his arm and held him back. He kept
his eyes on the cognition in front of him. “No one’s pretending,” Akira said,
in what he hoped was his most convincingly confident voice. “Shido is our
mutual enemy. Akechi is our ally.”
“Oh?” Cognitive Akechi asked, tilting his head towards Akira. “I suppose the
Phantom Thieves really are false justice, if they’d accept someone like him
into their ranks.” He smirked. “How generous of you. After everything he’s done
to you, you’d just forgive him like that? Even you, Okumura-chan? And isn’t
Futaba-chan with you, too…?”
Haru furrowed her eyebrows. “What about me…?” she asked.
Cognitive Akechi’s face twisted into a sick, joyful smirk. “You haven’t told
them?” he asked, looking back at Akechi, who was shaking with rage. “You
haven’t told them,” the cognition repeated, with venomous mirth in his voice.
“Shut up,” Akechi hissed, squeezing his eyes shut tight. He didn’t try to move,
but Akira could tell he was only barely restraining himself.
“How wonderful,” the cognition smiled brightly. “I wish I could stay and see
what happens, but…” he flicked his hand dismissively, causing three puffs of
smoke to materialize right in front of the Thieves. The smoke quickly turned
into three very large shadows: a pair of shiny white Cerberus with a Cu
Chulainn towering behind them. “Die now, won’t you?”
“Get ready, everyone,” Akira commanded, taking a defensive stance.
The others scrambled to grab their weapons and return to their positions. As he
ran up beside Akira, Ryuji yelled out, “Damn it, he’s gettin’ away!”
Akira’s eyes darted towards Cognitive Akechi, who was retreating deeper into
the engine room, disappearing behind a giant steel drum.
“We have more immediate problems!” Makoto yelled back, and she stepped into
place on Akira’s other side. She had already summoned Anat, who threw out a
nuclear attack towards the Cu Chulainn in the back.
“Queen’s right!” Futaba called out. “Watch out guys, they’re coming for you!”
Caught unaware, Akira and Ryuji both took a solid hit from the lions, but once
they were focused, the Thieves made quick work of the shadows. The fight took
long enough for Cognitive Akechi to escape, however; Futaba confirmed that she
couldn’t sense him in their immediate vicinity any longer.
“Still, he couldn’t have gone far,” she said. “Hey, do we need to worry about
him? He can’t like… talk to the real Shido, right…?”
“I don’t think cognitions can do that…” Morgana said slowly, but the look on
his face did not inspire confidence.
“How is everyone?” Akira asked. Thankfully no one had taken any serious hits,
aside from Akira and Ryuji. “Then we should go ahead and pursue him. He’ll only
remain a thorn in our side if we don’t.”
Refocused and much, much quieter this time, Akira led the group through the
engine room, following Futaba’s instructions until they were standing in a
small security room that overlooked a mostly-empty storeroom. They had tracked
Cognitive Akechi here; he seemed to have a little base of operations set up at
a small desk in the corner of the room, and from what they could tell, he was
so occupied with what he was doing that he hadn’t noticed their presence.
“Okay,” Akira said, “We’ll use this vent to enter the room and ambush him from
above. Hopefully then he won’t have time to summon any shadows.” The group
nodded. Akira swept his eyes over his active team, and added, “Crow, you’re
sitting this one out. Swap with Fox.”
Akechi’s eyes went wide, frenzied with anger. “You can’t – I won’t!” he said.
Akira swept over to Akechi and grabbed him by the collar, pulling him so close
that he nearly bumped his nose on Akechi’s mask. “You will,” Akira snapped, and
then, softly, “You’ve beaten yourself up enough already. No more.”
Akechi grumbled something inaudible and shoved Akira’s hand away, but he
stepped back and fell into line with the other Thieves who were on reserve.
Yusuke looked at him curiously before he moved to take Akechi’s place beside
Akira.
The reserve team stayed in the security room while the others crawled into the
storeroom, leaping from the rafters and landing so that they were flanking
Cognitive Akechi from all four sides. The cognition didn’t flinch.
“How cowardly,” Cognitive Akechi sneered. He waved his hand and a pulse of
force energy radiated out around him, but the group was ready and they only
took chip damage.
“Sucks to be you, dude,” Ryuji said with a boastful grin, “because we already
know every trick you got, thanks to that guy.” He jabbed his thumb back towards
the security room and the real Akechi.
The cognition smirked. “Oh, I wonder?” he asked, holding out his hand. A cloud
of black smoke formed behind him – similar to when he had summoned those
shadows earlier – and a tall figure started to form behind him.
“Watch yourselves…” Akira said slowly, never taking his eyes off the form
behind Cognitive Akechi.
“Wh-what the heck is that?” Morgana yelped.
“It’s a shadow, I think?” Futaba said. The figure was solid but hazy now, and
Akira thought he could make out… horns, perhaps?
He shook his head clear. “It doesn’t matter!” he yelled, as much to himself as
to the team. “We don’t have to understand it; we just need to beat them!”
Cognitive Akechi fought recklessly, but Ryuji was right that he mimicked the
real Akechi’s battle style quite closely. He was strong and he didn’t hold
back, throwing out his most powerful spells from the very beginning – and Akira
nearly faltered, because his face was Akechi’s face, and seeing it so strongly
contorted with rage just brought back memories of that moment at Leblanc…
And couldn’t things have just as easily gone wrong? It finally struck him why
the cognition’s voice was so unsettling: because Akira had heard that voice
before; it was the exact same tone Akechi used in his conversations with Shido,
the ones Futaba had recorded. Watching this fake Akechi was like looking into a
mirror that reflected an alternate reality – eerily realistic and wholly
terrifying.
In the end, however, it was no contest. The Thieves had Cognitive Akechi beaten
in mere minutes. Knocked to the ground, coughing and sputtering, the cognition
never stopped glaring at them.
“Ha… it’s cute that you think this means anything,” he managed to say – thought
it was nothing more than bravado, considering Akira and the team had him
surrounded at gunpoint. “I’m nothing compared to Shido… and you, you’re–”
A sharp crack rang out – Ann yelped, and Akira nearly jumped in place – and
there was a bullet in Cognitive Akechi’s head, the real Akechi standing just
behind Akira’s shoulder, his gun leveled at the cognition on the ground, which
– after letting out one last choked breath – faded away into nothingness.
Behind them, the rest of the reserve team tumbled out of the air vent,
frantically scrambling after Akechi, until they realized they were too late to
do anything.
The air was still. Akechi holstered his gun. “I doubt we’ll encounter much more
resistance from here,” he said. His voice sounded like cold steel, hard and
emotionless. “Let’s go.”
 
===============================================================================
 
“Are you okay, Mako-chan?”
Makoto took a deep breath and opened her eyes. Several hours after they had
left Shido’s palace, the entire group was standing in front of Makoto’s
apartment. After they dispatched Cognitive Akechi, finding the final three
letters of invitations had been nothing more than a chore, one they completed
in nearly complete silence. With the second treasure route secure, it was
Morgana who suggested that they capitalize on their momentum and speak to Sae
that same evening.
Akira thought it was a good idea. They were tired and on-edge and they might
not make the most rational decisions, but Sae was in the exact same boat, and
sometimes the best way to fight fire was with fire itself – or in this case, to
get through to an irrational person, you had to act irrationally.
“I will be,” Makoto said finally, opening the leading the group inside. “Hey,
Sis…?” she called into the apartment. “Are you home?”
“I’m here, Makoto,” a voice called from another room.
The group carefully filed into the room. It wasn’t a small apartment by any
means, but eight people and a cat would make a crowd any they went. Most of the
group settled into the living room, some taking seats on the sofa, while Ryuji
stayed behind to guard the door, and Makoto took the lead, peering down the
hallways father into her apartment.
Akira heard the soft click of heels on wood, and then Sae appeared from around
a corner. She was still dressed for work; perhaps she had only just gotten home
herself.
“Ho—uh, hello… everyone?” Sae said, stopping short when she caught sight of the
entire group. She frowned in confusion, and then added, “Akechi-kun?”
Akechi gave a weak smile and held up his hand. “Good evening, Sae-san.”
“Sis, we need to talk,” Makoto said, softly. Sae crossed her arms, and Akira
could see the gears turning behind her eyes, how she was trying to figure out
what her younger sister and all her friends could possibly have to say.
Makoto’s hands were trembling when she continued to address Sae. “I’ve been
worried about you, Sis. How… how has work been lately?”
All at once, Sae lost her hospitable air. Her face darkened and her poise
straightened. She was quite formidable, even though she was only about as tall
as Ann. “If you’re here to interfere with my work, you’re wasting your time,”
Sae said tersely. “I’m already setting the stage to capture the Phantom Thieves
as we speak.”
That caused some panic to ripple through the group, but Makoto stood her
ground. “That’s a lie though, isn’t it, Sis?” she asked. Akira saw her clench
her fists to steady her tremble. She did not blink, and never broke eye contact
with her sister.
Sae looked appalled. “Makoto! How dare you talk back to me like that? I—”
“You have no evidence of the Phantom Thieves’ crimes. Nothing tangible,
anyway,” Makoto continued. “So you were planning on forging evidence and
arresting a false culprit. Am I wrong?”
Sae looked furious. “You say I have no proof? And what about you?” she scoffed,
turning aside and running a hand through her hair. “I can’t believe I have to
take these baseless accusations in my own house… from my own sister!”
“Ah… That’s where I come in,” Akechi spoke up, maneuvering to the front of the
group. “My apologies, Sae-san,” he said, and handed her a manila folder with
several papers inside it.
Sae’s eyes traveled frantically across the documents, her fury intensifying
every time she turned a page. It was a collection of pieces Akechi had
assembled in the days prior; there were e-mail transcripts, evidence request
forms, and general logs of Sae’s actions from the past few week – whatever he
could find that related to her work on the Phantom Thieves case. After about
five pages of searching, Sae abruptly ripped the entire manila folder in half
and tossed the pieces to the ground.
“Copies, of course,” Akechi said. “I have the originals locked away.”
“You do not have the originals,” Sae snarled. “At best, you have copies, and
copies are hardly decisive evidence.”
“Hmm? Are you so sure?” Akechi asked, with a look of feigned curiosity on his
face. “And besides that… you admit these papers do exist?”
Sae’s eyes bugged out and she practically growled. “Fine,” she said after a
moment. “So what if I am forging evidence? No one would believe you, not even
you, Akechi-kun.”
“Sis…” Makoto said softly.
“Dude!” Ryuji yelled from his spot over by the doorway. “Would you just chill
out and listen to us? We’re tryin’ to tell you that you’re bein’ set up!”
“More desperate lies,” Sae said.
Akechi sighed. “Again, I apologize, Sae-san,” He said. “Futaba-chan?” He asked.
Futaba handed his phone over, and after a moment of flipping through screens,
an audio log started to play.
[“…Sae-san seems a good candidate to me. She is reliable, but seems primarily
motivated by furthering her own career. Furthermore, she has a family history
in law enforcement…”]
“That’s… you, Akechi-kun?” Sae asked, stunned. Akechi however had turned his
back and retreated towards the far wall. The recording continued,
[“Her father was killed in the line of duty around three years ago.”]
“And who on earth is that?” Sae asked. Ann quickly shushed her so they could
continue the recording.
[“So I’ve gathered,” Akechi’s voice said. “That she became a prosecutor shows
she held a great respect for her father. I wonder, however, if his death
altered her perspective on her career path…?”
The man on the other side of the call grunted.
“Overall,” Akechi’s voice continued, “I would say she is a strong candidate to
develop a Palace naturally. That said, if we were to add some external
pressure…”
“I concur. I’ll speak to the SIU Director at once. Keep an eye on her in the
coming weeks and watch for a Palace to form. Contact me as soon as something
happens.”
“As you say, Sir.”]
After this, the recording abruptly cut off. The anger and passion had drained
from Sae’s face, leaving her looking pale. She nearly fell down onto the sofa
and raised a hand to her forehead, pushing back her bangs, looking bewildered.
“I have no recordings of the SIU chief, of course,” Akechi spoke up – he was
facing forward again, though he lingered back away from Sae, “But you must have
noticed the sudden increase in your workload and responsibilities, correct?”
Sae looked at him wordlessly, and nodded.
“Sis,” Makoto said, stepping forward until she could reach out and place her
hand on top of Sae’s. “I am a Phantom Thief. We all are.”
“You… you can’t be serious,” Sae said, but without an accusing tone; if
anything, she sounded like she desperately wanted Makoto to be joking. “If… if
you really are the Phantom Thieves, then how do you know all these things about
the investigation…?” Sae asked.
“Ah, that’s because Akechi-kun was a double-agent,” Haru said simply. “But
we’ve convinced him to join us now.”
Sae groaned, lying back on the sofa. “I… don’t want to believe this,” she said.
“Just a few days before I was going to conduct my investigation, too…”
“Guys,” Makoto said, “I think… it might be best if I talked to Sis alone now.”
Akira nodded. Before they left, Futaba handed Makoto a thumb drive with all the
recordings she had secretly made of Akechi, in addition to several audio logs
Akechi had made of his own conversations with Shido. They thought if there was
anything Sae would believe, it was irrefutable evidence.
“Call us if you need any help. Anything at all,” Akira said to Makoto, just
before they left. Makoto simply nodded.
“Is this really going to work…?” Akechi asked, as they made their way back
home.
Morgana shrugged. “We’ll just have to trust Makoto. We can’t worry about it
now. If she doesn’t succeed... we’re going to have a long day tomorrow. Let’s
get some rest.”
***** November V *****
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
“I don’t know if she believes me, but she is listening to me, at least,” Makoto
sighed.
On the other side of the phone, Akira found himself shaking his head. “It’s
more than that,” he said, “If she wanted, she could have arrested all of us
days ago. You got through to her, Makoto.”
There was a quiet, contemplative pause, and then Makoto said, “I think so, too.
Thank you, Akira-kun.” She let out a long, heavy breath. “Besides that… how
have things been on your end? Haru-chan told me… about the other day.”
It was Akira’s turn to sigh, flipping around in place on his sofa with renewed
agitation. It had been two days since they had confronted Sae, and while the
group was waiting to hear back from Makoto, they had largely spent their time
speculating about their impending fight with Shido – what his shadow would look
like, what his treasure could be, and of course, how to send their calling
card.
They were more or less split between wanting to send something really flashy,
overt, and unavoidable, or wanting to send a subtle but insistent message –
something that would dog Shido relentlessly until his treasure had been stolen.
“We could get Akechi to do it,” Futaba had suggested. “I mean, wouldn’t it be a
huge shock if Shido learned the Phantom Thieves had one of his pawns right in
their pocket?”
“I… don’t think I’d be opposed to that,” Akechi had said, with something almost
resembling amusement. “Did you have something in mind, Futaba-chan?”
A devilish smirk crossed her face. “That’s a secret. But… between you and me, I
might have a few ideas.”
“Oh hey, that reminds me of something, Akechi-kun,” Ann had said, turning to
face the detective, her smile fading away, “…there’s nothing else you wanna
tell us, right?”
Akechi had frowned. “I… if I had anything left to share, I would have done it
by now, Takamaki-chan.”
“I mean, I guess it might be nothing,” Ann continued, distractedly fiddling
with one of her ponytails, “Or maybe it’s just Shido’s shadow trying to mess
with us, but…”
“Oh,” Haru had interjected, “I think I know what you mean, Ann-chan.” She
turned her attention toward Akechi. “I’m sorry to have to bring this up, but it
was when we were fighting, um… you.”
Akira had felt Akechi stiffen up beside him.
“He mentioned me, and said there was something you hadn’t told us.” Haru
paused, her eyebrows furrowing up until she had a pained expression on her
face. “Do… do you know what he could have meant?”
The question hung low and heavy in the air for a long, silent minute before
Akechi said anything. “I… suspect it was nothing more than an attempt to
unnerve us,” he had said. Akira could see him slowly clenching and unclenching
his hand underneath the table.
“Wow dude,” Ryuji had said, “I can’t believe I never noticed it before, but
you’re a really bad liar.” Akechi looked taken aback, and Ryuji added, “Don’t
you remember? You totally flipped out after he said that. So what’s that
about?”
Silence.
“…it’s something bad, huh,” Ann had said.
“You’ve all been astoundingly accommodating of me thus far,” Akechi replied,
his voice so pained that he was practically pleading with them, "So please...
for the sake of the mission, please forget about what he said."
“…Okay, well you gotta tell us now,” Ryuji had said. Akechi gave him a
skeptical glare. “No, for real. I mean, you basically just admitted you’re
hiding somethin’, right? So spill. We don’t gotta keep you around for the final
fight, y’know.”
Akechi ran a hand through his hair, grasping tightly at his scalp and wincing.
“Tell me…" he began, "Do you think Shido would just accept some kid into his
good graces if I didn’t have something to offer him?” he had asked, largely
rhetorically, because he continued before even waiting for a reply,
“Furthermore… can you imagine how useful it would be for a politician to have
access to the Meta-verse?”
Akechi had pursed his lips, as if he was about to stop speaking, until Akira
gave him a gentle nudge with his knee. He thought he heard a pained whine
somewhere deep in Akechi's throat. “Interrogating a person’s shadow turned out
to be the perfect secret weapon,” he had said, slowly, methodically, “As it was
completely invisible – no paper trail.
“But… it wasn’t enough for Shido. Of course,” Akechi had laughed then,
seemingly at himself. “I don’t remember how he found out – perhaps I told him?
– that my persona could alter a person’s mind, not just their shadow, but once
he knew… I became quite busy.”
“You… you’re talking about the psychotic breakdowns?” Ann asked.
Akechi nodded.
“For real?” Ryuji gaped at him. “Robin Hood can do that? That tubby guy makes
people lose their minds?”
Akechi just shrugged. His eyes were boring holes in the table, pointedly
avoiding the looks from every other person in the room. “I thought I had the
upper hand when it came to the Meta-verse, but… it was frightening how well-
researched Shido was about cognitive psience.”
Then Akechi had trailed off. Akira studied his face, watched the way his
muscles were twitching as he fought to keep his expression neutral.
“Complete mental shutdown was just the next logical step after a psychotic
break,” Akechi continued, “Interrogating someone without their knowledge was
one thing… imagine how tempting it must have been to kill someone with no
evidence. A politician’s dream come true.”
It didn’t hit Akira as hard as he thought it should have, but he was still
stunned into silence along with the rest of the room. How many news reports had
he seen this year about some political figure suffering a sudden, inexplicable
death? Dozens, at least. Of course Shido had to have been behind it – Akira
thought he had figured that out long ago – but as for the method…
“The mental shutdowns…”
Haru's voice, somehow both sharp and delicate, like a scythe cutting through
grain, broke their silence. “How many of them did you cause?” she asked.
“All of them,” Akechi had said.
“Even my father?”
Akechi did not look up.
“…Yes.”
Emboldened by Haru’s question, Futaba took a step forward. “…and my mom, too.
Right?” she had asked.
“Wakaba Isshiki,” Akechi had said, slowly rolling the name over his tongue.
“She was one of the first – an experiment, you could say. It wasn’t a true
mental shutdown… more of a well-timed psychotic episode.”
“Though in the end, the result was the same,” Yusuke commented.
“I’m well aware of that,” Akechi had said. There was a sharp edge to his voice;
with his admission out in the open, his demeanor seemed to have shifted. He
raised his head, and Akira could see a cold, unemotional glint in his eyes.
Haru and Futaba were staring at him with a mix of fear and horror on their
faces, and when he saw, he scowled, and snapped at them, “What, do you want me
to apologize?”
“How can you say something so callously?” Ann had asked. She was glaring
daggers at him now, and had moved to stand beside Haru almost protectively.
“You’re talking about their family.”
“I’m sorry if that word doesn’t hold much weight to me,” Akechi had said with
barely-veiled contempt. “At any rate… this is why I simply cannot allow Shido a
change of heart. It’s too late.”
“You – you complete ass!” Ann barked, slamming a hand down on the table. Akira
nearly jumped in place. “Are you kidding me? You’re really gonna try and act
like you aren’t responsible too?”
“Do not lecture me, Takamaki,” Akechi replied, abruptly getting to his feet. “I
am aware of my own culpability. What I mean to say is, it’s too late for me.
I’ve already come this far. If I gave up now, then why did I…” Akechi bit his
tongue and cut himself off. “I’ve put too much into this. I won’t stop now.”
Ann blinked at him, her mouth parted on words that were stuck in her throat.
Akechi took a deep, steadying breath, and said, “…I should leave.”
“Goro, don’t –“ Akira had started to say, but Akechi quickly cut him off.
“This is your space,” he explained. Then he lowered his eyes, glancing at Akira
with a softened expression. “…I won’t go far,” he said quietly. “I’ll be back,"
and before Akira could protest, Akechi was out the door, leaving behind only
the soft chime of Leblanc’s door bells and a painfully awkward silence.
Ann sighed loudly and leaned back in her chair, massaging her temples. “Geez…”
she muttered.
“Did you not consider this a distinct possibility, Ann?” Yusuke asked.
“I mean, I… I guess I did,” she admitted, “But it’s still different to hear it
from him…”
She wasn't wrong; believing something and having your suspicious confirmed by
the source were two completely different feelings. One only had to look at Haru
- Haru, with a hand on her forehead, her fingers just pushing back into her
hair, her eyes squeezed shut - to see the difference.
“A-Akira,” Haru stammered, “I’ll… when Makoto contacts us, I’ll be ready, but
right now I need to… I need…”
It was taking all her strength to remain composed, Akira could tell. “It’s
okay, Haru,” he said, “Do what you need to.”
Haru looked at him, grateful – though he could see tears already forming in the
corners of her eyes – and took her leave from the café with hurried steps.
That would be where Haru’s story to Makoto would have to end, Akira figured,
but it hadn't been the end of things; he let the events that followed Haru's
departure seep back into his brain.
"I want to be alone," Futaba had announced. With her eyes obscured behind her
glasses and her chin pressed down close to her chest, Akira couldn’t read her
expression, but her voice had sounded just like Haru’s: ready to crack at any
moment. Instead of leaving, however, she had turned and ascended the stairs
into Leblanc’s attic.
Then there was a long moment where the remaining Phantom Thieves simply sat in
silence, maybe exchanging a glance every so often, lost in their own thoughts.
The atmosphere became heavy, oppressive, and stagnant - and Akira found himself
standing, pulling on a coat, and saying, “I’m going to go find him.”
He was distantly aware that Ryuji had give him a pitiful look - "Seriously,
dude?" he had said, "After everything that just came out, the one you're gonna
go after is him...?"
But Akira didn’t listen, or if he did, he didn’t deem the question worthy of a
reply.
It took him nearly half an hour before he found Akechi, who had taken refuge in
the far-back corner of a small diner a few blocks from Leblanc. Akira made his
way to the counter and ordered himself a coffee before he ambled over to
Akechi’s table.
“You shouldn’t have followed me,” Akechi said without looking up. “You’ll make
the others angry.”
“Let them be angry, then,” Akira replied, sliding into the seat across from
Akechi.
Akechi picked idly at his food. “You’re reckless,” he finally said, “to risk
your friendships for someone like me.”
“I know what I’m doing,” Akira replied.
At this, Akechi finally did look up, giving Akira a chance to study his
expression. His jaw was set and his eyes looked hard, but his whole posture was
deflated and worn down. “Have the others said anything?” he asked.
“Haru left just after you did,” Akira informed him, “and Futaba went upstairs
to be by herself. As for the others… I think everyone’s still trying to process
things.”
Akechi nodded thoughtfully. “And what about you?” he asked. “…I really have
told you everything now. What do you think of me now that you know what I am?”
There was something strange hidden in his words, a tiny hint of unmasked fear.
He was worried, Akira realized – afraid to hear Akira’s answer. After a brief
pause, Akira said, “I think I already knew.”
Akechi laughed without humor. “Of course.”
“I’m serious,” Akira said. He stopped in order to thank the waitress who
delivered his coffee, and once she was out of earshot, he continued, “Well, we
knew Shido had someone who could enter the Meta-verse working for him. You’d
have to know who that was, considering how closely you worked with him. If it
was Shido himself, or someone we needed to watch out for, you would have told
us. So when you didn’t…” Akira trailed off. “I guess I just assumed.”
"…You haven’t answered my question,” Akechi said, after a long, contemplative
pause.
Akira leaned forward in his seat, letting himself smile just a bit - a
disarming smile, he hoped - and said, “I already forgave you for planning to
kill me. So what do you think?”
“I think… you’re a fool,” Akechi shook his head, but there was no malice to his
words. “A complete idiot.”
“Love makes you stupid,” Akira said, raising his coffee cup to his lips and
smirking.
"...It must,” Akechi said. He was staring at the table, his bangs falling
loosely over his face and obscuring his eyes. “I don’t know how I got into this
situation otherwise.”
Akira’s eyebrows shot up.
Akechi must have realized the implication of his words as well, because he
quickly cleared his throat and changed the subject. “I know it’s a more…
permanent solution than yours,” he said, “but everyone I’ve taken out… I think
they deserved it. Perhaps excepting Wakaba-san.” He sighed and looked at Akira
with a grim smile. "If you knew the things some of my targets had done, you
wouldn't blame me for feeling no remorse."
"None at all?" Akira asked.
"I... regret that I allowed myself to be turned into a tool," Akechi admitted,
"but do I regret taking them out? Not at all."
Akira sipped on his coffee thoughtfully before replying. “I guess changing
someone’s heart is pretty permanent, too," he said, "It completely changes who
you are.”
“But you’re still able to be someone,” Akechi countered.
Akira couldn't argue with him there, so instead he asked, “You really don’t
want to change Shido’s heart?”
At this, Akechi leaned back in his seat and stared at the ceiling. “To be
honest, I’m… not really sure who I am, apart from Shido,” he admitted. “And...
I’m not sure I’m ready to find out. ”
Then they lapsed into silence, content to quietly sit across from each other
and finish their food and drink with an unhurried air. It wasn't until they
were leaving the diner, about ready to part ways, that Akechi spoke up again.
“I wonder…" he mused, looking out into the distance instead of at his
companion, "if you had met me before you met the others, would you have joined
me instead?”
Akira blinked. “…I don’t know," he said honestly. "I might have.”
Akira returned to Leblanc alone - at Akechi's insistence - and he found that
Ann, Yusuke, and Ryuji had left, and Morgana was missing as well. Upstairs,
however, he found Futaba curled up on his sofa, her legs tucked up against her
chest. Her eyes were red; she had almost certainly been crying.
She looked up when he arrived, and Akira thought she might burst into tears on
the spot. “Akira…” she said, her voice froggy and rough, “I don’t even hate
him.” She bit her lip and cast her eyes to the ground. “He killed my mom, and I
don’t hate him. I… I really am a terrible daughter after all, huh?”
“No. Not at all,” Akira said. He took a seat beside her, looping an arm around
her shoulders and pulling her into a hug. “You’re kind, Futaba.”
Futaba leaned into his touch, sniffling just a little. “I want to be angry!"
she said, "I want to be angry at him so badly, but I just… I hate this, Akira.”
Unable to think of any comforting words, Akira had simply hugged Futaba
tighter, letting her head fall against his chest weakly. He was surprised at
how perfectly she had described the conflict that he himself was feeling - all
without meaning to.
Her words lingered in Akira's mind as he allowed himself to return to the
present, and to Makoto, waiting patiently for him to speak. “Things… aren’t
great,” he said finally, “But I doubt they’re going to get better until we’ve
put this mission behind us.”
“Sis’s investigation is scheduled for tomorrow,” Makoto said pensively, “So…”
“It’s tomorrow or never,” Akira agreed.
 
===============================================================================
 
It was tough to fit the entire gang into Futaba’s tiny room, but somehow they
managed – Futaba in her chair, Morgana sitting on her desk, and the others
fanned out around them, all peering eagerly at her monitor. Akira surveyed the
group.
“Okay,” he said. “Is everyone ready?”
Most everyone nodded or made some kind of affirmative noise, with one
exception: Haru, who nervously cleared her throat. A few people glanced towards
her, but her eyes were fixed on only one person.
"Akechi-kun..." she began, “I wanted to –“
“Don’t,” Akechi interrupted, holding up his hand. "I already know. I did
horrible things to help a monstrous person because I thought it would make me
feel good about myself,” he grimaced. “...I really am the worst kind of
person.”
“N-no, that’s not…!” Haru exclaimed. Her hands curled into fists and she was
giving Akechi a glare more forceful than Akira could have imagined possible.
“You… S-stop feeling sorry for yourself!”
Her voice was a little shaky, but clear and loud, and it made Akechi’s eyes
widen with shock. "You’re right!" she continued, "You did do horrible things.
Even if you were acting under Shido’s orders, you… you’re still a murderer. If
it was up to me, you’d be in jail!” She took a deep breath, steadying herself.
“But if you’re truly sorry about what you did… then stop treating yourself like
a victim! All you’re doing is disrespecting the people you’ve killed!”
"Ah..." Akechi stared at her, "Okumura-chan..."
Haru gave him a firm look. “I can’t forgive you. But... if you’re honest about
wanting to atone, I’ll support you.” She turned her gaze toward Akira. “And
Akira-kun… I’m unhappy with you, as well. But I think I understand why you did
what you did now.” Haru took a deep breath. “So… I want to finish this! Okay?”
Akira felt himself smile.
Without any further prompting, Akechi procured his phone and called Shido.
There were a few tense, silent seconds, and then,
"Shido-san," Akechi said. His voice was sharp, quick, almost frantic, but in-
person he was struggling to keep from smirking. "Something - something's gone
wrong, I..." he paused, letting Shido speak into his ear, and then continued,
"N-no, you don't understand! The infiltration, it’s–“ he cut himself off again,
and his expression turned cross, “Stop! I need you to listen to me! The
Thieves, they aren't targeting Sae-san, they're targeting you!"
As soon as the words left his mouth, Futaba sprang into action. With Akechi’s
help, they were able to find contact information for anyone and everyone even
remotely tied to Shido – the real versions of the confidants from his Palace,
for instance, but also some of the lesser politicians, people who had come to
Shido asking for help eliminating a political rival – and Futaba wrote a
program to flood their e-mail with hundreds and hundreds of calling cards.
Shido himself would receive the brunt of her attack, but they wanted to make
sure that anyone who was even remotely connected to him would start to panic.
Akechi started to speak again – “I don’t know what they’re planning!” – but
halfway through the sentence he pulled his phone from his ear and hung up on
Shido, quickly shutting the device down completely, and then, to Akira’s
immense surprised, he giggled.
“Ah… forgive me,” Akechi said, bringing on hand up to cover his mouth, “That
was… cathartic.” Awkwardly, he cleared his throat, and then he added, “Um,
Futaba-chan, are we…”
"Done," Futaba said, pushing off from her desk and swiveling around to face the
group. She was grinning triumphantly.
"Okay then, let's hurry!" Morgana said, jumping to the ground. "Shido’s gonna
go into full damage-control as soon as he realizes what’s happening, so we need
to get out of here and into his palace fast.” He scrambled to the door and
pawed at it impatiently. “Let’s go, let’s go!!”
 
===============================================================================
 
Akira was surprised to realize that he was relieved when they entered Shido’s
palace and found the entire yacht on high alert. Their rapid-fire calling card
had been a gamble; they had never tried to steal a treasure so quickly after
announcing it, but it was obvious from the security that they had thoroughly
rattled Shido, and – as Morgana confirmed – his treasure had solidified in
record time.
As they reached their destination, the group slowed to a light jog and
eventually stopped altogether, coming to a halt just in front of a set of
massive elevator doors, behind which were undoubtedly both Shido’s treasure and
Shido’s shadow itself.
“Mona, Queen, Crow, I want you with me on the front lines,” Akira said,
stepping out in front to address the group. “Everyone else, you’ll be guarding
the perimeter while we fight. I don’t trust Shido not to pull some kind of
trick. And Oracle, I know you’ll be focused on our fight, but I need you to
keep an eye on the defensive team as well. Okay?”
Makoto frowned at him. “Joker, are you sure –“
Akira fixed her with a stern look and shut down her objections without a word.
There wasn’t time for this argument, and even if there was, Akira wasn’t
worried that Akechi would try to pull something after all this time.
This was, after all, what he had been waiting for.
They took the elevator into the central assembly hall, where - as expected -
they found Shadow Shido waiting for them. More importantly, Akira noticed
something glittering above him – a huge golden wheel. That certainly hadn’t
been there before; he glanced down at Morgana, who was looking at the ceiling
as well. They locked eyes and Akira gave a quick nod.
From his perch on the stage, Shadow Shido looked down at them with a sneer, and
he seemed disgustingly human - almost unrecognizable as a shadow - his
distortions were just that strong. “What disgusting wretches have managed to
worm their way here?” he asked. He had a voice that made Akira nauseous.
“You…” Ryuji started to speak, but Akechi threw out his arm and cut him off.
“Forget it,” Akechi said tersely, stepping forward and glancing over his
shoulder at the rest of the team. “Are we here to reason with him? Do you think
anything you could say would get through to someone like him?"
As Akechi spoke, Shadow Shido turned up his lip. “Even you? I should have known
to dispose of you sooner rather than later. Worthless boy.”
Akechi mouthed the word silently and drew his sword.
“Crow…” Akira warned, without taking his eyes off of the shadow in front of
him.
Shadow Shido’s blazing yellow eyes narrowed to furious slits. “You would draw
your weapon against me?” He spat towards Akechi – Akira felt a spike in energy
– and he continued, “A tool that won’t work is nothing other than garbage! It
was a mistake to keep you around so long, but... it seems I have the perfect
opportunity to dispose of you now.”
Akechi was shaking with rage; he gave a low growl and clenched his open fist –
and suddenly a soft blue light started to glow from his hand. Akira’s eyes went
wide.
“I…” Akechi stalked forward, letting the tip of his sword drag across the
ground behind him, “will not be insulted… by a worthless piece of shit like
you! Not anymore!” A sound like a firecracker snapped through the air and a
dark, deeply foreboding silhouette suddenly towered over Akechi.
“W-wait, what the heck?” Futaba yelped. “That’s…!”
“Crow has another persona??” Morgana yelled.
Akira thought he might laugh. Of course…
Akechi really was just like him.
He was shaken out of his reverie when he heard a pair of spells fire off in
quick succession, one blow landing on Shido and the second on Akechi. “I need
everyone to focus!” Akira yelled, pulling out his best Joker voice and
compelling them to listen. In seconds Makoto and Morgana had stepped into
position beside him, and out of the corner of his eye, he could see Ryuji and
Yusuke and Haru fanning out around the perimeter of the auditorium.
While Morgana and Makoto began hurling spells in an attempt to learn more about
Shadow Shido's defenses, Akira watched Akechi - now standing stock-still a few
yards away - his second persona still floating above his head. Akira could see
him yell something indistinct, and his persona produced a thick black smoke
that settled down over Akechi rather than Shido, absorbing into his skin. At
all once, Akechi's demeanor shifted; where he had been standing stiff with
fury, his whole body relaxed, and Akira thought he could see the start of a
cruel smile blossoming on his face.
“Woah, Crow!" Futaba’s voice suddenly yelped in Akira's head, "Your attack’s
way up, but your defense…!”
“Queen!” Akira immediately called out, “Can you dispel the debuff?”
“I… I can’t!" Makoto replied, "Anat won’t let me!”
"Damn," Akira hissed, and then he yelled out, "Crow!" - but it was useless;
Akechi surged forward and struck Shido’s beast with his sword, which emitted a
terrible, humanoid scream. In turn, Shadow Shido targeted Akechi relentlessly,
as if the other Thieves weren’t even there. To his credit, Akechi attacked
Shido with the same vigor – but Shido was fast, impossibly so, and for every
spell Akechi cast, Shido paid him back threefold. It was all Morgana could do
to keep Akechi’s health above zero.
The battle continued in this way, fought on three separate fronts: Shido, who
largely attacked Akechi, though he would take the time to throw out wider-
ranged spells as well; Akira, Makoto, and Morgana, who found themselves on the
defensive, simply hoping to control the situation rather than making any
progress; and...
Akechi, who seemed unreachable, who seemed completely deaf to Futaba or Akira
or anyone except for the shadow in front of him. The good news, such that it
could be called "good", was that he seemed hyper-focused on causing Shido as
much pain as possible, and that his new persona was astoundingly strong, and
versatile, too. Every so often, Shido would shape-shift, trying to force a
change of tactics, but no matter his form, Akechi seemed to know his weaknesses
intuitively, and he had a spell to suit his needs.
At times, Shido would try to speak to them - taunts, usually - and when he did,
Akira would command Makoto and Morgana to attack more directly; his words made
Akechi even more reckless, as if he was forced into a rage, but without the
chance for anyone to heal him - and so the sooner they shut Shido up, the
better.
Akira lost track of time. How long had they been fighting? Out of the corners
of his eyes, he would catch sight of Yusuke and Ryuji and Haru circling the
perimeter, and he thought they were saying something to him, but whatever it
was, he couldn't hear it. His mind was swimming with the din of the fight and
fatigue from repeatedly summoning different persona...
And then Akechi landed a blow squarely on Shido's chest and the fight was
simply... over.
Shido’s shadow fell to its knees, choking and spluttering as its grotesque
muscles faded back into regular skin, and Akira allowed himself to lower his
weapons. For a second, the whole room was utterly still...
Then Akechi was striding across the battlefield and up onto the stage, where he
immediately drew his gun and pressed the barrel flush against Shido’s forehead.
“Akechi!” Makoto yelled, scrambling up onto the stage after him, “Stop. You
can’t kill him.”
“I can,” Akechi said sharply. His hesitation, his desperation, both were gone,
and neither his voice nor his aim wavered in the slightest. “Give me one reason
why I shouldn’t.”
“A dead man can’t face justice,” Makoto said.
Akechi scoffed. “He won’t face justice out there. Even your sister knows that,
Niijima. His influence runs too deep.”
“Yeah, his influence does run deep, you idiot!” Ann said, moving to stand at
Makoto’s side. “He’s like, the most popular politicians in Japan. What do you
think his fans are gonna do if he turns up dead, especially this close to the
election?”
Akechi grit his teeth and said nothing.
“He’d become a martyr,” Yusuke commented. “In death, his positive traits would
be magnified, and his corruption would be minimized, perhaps even forgotten.”
“Crow…” Morgana said, his voice echoing down from the rafters above them, where
he was in the process of securing Shido's treasure, “You need to think. Is
killing Shido really going to make up for everything he’s done to you?
Everything he made you do?”
“Y-yes,” Akechi said, after a split second of hesitation. “He doesn’t deserve
to live… after everything he’s done.”
When Akechi’s voice faltered, Akira approached him at last; carefully stepping
into Akechi’s peripheral vision – he saw Akechi’s eyes dart toward him as he
moved – he drew close and placed a hand delicately on Akechi’s shoulder.
“After everything he’s done,” Akira repeated, “To have a change of heart and
suddenly become saddled with so much guilt… what do you think it would be like?
To live with the guilt of everything you’ve done?” He could feel Akechi's whole
body shaking, and while he refused to lower his arm, Akira could sense his
resolve crumbling. “…You can end this,” he said.
There was a long moment where Akira couldn't breathe, waiting to see if his
words had left an impression - and then Akechi snarled, pulling back and
clocking Shido across the face with his gun before he turned on his heel,
wrenching Akira's hand off of his shoulder, and retreating several steps away.
“Just take his treasure and let’s get out of here. Before I have a chance to
regret this…” he muttered, holstering his gun in the process.
“We’ve got it here, Joker!” Ryuji called out as he dashed down a set of stairs
at the back end of the auditorium, Morgana at his side, carefully balancing the
giant golden ship wheel on his back.
The Palace was eerily silent now that its master was beaten; other than the
sounds of the Thieves trying to catch their breath and their footsteps as they
walked briskly across the shiny wooden floor, there was nothing to hear, which
is why Akira very nearly jumped when Akechi stumbled and dropped to a knee,
clapping a hand to his forehead and wincing. Akira lurched forward to help him,
but Akechi held his arm out, keeping Akira at length.
“It’s nothing,” He managed to say, “I just… go on, I’ll only be a minute -
- nnh…!” He made a strangled noise and clutched at his chest.
There was light radiating out from beneath Akechi's hand now - partly white,
but also somehow shining black, like the reflection on a piece of onyx. The
beams merged together a few feet from Akechi's torso, becoming a swirling,
blindingly bright yin-yang. Akira blinked against the flash and when he opened
his eyes again, the light had disappeared.
Well, disappeared was the wrong word - more like they had given way to
something else. It had a lanky, smoky body that seemed largely humanoid, but
the way it rippled and shimmered in the air, like smoke, made its proper
dimensions impossible to determine. The strangest thing about was probably that
it lacked a neck; instead, its head was floating just above its shoulders,
bobbing and rotating in midair. Or maybe the strangest thing was the head
itself, which had two distinct faces – one pale and rounded, the other dark and
sharp, with a pair of curling horns protruding from its head.
“What?" Morgana exclaimed, staring wide-eyed at the creature, "Did his persona
transform?”
“Not just transformed, they fused!” Futaba corrected.
Akechi was staring, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes, at his new
persona, whose gaze shifted every so often as one face would rotate away and
let the other look forward. It started to move - Akechi flinched - but all it
did was draw its sword, extending its arm and bringing the flat edge of the
blade to rest just over Akechi’s shoulder.
"The hardest binds to shed are those forged by your own hand," the persona said
- or at least, it seemed to; Akira couldn't see a mouth on either of its faces.
"To let go of such a burden..." it continued, in a voice so deep it
reverberated in Akira's rib cage, "do you not feel the weight lifted from your
soul?"
Akechi made a choked noise and tried to look away, but the persona moved its
sword again, this time landing below Akechi's chin. It lifted the blade just
slightly and forced Akechi to look it in the eye.
"Face forward, now, for your own sake," one face said, which quickly flipped
around so that the second face could continue, "Look back, in time, so you may
not forget what it took to arrive here."
With that, the persona blinked out of existence, and Akechi looked as though he
had been released from a vice grip. Unsteadily, he rose to his feet and shook
his head to clear his thoughts. It was then that he noticed he had attracted
the attention of everyone else.
“Ah… apologies,” he managed to say, his cheeks flushed. “We should – the Palace
will collapse soon, won’t it? We should go…”
“What’s their name?” Akira asked. Akechi stared at him blankly. “Your persona.”
He clarified.
“Oh… Janus,” Akechi said. Then he blinked a few times in quick succession, his
hand fluttering to his forehead. He wobbled in place, and this time Akira was
able to catch him before he fell, taking his by the shoulder and allowing him
to lean against Akira for leverage. “Akira, I..." Akechi started to say, "I
feel strange.”
“It's fine," Akira said at once, "we're done here. We can go."
 
===============================================================================
 
After returning to reality, the Thieves managed to drag Akechi back to Leblanc
and put him to rest on Akira's futon with only a small amount of trouble.
Exhausted from their battle and nervous about the outcome, they then parted
ways - leaving Akira to tend to Akechi alone. After he collapsed on the bed,
Akechi had spent the next several hours asleep - Akira recalled the feeling
after he first summoned Arsene, and imagined Akechi was feeling the same - it
wasn't until the sun had set that Akechi finally stirred.
He sat up slowly, warily, trying to determine where he was. Akira, who had been
lounging on his sofa, sat up, drawing Akechi's attention, and his expression
seemed to soften a bit.
"Ah... Akira-kun," He said, with a voice like sandpaper. "How long...?"
"A few hours," Akira replied. "How are you feeling?"
"I'm... all right," Akechi said slowly, as if he was trying to confirm that he
was in fact all right; he ran his hands over his arms and shifted his legs,
checking for injuries and finding none. He slid his legs over the edge of the
bed and pulled himself to his feet. "Have you heard anything? From Shido..." he
asked, and Akira shook his head. A wry smile came to Akechi's face. "I suppose
it's too early to hope for any news. Forgive me, I'm... anxious."
"It's fine," Akira said, getting to his feet and moving to meet Akechi, who had
found his attache case sitting at the foot of Akira's bed, and looked as though
he was preparing to leave. Akira shifted in place, and then reached out to tap
Akechi on the shoulder. “Stay the night?” he asked.
He knew the answer before Akechi even spoke from the way the corners of his
lips turned down just slightly, how his eyes flicked away for a split second.
“It’s not that I don’t want to,” he said, “But I… there are things I need to
take care of.”
Akira couldn’t trust his voice not to crack, so he kept his mouth closed, only
managing to give Akechi the barest hint of a nod. It wasn’t reassuring, but he
thought that giving false reassurances would be worse, somehow – like he was
lying right to Akechi’s face.
And though he was fully ready to leave things there, to see Akechi off into the
fading afternoon without another word, Akechi paused in Leblanc’s doorframe and
looked back at Akira.
“I'll come back," he said, "So... will you be patient with me?”
Unwittingly, a tiny smile came Akira’s face. “Of course,” he said.
Chapter End Notes
     Janus: a Roman god presiding over beginnings, gates, transitions,
     time, duality, doorways, passages, and endings. Often depicted as
     two-faced, as he looks to the future and to the past.
***** Epilogue: December *****
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
Akira didn’t hear from Akechi for over three weeks.
It wasn’t for lack of trying on his part, either; every other day he would text
Akechi in some capacity: to say good morning, sometimes, or to keep him updated
about the Thieves – like that Sae was heading up Shido’s criminal investigation
– or even about mundane things, like finals and coffee and the weather...
He never got a response. He wasn’t even sure Akechi had seen his messages. Yet
if he tried to set his phone aside for even a day, his chest would start to
ache and he would end up writing something short and stupid that embarrassed
him even further, and made him wonder if he wasn’t just driving Akechi away
with his incessant contact.
It wasn’t until well into December that Akira’s phone buzzed and he saw
Akechi's name.
>>Goro: I don’t suppose you’re awake, are you?
Akira unlocked his phone, blinking against the bright screen. It was late,
certainly after midnight and probably later, but Akira had felt restless all
evening. While Morgana drifted off to sleep on the pillow beside him, Akira had
stared at the ceiling and waited – maybe for this moment, he thought, with a
wry smirk. He quickly typed out a reply,
>>Akira: I’m awake. Can’t sleep?
>>Goro: Something like that.
>>Goro:I know it’s an inconvenience at this hour, but I’d like to see you. If I
may.
>>Akira: I want to see you, too. Come over.
>>Goro: I’m… actually already here.
>>Goro:At Leblanc, that is.
Taking care not to disturb Morgana, Akira scrambled to his feet and stumbled
blindly across the room, down the stairs. He could see the faint outline of
someone standing just outside the door. He fumbled with the lock and tugged the
door open with impatient force.
Outside, the sky was wrapped in slate grey clouds, dark and foreboding, but
Akechi was there, illuminated only by the lantern beside Leblanc's door. Akira
watched as little flurries danced down through the air, tiny snowflakes coming
to rest in Akechi’s hair, on his shoulders, melting away against his heavy
coat.
Akechi met Akira's eyes and gave him a small, shy smile. “I don’t want to be
rude,” he said, his voice soft and muffled in the cool winter air, “but… it’s
quite cold, Akira-kun.”
Akira gave a start and stepped to the side, holding the door open for Akechi.
“C-come in. I’m sorry; come in,” he said. Akechi nodded politely and took his
offer. Akira closed the door behind him, and then they were standing quietly in
the dark. Akira flipped the door's lock closed again. “It's good to see you,”
he added, just for the sake of having something to say.
“I’m sorry I disappeared for so long,” Akechi said, lowering his head. “I was
thankful for your texts. I know I should have said something…”
Akira waved his hand. “Don’t worry about it.” He motioned for Akechi to follow
him into Leblanc. “Do you want…” Akira started to say, but he quickly trailed
off. His tired brain was operating on auto-pilot, forgetting the circumstances.
“Were you about to offer me coffee at two in the morning?” Akechi laughed, and
the sound lit a match in Akira’s chest.
“…maybe,” Akira replied. He had to bite his cheek to keep from breaking out
into a dumb smile.
“May we sit?” Akechi asked. “I’ve been on my feet for a while.”
“’A while’?” Akira repeated, leading the way through the dark café towards one
of the booth seats. “At this hour?”
“As I said, I couldn’t sleep,” was all the explanation Akechi was willing to
give.
They settled down, side-by-side, close enough that their knees bumped together,
and Akira felt suddenly nostalgic for the midsummer nights they had spent
together, back before everything went to hell. How long had it been? Barely a
few months, but it couldn’t have seemed farther away in Akira’s memory.
“So, what have you been up to?” Akira asked.
Akechi took a deep breath. “Primarily isolating myself from my previous work
associates," he said. "Changing phone numbers, re-routing my mail to a P.O.
box... I'm in the process of moving to a new apartment, as well." He gave a
long, tired sigh. "...thankfully, I find the media seems to have forgotten
about me,” he said. “I suppose they’re too concerned with Shido’s confession to
care about me any longer.”
“Is that a bad thing?” Akira asked.
Akechi shook his head. “No, not particularly. To be honest, I’m grateful for
the respite.”
Akira smiled, feeling around for Akechi's hand; the detective flinched at the
unexpected contact but allowed Akira to twine their fingers together, Akira's
thumb rubbing small, soothing circles against the back of Akechi's hand.
“And what about you?" Akechi asked, "Have you all continued to work as Phantom
Thieves?”
“Well," Akira began, "We've made a few trips into the Meta-verse here and
there. But... it's mostly been for Morgana's sake." Akira trailed off, and
Akechi didn't press him for details; he was thankful that even after so much
time, Akechi still seemed to recognize his mannerisms. He lightened his tone
and added, "Besides… we changed Sae’s heart without ever touching her shadow.
Maybe Shibuya doesn’t need the Phantom Thieves anymore.”
Akechi hummed thoughtfully. “Speaking of Shibuya…" he said slowly, "you’ll be
leaving soon, won’t you? To go home.”
“Soon…” Akira repeated, “Sort of. Around four months, I guess.”
“You couldn’t stay here forever, I suppose,” Akechi said. “It would be cruel to
uproot you from your home permanently.”
Akira laughed dryly. “Not much waiting for me back there, though.”
He had hoped Akechi would take the joke, but if anything, his companion seemed
to grow more solemn. Akira could feel him fidgeting restlessly.
“Would you come back?” Akechi asked.
Akira blinked. “Of course I would.”
“To see your friends?”
“And you.”
Akechi gave a short, self-depreciating laugh. “I’m not a friend, then?” he
asked.
“I don’t make a habit of kissing people I’m just friends with, Goro,” Akira
replied, taking his free hand to Akechi's cheek and brushing aside a loose tuft
of his hair. This, at last, earned Akira the blush he was hoping for; not that
he could see it in the low light, but he could feel it in the way Akechi's
breath caught, the way he looked to the side, a bit embarrassed, and the way he
nonetheless leaned, in just slightly, to meet Akira's touch.
In the quiet pause that followed, a thought came to Akira. “Hey...” he said,
and Akechi looked up. “Does this have anything to do with why you disappeared
for three weeks...?"
Akechi's expression fell, and he unconsciously tightened his grip on Akira's
hand. "I... thought it would be best if I accustomed myself to your absence."
He said slowly.
"What?" Akira asked, before he could stop himself. "Why?"
"For when you leave," Akechi replied. "...you are going to leave. Aren't you?"
"It - it's not like that," Akira stammered. His heart was starting to hammer
and catch in his throat, and his tongue felt like an obstacle in his mouth,
something he had to fight around in order to speak. "I have to go home," he
said, "But I - I don't want that to be the end of things." He felt a sudden
wave of nausea, and added, "Unless that's what you want?"
Akechi shook his head frantically, and a little part of Akira's anxiety lifted.
He tried to smooth his voice over, and said, "So it's okay. It's not like I
wouldn't be able to visit."
“You would, but..." Akechi trailed off. "I suppose I’m quite selfish,” He said
at last, and laughed at himself. “I don’t want to share you with anyone else.”
"You don't have to - you won't," Akira said immediately. He slipped his hand
away from Akechi's hold so he could cup his face with both hands. "I like you.
I don't want to share you, either. And... just because I have to leave for a
while doesn't mean I want this to end." Akechi squeezed his eyes shut and
tentatively brought his hands to Akira's shoulders to steady himself. “Goro,”
Akira murmured, rubbing a thumb across Akechi's cheek, catching a tear and
wiping it away, “I’m telling the truth. I promise. So... be honest with me?”
“Then, honestly... I don't want you to leave,” Akechi admitted. Akira could
feel his shoulders start to shake, his hands curling into trembling fists,
clutching at Akira's shirt. Akira brushed away another tear, and Akechi let go
of Akira's shoulders to wrap his arms around his back and pull their bodies
close, almost painfully so. Akira responded in kind, pulling Akechi into an
awkward embrace, their legs dangling partly off of the booth seat. “Don't -
don’t leave me, please,” Akechi's voice dropped to a whisper, and when Akira
pressed his lips against his neck, he began to cry in earnest.
"I won't," Akira promised.
Chapter End Notes
     We're finally here!! can you even believe it?
     More than anything else, I want to say THANK YOU to everyone who read
     and enjoyed my fic. ^_^ Your support has been incredible and I
     couldn't be happier to finish up this story. <3 So thank you,
     everyone!
Please drop_by_the_archive_and_comment to let the author know if you enjoyed
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