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philliamwrites · 3 years

Text

i could make you need me all the time (pt.2)

Fandom: Persona 5

Pairing: Akira/Akechi

Tags: #justice rank 8 spoilers, #slight angst, #persona 5 royal spoilers, #new semester spoilers

Words: 3.4k

Summary: Akechi is counting numbered days, preparing himself for the end. Akira being himself doesn't help.

Note: Part 2 | Inspired by ‘Make it Holy’ by The Staves.

i could make you need me all the time

Lavenza is not what Akechi has expected. Not that he’s expected anything specific in the first place, but a little child with golden eyes, staring at him with such an intense gaze that he is the one looking away first, is new. Akira being too prying for his own good is nothing new though. He stays after everyone leaves the nurse’s room, leaning against a white wall between two areca palms while watching Akechi on his quest to find band-aids he doesn’t even need.

Nothing and everything changed after Christmas Eve.

They aren’t fooling around in Save Rooms anymore. No one buys their ‘Forgot something and have to go back’-trick because no one leaves Akira and him alone for even a second. Akira thinks it’s rude. Akechi doesn’t really care. If possible, he doesn’t want to see him at all.

“My sports uniform looks good on you,” Akira says. There’s a slight tilt to his voice Akechi’s heart always responds to with a little jolt—the eradicated-the-enemy-fashionably-tilt, the-I’m-your-rival-don’t-get-too-cocky-tilt, the post-orgasm-satisfied-tilt. Where once adrenaline shot through his body, only electricity remains that paralyses him.

It’s the first time his body simply shuts down instead of running or fighting, effectively betraying him.

Avoiding Akira is like trying to run away from a bee while wearing cologne that smells of pansies. It isn’t too evident in Maruki’s palace. Any slip-up means potentionally risking all their lives, so Akira approaches him for obligations only. Healing, consultation, strategy. Akechi lets him, always catching him staring at his ass though.

Everything gets trickier when they’re in the real world. There’s only so long Akechi can hide in his cold one-room apartment, emptied by Shido’s henchmen at some point during his disappearance in December, before a phone call or message summons him to meet with the rest. He does want to defeat Maruki. He does not want to achieve it by pretending to be friends.

“If you have time to simply stand there, why not use it to plan our next infiltration?” Akechi asks without looking back, pretending that rummaging through the cupboards requires his whole attention. He’s a man on a mission, adamant that if he only ignores Akira long enough, he’ll just lose interest like a child growing bored with their toys.

He underestimates him.

Again.

“Morgana and the rest have that covered.” Footsteps draw closer. Akechi’s body tenses into one hard, solid muscle. “I’m here because there’s something we need to talk about.”

“Is that so?” Akechi closes a cabinet door with a loud bang, marching to the other side of the room. “Because I have nothing to say to you.”

There are million things he wants, maybe needs to say, but simply thinking about them closes Akechi’s throat off, choking him with this bitter taste of rotten glory and ruined dreams. He’d rather die than allow this weakness to take hold of him.

“Akechi.”

He ignores him, rummaging through a drawer that’s crammed full of snacks. No band-aids. He hates this place.

“Akechi.”

Dull pain throbs at the back of his head. He tells Robin Hood to make Loki stop, but silence in return reminds him that since the boiler room, Robin has been gone. It’s easy to forget that sometimes. It isn’t as easy falling asleep again after waking from a nightmare where he hears Robin’s atrocious screams still ringing in his head.

He tears through the next drawer, refusing to think about anything else except band-aids, band-aids, band-aids, what shitty nurse room doesn’t have band-aids—

“Goro.”

Akira is so close; he feels his warm breath on the back of his neck.

Fight, flight or stay to be devoured. Akechi barely turns his head, eyes creeping up slowly to Akira’s face. Being this close was never a problem before—Akechi has had enough time to count every single lash, black as spilt ink, cursing them curling like crescent moons and throwing long shadows over high, winged cheekbones he can draw with closed eyes on paper. This face is as familiar as his own. He’s seen it angry, laughing, frowning; wearing a wicked, cruel smile, contort in hot, all-consuming pleasure: slightly open mouth with pink, swollen lips, blushing, hot cheeks. Dead, empty eyes. Red, thick blood between slanted eyebrows.

In his nightmares, Akechi hears Robin’s scared screams in the boiler room, and sees Akira’s slack face slam on the prosecutor’s desk.

No. There really is nothing to say.

“Goro?” Akira’s voice is barely a whisper. “You’re shaking.”

If there is a time for his body to betray him, it isn’t now. Akechi turns away, his mission forgotten. Right now, he needs to get as far away from here as possible. Akechi never feared his mistakes to catch up to him some day, but Akira, alive and kicking Akira, proves him wrong over and over again. “If there’s nothing else, it’s time for me to go,” he says.

He shoves Akira out of his way, quickly pulling his hand back as if burnt by this simple touch. He manages to cross the room halfway before Akira’s voice makes him stop.

“Were you looking for this?”

He turns around. Akira is holding a partially opened package of band-aids, presenting them like bait to prey that doesn’t know any better. Akechi wants to bare his teeth.

“I’m not here to play games,” he hisses, stomping towards Akira who beelines towards him as well, approaching Akechi too fast. Two feet until they crash like stars and swallow everything. One foot until they collide like cars and explode into tiny, burning pieces. Before they set the room in flames, Akira halts.

“Good,” he says and takes Akechi’s wrist—far gentler than he’d expected or liked, and leads him to the sitting area near the door where he can see the exit so close and yet so far. “Because I’m not playing.”

Akechi clicks his tongue.

He drops begrudgingly into an armchair, folding one leg over the other and crossing his arms. Akira knees down in front of him, just a few inches away from his legs. It reminds Akechi of a similar image several months ago, only he was still acting for an audience that never cared about him in the first place, and Akira was wearing a tight, black latex cop uniform.

Only one of those things makes him want to go back to that time.

“Let me,” Akira says, holding out one hand to Akechi like a knight asking for allowance to kiss his maiden’s fair hand.

“I’m not a little kid,” Akechi hisses but it lacks its usual venom. Akira doesn’t pressure. Wordlessly, he waits, the inside of his palm lying open, vulnerable.

Akechi stares daggers at it, hoping it will simply disappear. When the result disappoints, he takes the easy route and slaps his hand in Akira’s. “Just hurry up.”

Akira hums. He’s inspecting Akechi’s hand, searching for the injury like a scientist looking for the answer of the afterlife. His hold is light like a feather, careful and hesitant, as if the universe granted him the honour to look after a priceless treasure that builds kingdoms and burns countries.

“Where do you need it?”

“I can do it on my own.”

“Oh, I don’t doubt your abilities.” Fumbling with the bandage, Akira pulls his eyebrows together in concentration, a little smile flirting with his lips. Akechi knows it, the everything-is-a-game-to-me-smile but this time stakes are too high for him to join. “But humour me. Now, where do I put it on?”

He glares at him. Seeing no way to win, he turns his hand, his palm fitting perfectly against Akira’s, showing the little, shallow cut on one finger.

Akira stares at it, very unimpressed. “Are you an actual child?”

Akechi pulls his hand away—too slow. Akira’s fingers latch around his wrist, holding him in place. “Wait, wait, I’m joking.”

“You’re not funny,” Akechi replies drily. He watches Akira put a bandage around his finger, smoothing it out with his thumb.

“This…” He digs his thumb slightly where the wound is, making it burn but Akechi doesn’t flinch. “… looks like a ring, doesn’t it?”

Akechi raises one eyebrow. “It doesn’t.”

“Like a wedding ring,” Akira continues as if he didn’t say anything. Akechi looks down at the band-aid around his ring finger. He feels too awake all of a sudden, yet extremely tired. Everything buzzes, from his head to his toes, and he can’t tell if it’s Maruki’s Actualized Happy World or Akira touching him or the fact that he should not be. He remains very still, like a corpse, and stares over Akira’s curly mop of hair at the mirror hanging at the opposite end of the room. Brown eyes stare back at him—unflinching, lifeless like the glassy eyes of a dead fish until he blinks and it’s just his normal, usual face.

“Don’t tell me you’re entertaining the absurd idea of marriage,” he mocks, a crooked smile cutting his mouth into two red lines. “What are you, a lonely housewife in her thirties?”

“What can I say, I’m a romantic at heart,” Akira answers. He isn’t smiling.

Akechi’s grin dies. “If you have time to think about something this foolish, then there will be no problem in securing the path to the treasure tomorrow, right?” His voice sounds weird to his own ears. He feels sick.

Finally, his hand is set free as Akira places it carefully on Akechi’s knee.

“You’re smart enough to figure out where I’m going with this conversation,” Akira says, rising to his feet. He seems a little absent minded, his eyes unfocused and thoughts far away from this room. “Think about my proposal.”

“Propo—” Akechi jumps to his feet, his ears buzzing with a swarm of angry bees. He’s so close to Akira, their chest almost touch. He smells it again: coffee, washing powder, sweat. No blood this time. It feels wrong. “I have no interest in entertaining this stupid idea.”

“Do you hate it because it’s a social construct and divorce is way too expensive,” Akira asks, his eyes snapping back to Akechi and focusing with too much determination in them on him. “Or is it the thought of living with someone that allows you to be vulnerable that scares you.”

I’m not scared of anything, Akechi wants to say. What comes out instead is, “Why did you ask if you know the answer already?”

“Because I want to hear it from you. I want to know what you want.”

What does Goro Akechi want? No one has asked him this before, so he’s taken aback a second, speechless. A lump grows in his throat, burning every time he swallows.

“I don’t want someone else to decide how I live my life,” he says eventually. Slowly, word for word so Akira understands that what makes Goro Akechi the person he is, is something he was never allowed to have in the first place and the crave for it now is like craving air underwater. “I don’t want to be someone’s puppet.”

Akira’s voice grows louder. “Then what do you want?”

Akechi’s body shudders with rage. I want to live.

He turns around, blinking furiously against the burning in his eyes. “We’re done talking. You can contact me if there are important things we need to discuss. That’s what I want.”

There is no answer, but he knows he’s got his point across. Some people take Akira’s silence for what it is, when sometimes it speaks louder than his words. Right now, he feels it like a solid pressure against his skin, leaving dents and reshaping his body and he’s afraid to turn around and look in the mirror again.

Marriage.

Marriage with Akira Kurusu of all people.

What an absolutely stupid, horrendous idea. What a horrifying dream and scary hope to plant into someone whose soil is home to maggots and vermin that only know the taste of blood. Akechi takes that seed and hides it somewhere deep, deep inside his chest where the dirt hasn’t reached; an almost forgotten place that still loves toy guns and collects Phoenix Ranger Featherman stickers to put them on his bento lunch box.

That is the only part of himself he wishes Akira could get to know before the end as well.

#philliamwrites #ao3 #fanfiction #persona 5 #p5 #persona 5 royal #p5r #shuake #goro akechi #akira kusuru #ren amamiya #perosna 5 joker #p5 joker

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kareofbears · 4 years

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blinding lights, chapter 4/4

Their height gap is a wide one, but in no way is Sumire going to let Akechi keep looking down on her. “It became my business the minute we wanted the same thing: to fix this reality."

---

Akechi and Sumire have to traverse through the events of the third semester without Akira (or rather, against him).

read on ao3 or under the cut :)

No matter how long fate will allow him to live, Akira would never forget Ryuji’s awakening.

Blood splattering on the carpet as he rips the mask carved into his face, the explosion that erupts from his very core like an airstrike, the scream so raw and guttural and unleashed, as if a part of Ryuji that’s always been strapped down and chained has been freed after years of confinement.

But it was the look on his face, the manic grin that emerged from the pitfalls of anguish is the part that’s burned into his memory. Any hesitation that was there was wiped clean—all that’s left was triumph and sheer rage, an insurmountable amount of it laid bare on his face and in his eyes so prevalent that Akira had barely noticed Captain Kidd behind him.

“What the hell—” Akira stammers, unable to process that Ryuji’s here, in Maruki’s Palace. There’s a sag in his shoulders, the effect of the curse attack probably causing him to feel heavy and drained. That’s why they should always be wary of curse skills; they’re a direct attack on their physical and mental state. (Once, it had hit Ann particularly hard in Futaba’s Palace. If Akira’s hits became harder after that as a precaution, nobody mentioned anything.) “Why are you—”

Ryuji turns and anything that Akira might’ve said dies in his throat. He barely looks like someone who took Eigaon head-on, but it doesn’t stop Akira from feeling waves of nausea anyway.

“Are you hurt?” Ryuji asks tersely.

“No, but—”

“Good,” the look on his face was one of pure, irrepressible fury, one to rival his awakening. “Then I can get pissed off without having to feel bad.”

Akira nods and touches his mask. “We will, I know you’re probably confused but you got hit pretty bad—”

“I didn’t—”

Personas burst in and out, flickering like shadows from TV static. “Sorry, just give me—”

“Stop looking for—”

“You got hurt, at least let me—”

“God dammit, Kurusu!” he snaps, and grabs his wrist, grip lax. “Why aren’t you listening? I said I was fine, wasn’t I? I’m not hurt, I don’t want your effin’ diaharan. I just want you to talk to me about why you’re here and I wasn’t.”

“Ryuji, it’s a long story,” Akira starts, forcing his voice to be steady.

“Long story, my ass!” Letting Akira’s hand fall, his glare hard as steel. “I was in some messed up world where Kamoshida didn’t slap my leg like a toothpick and everyone was in it with me. I have zero clue if you were in it from the start or if you got out if it later on, but I know one thing:” he jerks his thumb behind him. “I had to rely on Yoshizawa and Akechi Goro of all the damn people in the world.”

“They told you?” Akira hisses quietly.

“Jesus Christ, this isn’t about them!” Ryuji shouts, and his hands are clenched into tight fists. “Why does it matter that they told me? The point is that you didn’t, and it really fucking sucks that my leader, my best fucking friend would let me live like that!”

“It’s because I’m your leader!” he snaps, and he realizes his voice is raised. “It’s because I’m your best friend that I did that!”

“What are you even saying?” His fists are shaking, his frustration threatening to break out.

“I’m saying that the crap you guys went through was hell. God, just look around! Yusuke lost what was supposed to be his father figure, Haru actually lost her dad and had to put up with some predatory douchebag, and Futaba…” Akira clenches his teeth. “She’s fifteen, Ryuji. She’s a year younger than us, and she’s gone through so much—”

“And they still moved on, didn’t they? They still get out of bed everyday, still go out and live life, they still have a purpose. They want to live in the reality they fought for and you just want to, what, take that away from them?” his jaw locks tight. “Did you forget that it’s always, with no damn exception, supposed to be a unanimous decision?”

A long, heavy beat fills every crevice of their bones.

And then: “Your mother.”

“What?”

“You love your mom more than anything,” Akira says. Early memories of Ryuji roll in his mind, and even those are filled with him raving about his ma, about how she was the only one on his side when it felt like the entirety of Japan was against him. And how she just smiled when she found out Ryuji lost his scholarship. “You want to be in track for her again, to help her. That’s what you wanted—”

“Are you seriously bringing in the mom card? She’s moved on, Akira! She’s swallowed what happened, and we’re fine. Yeah, it’d be a hell of a lot easier to have that scholarship, but she’s over it. We all are.”

“But don’t you wish it never happened?” Akira insists, urgent. “You don’t have to put up with it, Ryuji. You have that choice.”

“And my choice is to live in a reality that we all decided to live for! It’s our choice and you almost took that away from us! I just don’t get why you would do that, Akira. You’re so damn smart, but why couldn’t you see that we learned to be happy?” Ryuji takes Akira’s face in both of his hands. “What were you thinking, Kurusu?”

He opens his mouth, ready to argue, but he finds himself looking into brown eyes instead—still furious, but beneath it all is confusion, and above all, hurt. It was the one thing Akira wanted to prevent above everything else.

He realizes, a bit belatedly, that’s he’s so, so stupid.

“I just want every single one of you to be happy,” Akira whispers.

“I know.”

“I thought this is what you wanted.”

“I know,” Ryuji begins to deflate a little, the tension seeping out of him.

“I’m—” Akira swallows past the lump in his throat, and averts his gaze. Shame burns hot as fire inside of him. “I’m sorry.”

“For?”

“For not talking to the group first. You’re right—I forgot about the unanimous decision part.”

“Damn right you did.” Ryuji lets go of his face, sighing. Scrubs his hair. “I’m still mad at you. Like, crazy mad.”

Before Akira can say anything, Ryuji pulls him by the shoulder and incases him in a tight hug. “But I forgive you.”

Slowly, he hugs him back. “I won’t do it again.”

Ryuji squeezes him tighter. “I know you won’t.”

They stay like that for awhile—in between realities and in each other’s arms.

—

Footsteps. Lots of them. Not as fast as Ryuji’s, but louder, overlapping one another. Approaching fast.

“You’re screwed, dude,” was all the warning Akira got before he was released and promptly tackled onto the ground by two separate entities screaming into his ear.

“Akira!”

“I’m gonna punch you so hard—”

“Kurusu, I am so crazy pissed at you—”

“What did you expect?” Makoto sighs as Ann grabs him by the collar and shakes him vigorously. “It’s only natural we react like this since you abandoned us.”

“I—did—not—abandon—” Akira tries, but Mona clambers onto his shoulders and is attempting to restrain him in a headlock. He doesn’t have the heart to tell him that he can barely even feel it.

“You didn’t tell us anything!” Ann yells. “We had to rely on pancakes over there—”

“I had believed that the relationship we had forged was an admirable one, but I would have thought you’d talk to us about it first—” Yusuke says, but stops short when his eyes land on Futaba.

The group quiets down, and even Ann and Morgana cease their harassment.

Hands gentle and heart thudding, he coerces the two off of him and sits cross-legged on the cold tile, awaiting his execution by the hands of a fifteen year-old girl.

Her Metaverse footwear adds about two inches to her stature, barely breaking into the realm of five feet, but as she slowly walks to where Akira is, he can’t help but feel her towering presence.

She stops an arm’s length away, her goggles perched on top to reveal her expression; blank except for the slight twist in her mouth.

Unconsciously, everyone else had forced a semi-circle around the two like a mediocre street fight, waiting on bated breath for the verdict. It takes some effort, but Akira manages not to look away from her gaze.

For a moment, only the buzz of the lights can be heard.

“I have some guesses about what’s going on,” she says eventually. “But you know everything, I think. And you didn’t tell us.”

Akira swallows and Futaba pushes on. “I get the feeling of wanting to be alone. I’ll help you have that if that’s what you want. But,” her blank expression cracks and her voice begins to wobble. “Don’t try and leave like that. You helped me, back in the summer. And you won’t even—” her breath hitches, and Akira’s chest clenches. “You won’t even let us do that for you.”

“...Futaba—”

She reaches forward towards him and he tenses for the hit, only for her to pat his head firmly. “I know,” she says softly. “Ryuji chewed you out pretty good, and there’s no hecking way I’m letting you pull something like this again. I just wanted to tell you what I was feeling.”

Akira nods and tries for a smile. It probably doesn’t come out right. “As if I could ever leave behind my annoying, genius key item again.”

“You’re such a loser,” she snorts before throwing herself on Akira, arms opened wide and crushing every ounce of air out of him.

Somewhere behind him, Ryuji yells out: “Group hug for the dumbass leader!”

“I am not a—” Akira gets out before his breath is snatched out of him four, five, six more times.

“Ouch, Yusuke that’s my back—”

“Don’t be mean. You know he’s got a lot of sharp angles cause he eats six times a week, max—”

“Mona-chan, your fur is so soft. Do you use a conditioner?”

“Well, sometimes when Akira is in the bathhouse and I’m feeling a little brave—”

Voice muffled, Akira groans dramatically. “I can’t breathe…dying…”

“Oh, puh-lease, you can’t die from too much love!”

“Besides,” Makoto pops her head out from somewhere in their impromptu football pile. “I doubt Ryuji would let you die after he took the hit from—”

“Oh, hell,” Akira blinks. Patting random limbs around him, “Let me up. I need to check-in with Akechi.”

“It’s okay, senpai.”

A pause, and they all gradually turn their heads to the sound of the newcomer’s voice.

With a little struggling and some light shoving, Akira stands. “I missed,” he says quietly. “I got sloppy.”

“Did you really believe that that messy attack would cause lasting damage?”

Akechi comes up from behind Sumire, face gaunt and trudging, but his contemptuous expression immovable. “It’s insulting that you believed I’d be anything less than fine.”

The group tenses, all sense of levity evaporated—in its place is wariness, layered with a thick coating of distrust. Akira opens his mouth, but Haru beats him to it.

“I’m glad you’re okay, Akechi-kun.”

A few gasps were let out, and Sumire’s mouth hangs open. Akechi’s shoulders tense ever so slightly.

“...Thank you.”

Haru shakes her head, smiling. Whether or not it’s forced or legitimate is anyone’s best guess. Next to Akira and Akechi, she has the toughest mask to crack. “I should be the one thanking you. You assisted us greatly in supporting Akira-kun. Ah, and Yoshizawa, too!”

Haru, Akira had learned very early on, can wield an axe better than a lifetime-trained lumberjack can. Yet her ultimate weapon is being able to kill people with kindness despite—no, because of what happened to her. The strength to pursue compassion in the face of vile circumstances is what compelled Akechi to silence now.

Sumire spoke for the both of them. “It’s no problem!”

“Well, I don’t know about you guys,” Ann says. “But I’m beat.”

“As am I, but I can’t find it in me to return to dorms after all this,” says Yusuke.

“Me neither,” Makoto pipes in.

“I think we all want to keep hanging out, right?” Futaba asks. “So I’ve got two words, bolded, italicized, underlined, and highlighted: Leblanc party!”

Ryuji squints. “That’s three words, dummy.”

“Ooo, that’s a great idea, Futaba!” Ann exclaims, clapping her hands together, “I can get the cupcakes and some sweets!”

“I can get chips and snacks!” Haru beams.

“Drinks are on me, y’all!” Futaba says.

“Fear not,” Yusuke says, self-satisfied. “I will let Boss know.”

“I want sushi!” Morgana yowls.

“Not too sure I gave the okay to this, given that I live there,” Akira says, only to be booed from all sides.

“No one likes a tsundere, man!” Ryuji yells.

“Akira isn’t violent,” says Makoto, frowning.

“That’s ‘yandere,’ Mako-chan.”

“I’m expecting everyone in Akira’s room in two hours!” Futaba announces, and hesitates, before looking at Akechi. “Everyone! And I mean it! At least...just for today.”

Akira blinks before Haru cuts in. “Yes, I completely agree. A celebration for being together again, and to everyone who helped us get here.”

They all nod in agreement. It’s incredible; it’s the people around him that elected him to be the leader of their little group, but he will only ever be half as strong as they are. For them to be able to set aside their feelings, their hate, for one day just because they’re grateful that Akira was saved from his own delusions—Akira really doesn’t deserve them. (But there’s no way he’s saying it out loud. They’ll all eat him alive if they even suspect that he’s thinking that.)

“I’ll politely have to decline—” Akechi attempts, before Ryuji scoffs.

“Dude, come on. One party ain’t gonna kill you and there’s no way you’re beating Haru in a manners competition.”

“Or Futaba in a battle of obstinacy,” Yusuke finishes.

When Akechi looks like he’s about to argue once again, Sumire clears her throat and levels him with a loaded look. Looking away, Akechi accidentally meets Akira’s eyes with a carbon copy of the same expression.

You’re not getting out of this one, detective.

Eventually, he relents: “One evening.”

—

After a quick group discussion about who’s getting what, Akira offers to get sushi and all but drags Akechi with him, saying that if the restaurant recognizes the Detective Prince they might get a discount; though judging that Akira had tipped a generous thirty percent and the way he had pulled Ryuji aside to make sure he wasn’t hiding any wounds or pain (“the only pain I have is you. You’re a pain in my ass, ‘Kira”), Akechi assumes that Akira had an ulterior motive.

They stand outside the restaurant somewhere in Ginza, the empty alley more bearable than the crowded inside. For once, the weather is approachable—gray clouds in the early evening sky, though the chill is as present as it always is. Few are out and about on leisurely walks and mundane errands, finding no need to celebrate on an arbitrary Wednesday, but every once in a while there are those with laughter and frivolity trailing them; a reminder that their work is far from over.

Someone in the distance buys a drink from a vending machine when Akechi’s eye twitches.

“Do you mind?”

Immediately, Akira averts his eyes from Akechi. Embarrassment isn’t present in his expression, but the disgustingly thick layer of concern couldn’t be clearer. “Just checking.”

“For what? If I was bleeding out over a scratch?”

“Because I know you could've avoided that scratch,” Akira says, voice hard. “Yeah, my aim was shot, but that shouldn’t have hit you. You’re good in short, all-out fights like that. It’s your element. Yet I still hit you.”

“We all have our off days.”

“I guess,” he says, and the corner of his mouth tilts up, just a bit. “You looked pretty tired by the end of it.”

Akechi throws a glare at him. “I suppose I’m not used to someone who acts like he’s in the middle of a dance contest while he’s in battle.”

“Okay, okay,” Akira chuckles and the last dregs of uneasiness seems to wash away, the hard line of the corner of his eyes fading. His fingers gravitate to his pockets. “You’re too feisty right now to be injured.”

He feels himself about to retort against ‘feisty’ (Akechi’s never been called feisty in his life and he isn’t about to start today) when Akira looks up, staring at the sky. “Mind if I say something?”

Akechi gestures a gloved hand and Akira turns to give him an unreadable look. “How’d you convince them?”

An odd question. “After seeing you be triggered by mentioning or seeing memories from the real reality, it wasn’t too difficult to create a plan surrounding that.”

Akira was shaking his head before he even finished. “No,” he says. “I mean how did you know what to say to them?”

Squinting, Akechi thinks on his next words, wondering if it’s some sort of trap, not unlike a traveller poking at the ground in case of quick sand. He comes empty-handed. “Have you forgotten that I, however unwilling, worked with your thieves for a good chunk of time?”

“Huh,” Akira muses. “That’s nice.”

He feels his teeth clench. “What?”

“I always wondered how much of it was, you know, an act. Like which one was the fake detective spiel and which was the real Goro,” his mouth twists into a sour expression, but Akira doesn’t notice. “But you got to know them. At least, enough to know what to say.”

“Don’t speak like I had any intention of using that in any condonable way. Information and trust was what I needed to get the upper hand, fruitless as it was,” he replies. “Or had you conveniently forgotten my past actions?”

Akira smiles, though it could just as easily be a tight grimace. “Unless Maruki decides on a do-over, I’d have to say no on that one.”

“That’s what I thought.”

“But wow,” he scuffs at the pavement—whether it’s flipping a pen through his fingers or tugging on his forelocks, he never seems to stop moving. Akechi hates it. “I know you think we’re naive and stuff, but Haru and Futaba sure are something else by inviting you, even if this,” Akira gestures between them, “Is temporary.”

“Temporary, hmm?” Akechi ruminates. “I was fairly baffled as well. I don’t believe I’d have it in me to be able to recreate what she did if it were Shido.” Looking back to the restaurant, he wonders if their order will ever be ready. “Truth be told, Sakamoto not taking the green light to summon Taisai the moment he saw me is almost as surprising, given his temper.”

“He’s working on it,” Akira shrugs. He side eyes Akechi. “Are you?”

“Am I what?”

“Trying.”

Him and his stupid games. “Trying to what?”

“You know,” Akira waves a hand. “To be a good person. Or a half-decent one.”

Silence stretches on. The clattering of plates and cutlery fill up the empty space.

And then: “Do you think I did this for you?”

“No, jeez!” he rolls his eyes. “I get that you hate me, despise me, loathe me, whatever. You don’t like me. I just thought that—”

“That somehow empathy bloomed within me?” Akechi scoffs. “Hilarious. What would be the point of that? Are you honestly telling me that if I got down on my knees, tears positively streaming down my face and apologized with my whole being, you’d forgive me?”

“Maybe?” Akira answers, and Akechi freezes, not expecting a genuine response. “Only if everyone else does.”

He tries not to make his relief obvious—he wouldn’t know what to say if Akira had said something as ridiculous as actually forgiving him, especially when in Akechi’s mind, he’s already accepted what is and isn’t possible. “Given the possibility of that, a simple ‘no’ would be more efficient.”

He raises a shoulder half-heartedly. “Who knows? With enough time, anything could happen.”

Akechi stays silent.

“Oh,” Akira blinks. “Speaking of time—”

“This sushi place is scamming us?”

“—you and Sumire are pretty friendly with each other.”

“Hardly,” he crosses his arms. “She’s always insisting on teamwork, and communication,” he spits it out like a curse. “Too much time was wasted on useless endeavors. I had to watch her eat half the table at one point. However, in fairness, she provided valuable insight about the other...what?”

Akira’s looking at him with a strange expression—the lovechild of awe and disbelief. “Nothing, it’s just…” he trails off for a second, before his eyes crinkle in mirth. “I’m happy for you, Akechi.”

Before he can reply, make a comeback, quell the sudden cold in his fingertips, Akira lights up.

“Looks like the food’s finally ready. Let’s head to Leblanc—Mona’s probably gnawing on the stools by now.”

He moves past him, and Akechi swallows back the bile in his throat.

—

“You think Boss’d mind if I grab a couple of glasses?” Ryuji’s muffled voice leaks through the thin walls of the cafe. To a nosey passerby, they’d be able to hear conversations with a concerning amount of clarity. It’s a miracle no one’s called the police on them before.

“Nah, he’s too big of a softie to mind. Since I’m the heiress to his grand, lackluster estate, I want you all to feast and be merry without worry! Am I right, Haru?”

“Absolutely, Futaba-chan!”

“Is it me, or is Mona acting kinda...rabid?”

“I’m sorry to act so garish, Lady Ann, but I’m starving and Akira’s probably already stuffing his face with—”

The bell chimes and Akira’s eyes lock with a wild, salivating cat. “—Sushi!”

Like an untamed beast, a ball of fur sprints at Akira. “Yeah, it’s all here, just—ow, Morgana, let me—okay you know what?” Akira tosses the bag to Ryuji, who catches it by the handle with ease.

“Ann, grab lover boy over there before he claws into the furniture.” Ryuji takes out the paper boxes as Ann picks up Morgana, and his face looks stuck in a euphoric state; awaiting sushi and cradled by Ann, Morgana looks like he could die happy.

Akira takes a moment to examine the small, overflowing cafe—Yusuke and Makoto are behind the bar setting up drinks (orange soda and water, no alcohol lest they want to taste nukes by the hands of Johanna), with Yusuke making sure that each glass has the same amount of liquid and ice cubes (more than once has the ice slipped out of his hand and onto the floor). Sumire smiles at him, and waves when Akechi saunters to her, rolling his eyes. Futaba is still trying to explain to Haru how they’re basically the same person given their ‘societal circumstances’ and he can see that Haru is genuinely agreeing with her. Ann is chiding Morgana when he starts purring so intensely he’s nearly vibrating out of her grasp.

“Whatcha smilin’ about over there?”

Prying his eyes away from the sight, Ryuji paused his rummaging to look up at him.

“I wasn’t smiling.”

“You weren’t,” he agrees. “But your eyes kinda—” he gestures vaguely at his face. “So it’s pretty much the same thing.”

Of course. Let Ryuji figure him out in four seconds or less. They can make a gameshow out of it. “Maybe it’s because I’m excited for sushi.”

“Well, tough luck buddy,” Ryuji crumples up the now-empty plastic bag. “Cause you forgot the soy sauce.”

“You what?” Morgana crane his head backwards to glower at him. “Akira, please—”

“Doesn’t Boss have soy sauce in here?” Ann asks.

“This is a coffee shop, so I wouldn’t think so,” Makoto says.

Akechi mutters under his breath, “That sushi place is truly vile.”

Sumire whispers back, “Is it because they didn’t have a dessert menu, or…?”

“Shut it.”

“No biggie,” Akira says, feeling his pockets to make sure his wallet is still there. “There’s a 777 down the street, it’ll be quick.”

“I’ll come with,” Ryuji hops the bar, inciting a ‘Ryuji!’ from Makoto. “Forgetting can be such a pain, yeah?”

He nods, and the two of them set off, Mona yowling behind them.

—

Yongen-Jaya never gets old.

The back alley is jam-packed with small businesses, motorcycles, vending machines, stray cats and much more—it’s the equivalent of shoving all the clutter to the back of an already cramped closet. But it’s not the organized chaos that tugs at Akira’s heartstrings; it’s the memories that come with the mess, with the atmosphere of Yongen that makes him ache. It’s how Morgana whispered what he should get in the grocery store, or watching a movie 20 minutes late with Ann, or Yusuke tripping over a bike.

Right now, walking side by side with Ryuji, he thinks about how he had insisted on walking Akira home after he awakened Arsene, making sure he got home safe even though his apartment was on the other side of the city.

Even then, Ryuji was always looking out for him.

They’re silent as they walk, footsteps falling in time with one another. There’s no rush between them, despite Morgana’s insistence. It could just as easily have been a nightly stroll between two people who find comfort in the crisp, nighttime air.

But Akira knows better than that. Ryuji isn’t as slick as he thinks he is, and his jumping at the chance on soy sauce is as subtle as a neon sign. So he waits—as long as he needs to for Ryuji to speak, which never takes long. (He’s so honest and forthcoming, it’s insane. As someone who insists on having two meters of caution and deliberation up at all times, it’s a trait Akira’s always been a little jealous of.)

It took some time, but Ryuji finally starts. “Yoshizawa explained what happened while you were out getting food.”

“Oh yeah. Sorry, I forgot to catch everyone up to speed.”

Shaking his head, “S’fine, we get it. She let us in on the whole Maruki thing, how it worked and stuff. The whole...what did she call it? Reality? Yeah, how our reality kinda molded around our desires. It fits the bill with everyone—Yusuke with Madarame, Futaba with her mom. Me with the track team.”

He must’ve seen something in Akira's eyes, because he puffs out his chest. “No, this ain’t me second-guessing my decision.”

“I didn’t say it was.”

“Damn right,” he huffs. “Well, after Yoshizawa explained all that, Makoto—y’know, she’s got a big brain and all—asked her something that’s still on my mind. Then Yoshizawa kinda got a little nervous, didn’t give a decent answer.”

“She knows as much as I do, but I can try my best to answer.”

“Good,” Ryuji shoves his hands in his pockets. “Cause Makoto was wondering what your wish was.”

Akira’s footsteps stall for a split second. Ryuji keeps walking.

“I got these memories, ‘Kira,” he says, slowing down, and Akira directs his eyes to the ground. “Don’t really understand it—like flashes of pictures, of people, of places, but it’s real annoying. Keeps slipping away like those crappy prizes in claw machines. Wanna know something though?” he stays quiet. “I asked around, and no one else was getting them.”

“That’s odd,” Akira manages, despite the frantic rhythm of his heart.

“See, the memories are crap, they’re no good. Can’t remember them. But the feeling that’s there—” he lets out a long, shaky breath. “I dunno if I can ever shake them, man.”

Silence.

Ryuji stops and turns. “Akira.”

Slowly, Akira looks up. Ryuji’s frowning, brows wrinkled together like unfolded laundry (he wants nothing more than to reach up and smooth it away), and his fingers are flexing as if he wants to squeeze something to get rid of his confusion. That’s the thing about Ryuji; he always feels so much more than anyone Akira’s met, and it translates to physicality. More than once during a Thieves meeting did Ryuji have to take a break and go for a run to process.

“You’ve got to tell me because—” he scrubs at his hair, sighing. Clenches his jaw. “Because if those—those memories, that feeling isn’t what I think it is, I’m gonna go fucking nuts.”

“Why?”

“What?”

“Why do you need to know?” Akira asks. “What if knowing would make everything worse?”

“That’s impossible.”

He frowns. “Why?”

“Because this feeling is the best thing I’ve felt in a really long time.”

Speechless, Akira doesn’t know how to respond. He stares at Ryuji, his palms facing up like he doesn’t have anything left to give, his eyes open and sincere. There isn’t a hint of malice in them and it makes Akira feel like he can tell him anything and receive nothing but support in return. Like he had a hundred times before.

And then, in a single moment of clarity, Akira realizes that Ryuji’s seen him, has been with him since the very beginning of everything, and still calls him his best friend without a drop of hesitation.

If Akira can’t tell him this now, can’t respect what Ryuji’s been giving him, then what would be the point of any of this? He won’t (can’t) lie to Ryuji, and he’s not about to change that now.

A small gust of wind comes and Akira’s hair gets blown back, just a bit.

“My wish was for us to be together. For you to love me in the way that I love you.”

At that moment, a meteor could have struck. An airplane could have crashed. The ground could have swallowed him in his entirety. The world could have destroyed him, but nothing could’ve possibly taken the feeling of sheer relief that thrums through his veins. Like a concrete block that was pressed against his shoulder blades, relentlessly weighing him down everyday, suddenly gone.

Ryuji’s eyes widen, his mouth falling open (he wills himself not to look at his mouth). It doesn’t matter what disaster could possibly arrive; Ryuji’s next words would crumble Akira more than anything else could.

The Metaverse had never once terrified him like this.

“Seriously?” he asks, voice hoarse. “You can’t mess around right now, Kurusu.”

“I’m dead serious, Sakamoto.”

Ryuji blinks. And again. And then takes a step forward, and all but sprints towards him.

“Wha—”

“You are—” he bends, arms extended. “So annoying!”

“Ryuji!” Akira yells as his feet are suddenly swept off the ground.

“I wanted to say it first!” Ryuji screams back, and then he starts to spin and Akira has to hold on to him for dear life. (Did he hear that right? Probably not. He must’ve said something else.) “But nooo, Joker over here has to steal the kill!”

“Wait, wait—” it’s hard to think when the world is blurring together mercilessly, but Akira knows that Ryuji will never drop him.

“I guess ain’t no time like the present.” The spinning slows, and Akira gradually feels the concrete beneath him once more. Hands find their way to his shoulders and despite his coat, Akira can feel their warmth.

“Kurusu Akira,” his eyes are bright and his grin could’ve led ships back to the coastline. “You are, without a doubt, the best that’s happened in my existence—you’re my best friend, super cool, and obnoxiously good-looking. I am so fucking in love with you.”

Oh.

Ringing. Akira’s ears are ringing as he processes what came out of the other boy’s mouth. It was impossible—so impossible that Akira had thought it needed another impossibility to make it possible. It was a fantasy so buried that he never let himself think it, and only let himself indulge in the idea in moments of weakness. It was a hidden shame, a chain that binds him, a broken record that mocked him for ever believing it could happen.

Yet here they were; Ryuji’s still grinning and Akira gradually, ever so slowly, starts to smile. That smile morphs into a grin, and eventually—

“You love me,” Akira laughs, unable to hold back his joy. “You love me, Sakamoto Ryuji.”

Ryuji joins in, doubling over, shoulders shaking, his hands still glued on him. “This is crazy!”

“So crazy!”

They both laugh even harder. They must’ve looked like a couple of idiots, standing around some random alley and practically crying of laughter for no reason. Neither of them give a damn.

After a bit, they sober up, mirth still clinging in their eyes and cheeks sore.

“So…’ Akira says, unable to stop smiling. “That feeling you were mentioning before…”

“Yeah, dude?” Ryuji has these tiny little dimples at the very top of his cheekbones if he’s grinning hard enough. It drives Akira crazy.

“Was it this? Was it love?”

He tilts his head. “Hell no. What I’m feeling right now, y’know...love,” Ryuji fumbles over the word, despite his brazen confidence from early. “I’ve been feeling that since Kamoshida’s castle.”

Akira’s mouth twitches. “Same here.” Shoving his hands in his pocket, he gives Ryuji an inquisitive look. “So if it wasn’t love, then what was it?”

Ryuji hums. “It took me awhile to realize what was going on with me, and it took even longer than that to let myself feel it. And, y’know, I was scared shitless that you wouldn’t feel the same way, so when we were—” he gestures between them. “Even if it was Maruki that made it happen, I guess I felt… accepted,” his expression turns sheepish. “And let me tell you, that feeling? It sticks with you.”

“I get that,” Akira says, voice hushed like confessing a sin.

They stare at each other, at a loss for words but finding no need to find them right away.

“Oh,” Akira blinks. “I haven’t even properly said it yet.”

Ryuji gives him a questioning look, and he responds by lifting one hand and places his fingertips to Ryuji’s cheek (where his dimples would be), touch featherlight. “Sakamoto Ryuji, I love you in every reality.”

To his delight, blood rushes to Ryuji’s face. “Quit it, ‘Kira,” he mutters. “You’re not fooling anyone with that cool bullshit, you’re embarrassing me.”

“Oh yeah?” letting his hand drop, Akira takes a step back. “Is that a challenge? Because I’ve been wanting to do this since the festival.”

He squints. “Don’t you dare.”

Akira takes a deep breath and cups his hands over his mouth.

“Akira, I swear—”

“I love Ryuji!”

“Oh my God—” Ryuji slaps a hand over his mouth, face beet-red. “Someone’s gonna call the cops on us now, thanks to your dumbass!”

Voice muffled, “So what?”

“So your ass goes to jail, for real this time.”

Akira says something incomprehensible.

“What?” he drops his hand.

“I said that you’ll probably just bust me out, won’t you?”

Ryuji snorts. “Duh. Give me a week, and you’ll be out on the streets making a mess again.”

“You know it.” If he doesn’t stop being so ridiculously earnest, Akira would have no choice but to squeeze him until he pops. He readjusts his glasses instead. “We should probably grab that soy sauce before Mona—”

He stops when Ryuji showcases a handful of soy sauce packets from his pocket, expression smug.

“First rule of thievery: a slick hand is a slick man.”

“That is definitely not the first rule of anything.”

“Thievery is a crime, Akira.”

The two of them banter as they head back, side by side. Despite everything, there’s still a bit of a shyness between them, but that’s okay—they’ll take things at their own pace, the way they want to do it.

Their shoulders bump, and if Maruki had asked him for a second wish, Akira would decline without hesitation.

—

“Give it up, Futaba. You’re playing to lose.”

“Ha! I haven’t lost a game since I misclicked in Solitaire when I was eight.”

“Ladies, neither of you know the art of the hustle in the way I’ve perfected it.”

“You going around random parks and picking up cans for three hundred yen isn’t a hustle, Yusuke.”

“And who taught him that word?”

“Ryuji.”

“Definitely Ryuji.

“You bet I did.”

“Um, no one’s played anything for two minutes now.”

“Trash talk is gameplay, Haru.”

“This is less trash talk and more senior citizen bingo chitchat.”

“Shut up Akira, winners can’t join the banter.”

“‘Heavy is the head that wears the crown.’”

“Wow. That’s deep, man.”

“Don’t fall for it, it’s from Spider-Man.”

“It’s Shakespeare, Ann.”

“See, this is why Makoto’s college bound and you’re not.”

“I don’t want to go to college. It’s a scam.”

“You wanna know what else is a scam?” Futaba slams her cards down hard enough to rattle their drinks. “A revolution!”

Groans fill the air, and Akechi looks over Ann’s shoulder from the next booth. “Mind if I mention that you’re done for?”

“I’m blonde, not stupid,” Ann whispers back fiercely. “And besides, it’s not like you could’ve predicted a revolution.”

He leans over and points to one of her cards, careful not to touch her. “Judging by the way Sakura and Kitagawa are holding their cards, they’re chock-full on pairs. If you use this,” he flicks one of her cards. “They’ll have no choice but to—”

“Time! Red flag! 911!” Futaba stands, pointing an accusatory finger at the pair. “No outside help allowed, it’s cheating! Akira, make them stop.”

“Oh, so now you want me to talk?”

“Yes, I command you.”

Akira turns to give Akechi a stern stare. “Stop cheating, it’s making Futaba upset.”

“Then why hasn’t she said anything about Sakamoto giving you strategies?”

“Pfft,” Futaba snorts. “That’s more of a handicap than anything.”

“Hey!” Ryuji tips his chair towards Futaba, balance precarious. “‘Kira, she’s bullying me!”

“You think I can stop her?”

“Good point,” he scans the room. “Yoshizawa, stop her abuse!”

“Huh?” Sumire tears her eyes away from Yusuke, who started rearranging his cards by pattern instead of… anything that can help him win. “Why me?”

“You guys are the same age, so,” he waves his hand in a need I say more? gesture.

“Can you just get on with the game?” Makoto sighs. “I’ve been wanting to play, but all you do is argue.”

“Don’t worry Makoto,” Futaba’s glasses glint like an anime villain. “This won’t take long.”

Three minutes later, Ann shoves her head into her hands, brutally defeated. “Akechi, you suck. Yusuke beat me.”

“You did the exact opposite of what I told you to do, how is that possibly my fault?”

“I thought it was reverse psychology!

Sumire can see Akechi physically restrain himself from commenting any further.

Their impromptu party has been nothing short of a success—surrounding them and littering the bar are empty sushi boxes with Morgana snoring one of them. After everyone ate the (ridiculous amount) of food, Haru suggested a casual game of Tycoon, but there had been a glint in her eyes that told Sumire it would be anything but. It was an array of cutthroat games topped with poor trash talk and a complete lack of camaraderie with one another; the opposite of what had happened in Maruki’s Palace.

When Ryuji had sprinted past her, swift as a lightning strike, Sumire was ready to join him until a hand gripped her forearm. Ann shook her head. The rest of the Phantom Thieves were geared up and ready to go, yet none of them made a move towards Akira. It was as if there’s a silent agreement from all of them. She explained to Sumire why, all while keeping an eye on the two boys fighting with each other.

“Akira… he takes his role in the group seriously,” Ann said. “Sometimes a little too seriously, but that’s because he has to. Nothing bugs him more than someone on the team getting hurt, so he ends up trying to do everything himself. And Ryuji,” she nodded at him. “He hates it. Tells him off every time. Akira doesn’t usually lose his focus like this, but whenever he does, it’s just better to let them sort it out. It may not seem like it, but Ryuji’s been doing this as long as Akira has. They’ll make it work.”

Her voice had been so certain, so confident and sure of that fact that Sumire could only nod and wait for them to finish.

Now though, everyone seems to be enjoying themselves. They had accepted Sumire with open arms, had made her feel comfortable and welcomed in what’s clearly a tight-knit group.

“Okay, who’s next?” Akira calls, gathering the cards with deft hands and begins to shuffle the deck. “Makoto called dibs already.”

“I’d like to give it a try,” Haru says. “Many older fellows from the company seem to judge power through the hierarchy of cards, so I’d love to get more practice in.”

“Sounds problematic,” Ryuji comments.

“It is, but I’ll never back down from the chance to see defeat flood into their eyes.”

A beat.

“...Okay, so Makoto and Haru are in, anyone else? Winner gets to poke Morgana while he’s in a coma.”

“Speaking of—elephant in the room,” Ann leans forward and drops her voice. “Was it just me, or was Mona—”

“Super, really, mega, ultra weird as a human?” Ryuji finishes eagerly.

Sumire gasps, “Oh my God, you too?”

“Duh!”

“I’ll admit it: it truly made my stomach hurt to witness such a sight,” Yusuke shudders.

Haru frowns. “Don’t be rude to Mona-chan.”

“I ain’t saying he’s ugly! I’m just saying it’s effin’ weird to see our not-cat actually not a cat.”

“He looks like he’d hold a skateboard but not know how to skate,” Futaba says.

“He looks like he’d be carded for a PG-13 film,” says Ann.

“He looks like he’s a throw-in for an up-and-coming J-pop band.”

Everyone turns to Akechi, who raises an eyebrow. “What?”

All at once, everyone bursts out laughing, the sound filling up the every crevice of the room.

“You’re all mean people,” Akira crosses his arms but is unable to keep the humour out of his eyes.

“Don’t act all high-and-mighty, leader,” Ann snorts. “There’s no way you didn’t think that human Morgana wasn’t insane.”

“I absolutely did not see anything insane.”

“Probs cause you can’t see, period.” Ryuji moves forward and pushes Akira’s bangs up. “Christ, how can you see with this mop in front of you?”

With his hair no longer obscuring his view, nothing is hiding Akira’s smug lilt of his chin, his eyes seeming to glow blue when he says, “Third Eye.”

Ryuji rolls his eyes. “Impossible in the real world, dude.” Without seeming to realize it, his hand was combing back Akira’s thick locks. “You’re just too nice to that damn cat.”

The act seemed so gentle, so tender, so natural and unhesitating that it’s almost as if she shouldn’t be seeing it. Maybe it’s because Akira seemed to almost lean into his touch, or the way Ryuji reached out like he was drawn to him. Or maybe it’s because no one even comments on it, like this was so common that it wasn’t even worth mentioning. Whatever it was, it’s enough to make her look away.

Only to see Akechi bring up his phone.

“I have to take this,” he stands, grabbing his coat.

Sumire frowns. “Who’s calling?”

“Business,” AKechi pushes past the door, bell ringing as it swings back.

Yeah, right.

“That reminds me,” she says, pulling up her own phone (dead, but no one needs to know that). “I have to call my father.”

“You can head up to Akira’s room,” Futaba suggests.

“No, it’s alright,” she notes that she didn’t suggest that to Akechi, but Sumire can’t exactly blame her. “I need to speak to Goro anyway.” She stands and bows to everyone deeply. “Thank you very much for inviting me.”

Grabbing her coat, Sumire follows Akechi out, leaving the warm glow of Leblanc behind her.

—

Somehow, she isn’t surprised to find him at the rundown laundromat once more, back pressed against the unmoving dryer.

They regard each other for a long moment.

“It’s a little chilly, compared to the last time we were here,” Sumire says.

“No one’s using the bathhouse right now.”

“That’s a shame,” she walks over to the washer on the far right, and with a little hop, makes herself comfortable on the off-white steel. “I quite miss the scent that was here. Kind of like a gust of wind wearing perfume. Now it smells like… well, nothing really.”

“I never liked the scent. It made me prone to headaches.” Akechi crosses his arms. “What are you doing here?”

“Your phone didn’t ring,” she says simply. “And you never put your phone on silent. Really, it was like a light in the sky that says ‘Goro is in trouble, send help!’.” She leans forward, propping her chin in her palm. “I’m just responding.”

Akechi stays silent as a brick wall.

“Why did you leave? I don’t know about you, but I thought it was going pretty well, all things considered. You hate them, I know, but you seemed to be… well, not repulsed by them at least. And they seemed to get along with you alright.”

“That’s why I left,” he says, expression impassive. “They just had their perfect reality ripped away, everything they could want, and they’re all in there pretending that they’re fine. Lying to each other. It makes my skin crawl. They fight for the truth, yet cower behind a mask, an act—”

Sumire’s gaze turns icy. “Don’t try and make them out to be like bad people. It’s not an act. You know it’s not.”

They study each other, and then Akechi’s shoulder drops slightly. “I know. It would be considerably easier if it was. That group…” his eyes slide sideways. “Is perplexing, to say the least. I don’t understand how they function, I don’t understand how their dynamic doesn’t turn vicious over time, and I especially don’t group how they can forgive Kurusu despite his—his meddling of their lives.”

It’s the most candid she’s seen Akechi without him bordering on a breakdown. Sumire chooses her next question carefully, one that’s been bugging her.

“Why did you ask Akira for help back then?”

“Here, you mean?” At her nod, “I told you—when he’s feeling cooperative, he can prove to be of value.”

“Why did you come back to Leblanc with them today?”

“Allies are advantageous,” he answers a hairsbreadth too quickly.

“Why are you still here, Goro?”

Akechi hesitates. That’s a first. “I don’t know.”

“You seem to always have an excuse, don’t you?”

“What are you getting at?”

A silence falls over the two of them, heavy like a weighted blanket. The vending machine whirrs loudly behind her.

“How long have you been in love with Kurusu-senpai?”

Akechi stares at her, long and hard, as if he was considering his handful of moves in a game of chess. And then he walks towards the other washer, leaving the middle one empty between them and jumps on.

“Not as long as you, I don’t think.”

Immediately, blood rushes to her cheeks relentlessly. (Of course he figured it out.) For all her insistence of teamwork, she forgets that this isn’t a one-way mirror. “That’s probably true,” she admits.

Rotating on the smooth steel, Sumire faces him. “It happened pretty much the day I met him. Damsel in distress, knight in shining armor—the works. He was nice, I was flustered. Ripped straight out of a textbook shoujo manga,” she chuckles. “Considerably less cherry blossoms and way more weapons, though.”

“I’ve never found the appeal of those,” Akechi muses. “Then again, I don’t think I’ve ever picked one up for myself.”

“They’re really sweet if that’s what you’re into. I have a collection at home, I can—” she stops. Clearing her throat, she instead asks, “And you?”

“Are you asking me to gossip with you?”

“Less gossip, and more a conversation.”

He hums. “Perhaps I should’ve corrected you before,” he shifts his torso to her direction. “Kurusu Akira is something of an anomaly. He’s on probation, an outcast, hated by his peers and authority in his life. Barely a penny to his name, he was a nobody living in an attic at the top of some cafe. And yet, he ended up leading the phenomenon, the internationally acknowledged and polarized group of the Phantom Thieves of Hearts.”

His tone is flat, inscrutable when he says: “And I have never met anyone I hated more.”

The smile that was nestled in Sumire’s face drained as she watched Akechi’s expression: eyes glazed over and posture completely relaxed—like he was informing her of the weather next week. “By rule of the formula, he shouldn’t have had the success that he did. He doesn’t deserve the victory the Thieves did, the friends he made. Because if someone like him can possibly be more than the scum he is…” he trails off, shaking his head. “I don’t know if what I’m feeling towards him is love. It’s possible. But just as possible as that is a simple, unencumbered infatuation towards him, an unhindered obsession.”

Akechi crosses his legs, and the action makes him look younger. “Take that information as you will.”

“That’s how I figured it out. The way you spoke about him was very…” she struggles to find a suitable way to describe how Akechi speaks about Akira—it was loaded with backhanded compliments (heavy on the backhand). Every time he spoke about him, for or against, it was like a battle of semantics; he was almost arguing with himself half the time. “Telling,” she finishes lamely.

Sumire shifts from where she’s sitting, almost wishing that someone would go into the bathhouse if not to create enough steam to warm her up. Though she considers herself lucky to finally be having this conversation, the venue is much to be desired.

“Diction aside, you have strong feelings for senpai. Be it love or hate or some sort of amalgamation of the two. So why didn’t you wish for him? It would’ve been easy. You wouldn’t even notice the change.”

He considers this for a moment, fingernails tapping away at the hollow of the washer. “Do you know much of existential topics?”

Blinking, “Like those tarot card tables in Shinjuku?”

“Not quite. Moreso on topics such as karmic retribution, fate, ‘destiny,’” he air quotes, mouth twisting in mockery. “Basically, the idea that certain things are out of your control.”

“Sure, I know of them. I can’t say I’m anything more than a casual believer, if I can even say that.”

“When I was young, I was as well. But I learned early on that the concept of the universe providing aid is nothing more than a fever dream,” he fiddles with his glove absentmindedly. “So everything I have, I fought tooth and nail for: my reputation, my studies, who I am. I made it happen, not anyone else,” Akechi shrugs. “So why on earth would I start now relying on someone else to get what I want when I know that it won’t work? Clearly, the universe—if such a thing exists—doesn’t give a shit. ”

“Wow,” is all she could say.

“Wow indeed.” He runs his hand over top the panel and comes up with dust. “I have a question for you, now.”

“Go for it.” Admittedly, she’s curious about his question. Akechi simply exudes the aura that he just knows everything there is to know. She wonders if he calculated that into himself, along with everything else.

“Since what Maruki did was essentially getting your call answered by the universe, how did you get over your wish so easily?”

“I didn't.” Raising an eyebrow, “Did you think I did?”

Her question is answered by a lack of retort. She tries not to feel satisfaction from it.

“I’m not over it,” she admits. “Of course I’m not. I still struggle with it, when I’m alone. The guilt gets crazy at night, so it helps to keep busy. Busy is… busy is good, usually,” Sumire looks down and swears she sees blood on her hands—flashing in and out like bad reception. “It helps to treat it like a regimen. A muscle to train.” Looking up, the corner of her mouth quirks up at him. “Kasumi was always the one to remind me to stretch when I overdid it.”

“I never figured out how altruism like that works,” says Akechi. “How do you live, serving others even at the expense of yourself? What’s the point in all of this if it isn’t for personal gain?”

The way he says it so matter-of-fact stops Sumire from dismissing him right away. There isn’t an ounce of malice in his words or any intent on meanness—only pragmatism.

“I get it,” Sumire says. “But in a way, selflessness is easier. It’s straightforward, helping others. For many cases, people don’t even know themselves well enough to be selfish.”

“Can’t say that I can relate. Not knowing the end goal is practically a death sentence.”

Sumire hums. “Figures. It’s almost scary how sure you are of what you want,” her eyes meet his, red on brown. “Are you so sure that you’d die for it?”

Akechi’s eyes narrow ever so slightly. “What are you really asking?”

“If we defeat Maruki and return everything back to before,” she swallows. “What happens to you?”

Surprise morphs its way into Akechi’s face like watching moss grow on timelapse. And then he suddenly snorts, startling Sumire more than anything they’ve faced in the past week.

Akechi clears his throat, but there’s still traces of humor. “Nothing gets past you, does it?”

Despite how morbid the conversation has shifted, Sumire still feels her lips stretch wide. “Not like you gave me much choice.”

“Point taken,” he says. “How’d you figure that I’d die as soon as all of this is over?”

“Maruki mentioned something back then, about people losing their wishes if this was all reversed. And that, partnered with what Kurusu-senpai said back then,” she shrugs. “It’s hard not to assume.”

“You’d make a fun verbal sparring partner, Sumire.”

“Oh, no way,” she waves her hand, hastily trying to hide delight. It’s not everyday you can pull a compliment out of Akechi Goro. “I’m all about the practice—put me on the spot without prep and I’ll fold like a bad poker player.”

“Like Takamaki?”

“Worse.”

He wrinkles his nose. “Impossible.” Akechi rests his elbows on his bent knee, propping his chin up on his hand. “Are you going to ramble on with some mindless monologue to try and talk me out of it?”

“I don’t know. Probably not,” she admits. “You’re too stubborn to fall for something like an intervention.”

Sumire understands, though, the extremities of the situation aside. If she gained the ability of hindsight and saw herself still pretending to be Kasumi, she’d probably be revolted enough to choose death, too. “There’s a good chance that Kurusu-senpai would try to stop you though.”

“He can try,” Akechi sniffs. “It’ll be a waste of time on his part.”

She makes a noise of agreement, and they lapse into a comfortable silence once again (they’re starting to make a habit of it, but she doesn’t mind), with only the buzzing of fluorescence serving as white noise.

Whether he’s doing this for himself or not, his sacrifice would ensure that reality would return to normal for everyone, granted that they can stop Maruki. His intentions are self-serving, completely indifferent to how this would affect everyone else, yet his forfeited life would mean that everyone would get their reality back. Even if it’s a means to an end, an egocentric reason, Akechi is willing to act as a martyr to achieve normalcy.

She lets her eyes drift towards him, lost in thought yet posture still perfect; no doubt another addition to his handcrafted state of being, and wonders if his accidental philanthropy is enough to atone for what he’s done.

Sumire almost cracks a smile—she’s stressing more about this than he is, but she can’t help it; she sees herself in him. Not completely, but in chunks. Specifically how they see Akira—his pride would never let him admit it to himself, but Sumire has no such reservations. There’s a substantial way they both revere him, place him on a shiny pedestal complete with those red velvet stanchions wrapped around.

Everyone must see him like this, she thought. Like fog on a mountain, something impossible to grasp. But then she saw how Akira was with his group for all but one evening and realized just how wrong she is.

Stretching her legs over the center washer, her knee bumps against his ankle. He doesn’t jerk away.

“Have you really not tried reading manga?” she asks.

“No. But once, I picked it up and pretended to read it for a publicity stunt,” says Akechi. “Why do you ask?”

“Because everyone reads manga.”

“Clearly not.” A pause. “I’ve caught a few episodes of Featherman, however.”

Sumire claps her hands together. “Really? That’s amazing! My sister and I used to cosplay them when we were young.”

“Oh, I only started watching recently. In Leblanc, actually.”

“You have to watch it from the beginning,” she frowns. “How else do you understand the plot?”

“Are you implying that Featherman has a plot?”

Akechi is not a good person, in the grand scheme of things.

“Of course! How else do you feel the pain of episode eighteen?”

Because of that, any place that he may have had with the Thieves had been scrubbed clean.

“Death of a Condor? Did you actually feel anything when you watched that? I thought it was a filler episode.”

And for Sumire, she didn’t have a place there to begin with.

“Interesting. I thought you were a casual fan?”

(But maybe—)

“I know a trap when I see one.”

They can form a place for each other, instead.

Sumire’s about to retort when Akechi cocks his head. “Why are you here, Sumire?” he asks again.

“For good company.”

“You were with them.”

“I was,” she confirms. “And then you left.”

A palpable beat passes.

“You’re wasting your time, befriending a dead man.”

Sumire’s mouth curves into a bittersweet smile. “Maybe we’re both wrong about that. There’s always a chance that we’ll see each other down the line, you know.”

“In a cemetery, maybe. When has optimism ever worked for me?”

“It could start working now.”

“I doubt it,” he scoffs, and then his expression softens ever so slightly. “If that did happen, us meeting again down the line… I don’t think I’d be against that idea.”

Akechi gives her a warning look and rushes, “But odds are—”

“Let me worry about the odds,” Sumire says. “I think I’m allowed to spend my time doing what I want. I mean,” she shrugs. “That’s what we fought for, right?”

He smiles, just a little. “I suppose it is.”

Chattering and laughter can be heard from the inside of Leblanc, but they don’t bother to listen.

#goro akechi #sumire yoshizawa #ryuji sakamoto #akira kurusu #persona 5 #persona 5 royal #blinding lights #mine #im on LIMITED TIME #BUT THANK YOU SO MUCH #pegoryu #akiryu #its FIVE AM #kasumi yoshizawa #fic tag

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wolfir-shard · 5 years

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You Know I’d Do Anything For You

FUCKNKGIN CHALLENGE ACCEPTED everyone please go shower minty in love ok?? AUs r TOP-NOTCH here’s... a small take of my own on the Minake Detective/Hitman AU ;A;

There were worse and less ironic ways to die, but Minato wasn’t really bothered by it. It was almost hilarious that he would be bleeding like this on the ground of some seedy warehouse in the dead of night with Goro Akechi pushing hair out of his eyes.

He gave a little laugh at the ridiculous nature of it all that became more of a cough, and it hurt a lot more than he was expecting. That was the problem with pain: your brain dampened the effect after it was over with, so every time something happened it hurt anew, like your were a child just seeing the universe and experiencing pain for the first time.

“Why?” Akechi hissed out angrily, already trying to pull his shirt away from the wound, and drawing Minato's attention. “Why the hell did you do that, Arisato-?!”

Minato winced at the roughness and the feverish pace of the pulling. He bit his lip and grinned weakly in reply, pushing his glasses up onto his forehead. “Y-Y’know, I thought you would be more grateful…”

“Shut up!” There was a frazzled fray to the other’s voice that caused Minato to obey, and he turned his eyes to Akechi.

The other’s teeth were grit, reddish-brown eyes shining with unshed tears, and hair hanging in little wet ringlets from the rain outside. He looked pitiful and terrible, a panicking creature trying desperately to fight an inevitable. Minato felt his brow furrow slightly, and then he winced again as Akechi prodded the wound.

It had been a simple investigation at first glance. The warehouse had been a weird place to go to for a search to be fair, but a string of otherwise unrelated clues about the strange disappearances the two were investigating all kept pointing here, so it was imperative they at least check out the space. They’d pulled up just as night was falling in Minato’s old navy blue car, stepping out into the rain and meager streetlight like some kind of bad detective noir movie.

The warehouse was dark, and damp, and full of shadows that kept them both on edge. The towers of crates, half illuminated, the maddening plink of dripping water… Everything was a strain to not focus on, and both of them were far, far too nervous. They walked back to back through the aisles, guns at the ready, and eyes scanning the darkness for threats. Once or twice Minato thought he saw one or two shadows actually move, and they would halt, but neither ever managed to catch sight of whatever was casting them.

Searching out what they needed had been going nowhere, and Minato was ready to throw in the towel for the night when several men had stepped out of the shadows and into view. Minato wasn’t sure at the time why there were so many, where they had come from, why they had guns -- too many facts all at once -- but Akechi had gone as white as a sheet, one had raised his gun, and Minato was moving in front of Akechi before any of them had the time to think.

The bullet had connected with him and it was like someone had stabbed him with a spear made of molten rock. All at once his mind was too slow and he was stumbling back, and the shock was written so clearly on the man's face, the shock and the disgust that was so chilling it made him feel momentarily sick. It was as if he had never anticipated someone stepping in front of… What must have been his target.

Goro. Minato’s mind supplied as he fell ungracefully forwards onto his knees, the whole world moving in slow motion. He was going to shoot Goro.

In that moment most of everything clicked into place, as if the murder board and the files flashing before his eyes, details he stored and bookmarked for later were all thrown open across his mind’s eye. Goro Akechi coming to work for him, he connections to the government, the suddenly silenced news outlets, the disappearances... Masayoshi Shido, the mayoral hopeful, covering up scandals and alternate viewpoints with the quick and quiet extension of a hitman, in a detecting inner circle, access to high-level cases and equipment, information… It fell so neatly into place Minato was honestly impressed, and a little bit pissed off it had taken him until now to realize it.

Minato was a target -- had been a target? -- but if he wasn’t dead that meant he had been important, he had been right not to be trusting and now there was a price being paid for their guards being down.

He raised his head, the first man was raising his gun again, but Minato heard the muffled burst of a silenced gun and then the man was stumbling back, and then the man was running, and the bursts repeated three or four times, sending the other hitmen scattering. Goro kept firing at their retreating bodies, his hands shaking minutely. Minato took a rattling breath and his entire body set on fire, causing him to slump forwards with a whimper of pain.

Then Akechi was on him, all hands and support and Minato found himself draped across Akechi’s lap, leaning against his shoulder while the other fumbled to stop the bleeding with shaking hands.

“Why?” Akechi hissed again, though this time it was less shocked and angry. It sounded more pained and scared than anything and Minato fought to keep his eyes open.

“Because… You’re my friend.” Minato said, wincing as the wound stung and pain radiated through his body. “C-Couldn’t just… Do nothing…”

“I’m your enemy you imbecile-” Akechi choked out, fumbling with his own shirt.

“Mm.” Minato acknowledged. “Smart enemy.”

“Stop talking, save your strength.”

“Why are you… Trying to save me?” Minato turned silver eyes back to his companion, who was avoiding eye contact as he ripped fabric to make bandages.

“Because you’re important.” Akechi responded curtly, his hands trembling still.

“Important…?” Minato returned, amused.

“Can you kindly quit being smug for two minutes? Please?”

“Why am I important, Akechi?”

The other fell silent, into a minute where Minato had to breathe a little harder to keep himself conscious.

“You were kind when you didn’t need to be.” Akechi decided on, wrapping the torn shirt around the bleeding wound. “You are a person I wish I could be and everything that I am not.”

“Jealous?”

“Immensely.”

“Did Shido send you after me?”

Akechi bit his lip, and then nodded, almost slumping in quiet defeat.

“Why?”

“You had information he was afraid of getting out. I was to leech you of all useful information and then kill you.”

Minato laughed, and winced. His head was swimming. A target. “Is that so…”

“Minato stay with me-” Akechi pulled him closer, the pain evident in his beautiful ruby eyes. “Stay… Stay with me. Please. W-Why did you jump in front of me?”

“Because… You’re… my friend, Goro.” He murmured again. “We’re partners…”

“You idiot.” Tears were spilling down Akechi’s cheeks, and Minato reached up to wipe them away. “You’re going to die for a Mephistophiles, Minato. I don’t deserve your kindness.”

“M’not dead yet.” Minato murmured, and then sighed as the world began slipping away. “Will you sing for me…?”

“S-Sing?” Akechi repeated.

“Mmh.” Minato nodded, slow and sluggish. “Just… whatever…”

Akechi took in a breath and then gently gathered up Minato, starting to sing as he stood. Minato’s vision and head swayed and he rested his cheek against Goro’s shoulder. There was a heartbeat in his ear, and he wasn’t sure if it was his or Akechi’s, thrumming softly to the beat of the song that echoed like angels in his head, reverberating with a quiet affection that felt too raw and powerful for a mere mortal body. Minato wasn’t aware of when his eyes had closed, only that the darkness around him felt cold, and it was pulling at the warmth encased in his chest.

The darkness felt so safe, so steady and almost inviting despite the cold. The warmth burned him and promised pain and light, and a struggle he was not sure he could win. It would be so easy to let the darkness claim him, soft and silent, falling into it like falling asleep and sinking into the depths like a great ship to its final resting place. It would be so easy to let go.

But the song, it called him, quiet and imploring. It echoed in his soul and his heart, begging him to return to the light. It sounded like love and pain and heartbreak, and Minato was drawn to it like a moth to a flame.

The world came into focus slowly, first he could feel. He was somewhere soft, and warm. Dry too. His hand had things wrapped around it, and his other hand was being held. He was breathing. He could feel his hair on his face, something over his mouth and nose. The air smelled sterile and cold… Slowly hearing returned, the quiet beeping of a hospital heart monitor, and the singing. The song that had pulled him just out of slipping away.

Minato cracked his eyes open.

The ceiling of a hospital room greeted his eyes as he blinked the fuzz away and turned his head towards the sound. Akechi was still singing, still soaking wet, holding Minato’s hand and singing quietly to it. All of Minato was hurting right now, and the dim light of the hospital wasn’t quite dim enough for his aching eyes, but it was something. He was alive.

“What was that about me dying?” He croaked, smiling as Akechi jumped a good foot in the air, eyes opening wide and mouth slightly open. The expression made Minato laugh, and it hurt just as much as it did before.

“Minato-!” Akechi lit up like a star, and grasped his hand tighter. “How are you feeling?”

“Like garbage…” He shut his eyes with a quiet wince as he processed the radiating pain. “Feels like someone stabbed me with a rusty pole… But I’m alive.”

“It’s a miracle.” Akechi murmured, still quietly stroking Minato’s hand. The two remained there for a few silent minutes, Minato's only movement being to lace his fingers with Akechi's. He could feel the other's pulse against a wayward finger; fast and panicked still.

“... Did you ever stop singing?” Minato turned his eyes to Akechi again, curious and soft.

Akechi glanced away, and dug his teeth into his lower lip, before quietly admitting “No.” as if he was embarrassed.

Minato smiled, and weakly squeezed his hand. “You had a hand in the miracle.”

“Don’t be silly.” his companion scoffed, though it sounded sad.

“You did.” Minato insisted. “I was right between life and death and the only thing that saved me was your song. I could hear it… Echoing softly in my ear the whole time.” He thumbed the skin of Akechi’s hand.

Akechi blinked at him, as if genuinely surprised, and then smiled, weak and true, and everything soft about the world. Minato wanted to bottle up that smile and keep it forever. “If you say so.”

“I know so.” Minato murmured, still smiling, and Akechi laughed. It was enough for Minato to start laughing too, in this one moment of safety and… trust.

#persona 3 #persona 5 #detective/hitman au #minake #persona #minato arisato #goro akechi #im sorry i wanted it to be perfect #i kept it in my drafts for like five days #me: i need to edit it and make sure it's perfect #sobs #here u go

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ichigopanhpff · 5 years

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BNHA Fic: Blink! Ch. 10

Read Ch. 9 | Masterlist

SPOILER ALERT: We in S4 territory now guys! Also, sorry for the delayed post on 9 this week. I tried the schedule thing with Tumblr and couldn’t edit the date.

Also, early post and backstory time for Ren!

Until Eri’s location can be confirmed, the U.A. students were on standby. During the debrief with Eraser Head, he reminded them it was forbidden to talk about their internships and wanted to reaffirm their conviction with the plan. Hadou reasoned the fact they let the first and second year in the meeting meant their strengths were acknowledged. He also reminded them to stay in their lane should things go south and can’t complete their objective.

Because of the NDA, Ren canceled her late night training sessions with Bakugou and Todoroki until the mission was over; what pained her the most was she couldn’t talk to Tomoe and Seri about it. Without saying much, she sent them a text message in their group chat, promising to explain everything in a few days to assure them she wasn’t emotionally relapsing. Everyone’s hearts were on edge and heavy with anxiety while the chess pieces slowly moved into motion by the efforts of the pro heroes.

She laid awake on her bed in the dead of night yet again and could hear light rain showers pattering on her balcony.

Not even the sweet release of slumber would allow her mind to relax. Sitting up and rubbing her face, her eyes met with the closet door at the far wall. Unable to do anything else, she threw the blanket off of herself and walked to it on tip toes. Gently sliding the door open, she stared down at the box with hesitation.

Ren sat on the floor in the nook between her bed and the closet. Opening the lid with shaky hands, she took a steady breath and reached in to take out the large ledger book, old photographs printed on paper bound by a now dried out rubber band, and a family photo of the four of them outside of their old house.

This box was the physical manifestation of all of her bad childhood memories. She couldn’t forget it even if she wanted to.

It took a while for the dust to settle after she moved cross continent; she and her mom applied to become citizens in Japan under the guise of asylum for the sake of formalities and to keep good relations between the two countries. Ren was eight when their citizenship finally got approved. She decided to wait for a year to take matters into her own hands to research Chisaki Kai on her own and his ties to the Hassaikai.

It wasn’t until she was twelve she was almost able to act on her justice.

Being the new kid at school was the perfect cover-up for her where nosy adults or students couldn’t even fathom someone like her investigating the yakuza. She learned how to use the computer on her own through reading books in the library and researched untraceable hacking methods on the internet in order to gain access to the Dark Net. It was her only usable resource.

Wandering the streets at night in hopes of catching any useful leads in person was too risky; she would stand out too much in the world of twilight adults being a child. There was also the matter with the truancy police if they spotted her; sure, she could use her quirk to get away quickly, but she’d be done if anyone caught wind of her abilities.

Then there was her mom. She uprooted her entire life for her in California and was grieving the death of her husband and son; she didn’t want her heart to break any more.

She sacrificed enough.

For three whole years, she gathered information on her own, not once letting slip of anything in order to keep her façade as your run of the mill international student and obedient daughter.

All to protect her mom and deliver the justice where the government couldn’t.

Just when she thought she could finally act on her “justice”, the big wheel of fate spun and put a stop to her movements. Eraser Head, Fourth Kind and Gang Orca reprimanded her on her way home from school one crisp autumn day. She tried to talk herself out of the situation by feigning ignorance to no avail.

They were pro-heroes after all, smart ones at that.

Fourth Kind made his move to grab Ren, she instinctively activated her quirk and appeared behind him to give him a swift kick to the head, knocking him off balance. Using her momentum, she showed up in front of Gang Orca and punched him in the gut with all the strength she could muster before making her escape on foot.

“For someone that small, she hits pretty hard,” Fourth Kind grunted out and rubbed the dulling pain where Ren hit him.

“A teleporting quirk, huh,” Eraser Head muttered out and scratched the back of his neck. “That’s gonna be annoying to deal with.”

Feeling her lungs burn from pushing her body to its upper limit, her small frame was close to collapsing. Her wavy shoulder length rose-gold hair swung wildly from movement.

She really did it now: she attacked pro heroes.

Stray crocodile tears threatened to spill out of her hazel-green eyes, trying to think of a plan to get out of this situation and pushed on. Wiping the sweat from her head, she ran until she could find a hiding spot to shake off their tail.

Unfortunately, luck wasn’t on her side as Eraser Head easily spotted her from above. He was wearing his goggles and felt herself freeze in place, unable to use her quirk to escape. Fourth Kind and Gang Orca lurked not too far behind. The three heroes managed to surround her in a triangle formation. There wasn’t anywhere she could go for safely.

“We just want to talk,” the goggled man assured.

“That’s what they all say,” she bit back with ferocity and tapped the bangles on her wrist together, forming a pair of T-clubs too large for her small forearms. Her small frame got into position, the fire of fight burning in her eyes. If they were here to reprimand her, she was going to go down swinging no matter what.

“Whoa, there.” Gang Orca held his hands up in neutral. “We’re not here to fight you.”

“Oh yeah?” she challenged. “Then why was Goro over there trying to grab me?” Her eyes gestured over to the intimidating four-armed man.

“Goro?” Fourth Kind was confused and pointed to himself. “That’s not my name. And I wasn’t trying to grab you,” he explained. “There was a bug on your book bag I wanted to brush off. I’m sorry if you misunderstood.”

Sensing the genuineness of the apology, Ren relaxed her frame a little and released her hands. The T-clubs transformed back into her accessory. Eraser Head jumped down from the utility pole he was perched on and made his way over.

“That’s a nifty accessory you got there,” Gang Orca remarked, trying to make peace and conversation with the young child. “Where did you get that?”

“It’s a present from my friend,” she mumbled out and rested her hand over one protectively.

“Could it be Melissa Shield by any chance?” Eraser Head asked.

Her head immediately jolted up and gave him a defensive look.

“Why do you know her name?”

“We know a lot of things, little girl,” he bluntly replied.

“Don’t ‘little girl’ me, you sallow-faced mophead!” she growled out and stomped her right foot down.

Eraser Head stood there dumbly taking the insult while Fourth Kind and Gang Orca had to turn away, stifling their laughter with shaking shoulders. The man dressed in black sighed and squatted down to meet her face to face.

“I’ll cut to the chase: we’re here to let you know you should stop investigating Chisaki Kai.”

Her voice audibly hitched at her throat, her eyebrows furrowing. The other two heroes quickly calmed down and turned back. They... weren’t here to take her to the cops? She was supposed to feel relief, but they wanted her to stop chasing the man who killed her dad and brother?

“There’s rumors on the street they’re close to finding out who you are,” Gang Orca explained with a gentle tone and crossed his arms. “And I’m sure you don’t want that.”

“But-but-” she stammered out in disbelief, her lips quivering. “I made sure I was untraceable…”

Fourth Kind also took a knee to meet Ren eye to eye.

“I’m sure you did, little one. It’s just that someone out there want to hurt you and your mom; we don’t want that to happen.”

“I… I can’t give up now. I’m so close!” she desperately cried. Her shoulders shook uncontrollably, trying to maintain what little control she had left over her feelings. “I don’t want my mom to be sad anymore! I want… I want…” she stuttered and broke down in tears.

Four years of repressed emotions suddenly burst out an overflowing dam.

“I want fair justice!”

The three pro-heroes rigidly stood as she wailed her little heart out and hiccupping. Her face was flushed from the lack of oxygen entering her body. Damp with fresh tears streamed down her small, red face. From a fly on the wall perspective, the adults looked like they were bullying the child. Ren walked up to Eraser Head and used his Capturing Weapon as her tissue.

The three heroes truly sympathized after reading her file; her story was well known in the pro hero circuit. Those who caught wind of it knew the real situation instead of what the media spun. Having gone through such a traumatic experience only to be left with nothing but disappointment by adults bound by the red tape of secrecy, they didn’t blame her for doing what she’s done.

Even they were impressed with the amount of tenacity and drive this girl had; it was much more than your average kid and to keep up with it for this long under disguise was an achievement.

“Have you calmed down?” the ebony haired man flatly asked, with the girl nodding and hiccuping still. Her eyes were puffy and red with snot running down her nose. Gang Orca took his handkerchief out from his breast pocket and handed it to Ren. She thanked him by nodding and cleaned herself up, blowing her nose loudly in it.

“Listen, we’re not saying what you were doing is wrong; it’s just risky,” Eraser Head picked up where he left off.

“You’re still a child and we don’t want to see you hurt. If you really want the fair justice you seek, go about it a different way,” Fourth Kind gently suggested. “Go about it the right way.”

Her damp and puffy hazel-green dejected orbs looked up at the kind and encouraging eyes of the three men.

“You have the makings of a great hero.” Gang Orca looked down at her and rolled his hand into a fist. “Be one for those where justice failed them.”

“Get stronger,” Eraser Head firmly stated. “Strong enough to enter the ring to face him head-on as a hero, Remy Hayes-Takahiro—no, Takahiro Ren. Only then will you be satisfied with your way of ‘justice.’”

The firm words of these three heroes engraved into her heart.

They acknowledged and saw her in what she could be.

Ever since her encounter, she heeded their advice and stopped investigating out of safety for herself and her mom. Packing away all of the intel she gathered, she stuffed them in a box and buried it in the back of her closet at home.

No one will ever know.

Two days later, the U.A. students received a text in the dead of night.

The operation has started.

It’s go time.

#mha fanfiction #bnha fanfiction #mha spoilers #bnha spoilers #bnha oc #mha oc #oc backstory #mha fourth kind #bnha fourth kind #mha eraserhead #bnha eraserhead #mha gang orca #bnha gang orca #bnha season 4 #mha season 4

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sunshinetrappedinourhearts · 5 years

Text

Reaching out Ch1: Pancakes (ShuAke)

AO3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16988289/chapters/39932553 Title: Reaching out Chapter: 1 Chapter title: Pancakes Pairing: ShuAke (Akira x Akechi) Game: Persona 5 *Spoiler warning* Notes: So I had the first chapter of this laying around for a long while now, and I remembered I never uploaded it. I hope this will motivate me more to actually continue the series I have in mind! The title might change at some point, because I didn't have much inspiration for it. xD

It was a fine Sunday just past noon. Goro Akechi was standing in the train, right hand clutching one of the handles hanging from the ceiling, eyes staring blankly through the window in front of him. He appeared to be calm as always. On the inside however, he was close to panicking.

‘Do you want to eat pancakes with me this Sunday?’

The guy’s expression had been so perfectly devoid of emotion, his grey eyes just staring at him through his glasses, his face slightly tilting when Goro didn’t reply immediately.

Quickly, he had regained himself, coughing softly before answering with his usual gentle smile. ‘Oh, sure! Excuse me for falling silent, you caught me off guard for a bit. But of course, at what time should we meet?’

His lips had curled into the tiniest of smirks and Goro had tried his hardest to ignore the loud throbbing pain in his chest.

He should have declined him.

For the past few days, Goro had been contemplating over why on earth Akira Kurusu would invite him to eat pancakes, but then it had dawned on him.

He had made a terrible, terrible mistake.

Akira was going to confront him.

He was going to ask him how he had been able to hear the stupid cat talk that one day at the TV station. About pancakes.

There was almost no time to come up with a good excuse, nor was it a good idea to cancel the appointment.

So here he found himself, 10 minutes away from their meeting time, on his way to Harajuku, mentally cursing that damned cat.

He wondered if the whole group would be there to confront him.

He wondered if Akira had already figured out everything about his true identity.

This was not how it was supposed to go…

No, it’s okay, it’s not too late yet. Maybe he was worried for nothing. And he could still talk his way out of this.

These were the thoughts running through his mind as he exited the train and walked towards the station entrance.

It was a good thing he was used to controlling his facial expressions, because the other boy was already waiting for him, his hands nonchalantly pushed in the pockets of his casual blue jeans.

He looked so ordinary like that, a perfect high school student, not too smart, not too good-looking, not too outgoing, not too shy. He looked nothing like the leader of a criminal group that called themselves the Phantom Thieves. But he couldn’t let his guard down.

Not that Goro ever did that around anyone, anyways.

‘Hello there,’ he said and watched observingly how Akira reacted to the sound of his greeting. He stopped leaning against the wall and locked their eyes together.

‘I hope I didn’t make you wait too long…’

The other teen shook his head. ‘Shall we get going?’

Oh great, straight to business. There was no doubt in Goro’s mind that the boy was going to confront him. It was a good thing that they were the only ones there. He didn’t think he could have handled the two loud blondies and the eccentric artist staring him down as well.

The walk towards the cafe was silent and awkward, and Goro found himself often glancing next to him, but Akira’s gaze wasn’t even once fixed on him. Only looking straight ahead.

‘So, what made you invite me out for pancakes all of a sudden?’ Goro forced himself to ask, putting a carefree smile on his face.

‘No real reason,’ Akira said. ‘I just felt like it, is all.’

A slightly nervous chuckle escaped Goro’s lips. ‘It’s unusual for you to think of me, then. I must say I feel honoured though, I never imagined you would want to spend time with me like this.’

‘Think of it as a date.’

The words were so misplaced that Goro wasn’t sure whether he had misheard them.

‘Excuse me?’

Akira’s eyes were locked with his, and for a long while they were as empty of emotion as ever, until that grin started teasing the corners of his mouth and small sparkles of light emerged within the depths of grey. ‘It’s a date,’ he once again said.

Goro coughed and had to look away. The weather was quite hot today.

‘You shouldn’t joke about those things, Kurusu-kun.’

‘Well, what if I said it’s no joke?’

Akira stopped suddenly, giving him no time to answer his question.

‘We’re here.’

Goro looked up, cursing the boy for making him feel like a helpless mouse in the claws of a merciless cat – playing with him to his heart’s content until finishing him off. Why couldn’t he just cut the nonsense already and get straight to the point?

Then, he really looked, and he noticed they were in front of a shop called Luna Café; its name was written in elegant letters on the building and on the sign in front of it. Outside, it didn’t look that special. However, Goro knew it was famous for its gigantic pancakes and it was a place he had always wanted to visit but never got the chance to.

‘Are we going inside or not?’ Akira asked, his eyebrows raised.

‘Ah, yes, of course.’

Akira smirked and went first, opening the door. Goro waited for him to enter until he realised the other boy was actually holding the door open for him.

‘What are you waiting for?’ he even asked.

Couldn’t he just erase that fucking grin of his?! Goro wanted nothing more than to punch it off his face but of course there was no way he could do that, so he quickly stepped past him, inside.

Of course, the other boy just had to move way too close to him in the process of closing the door, to the point that he could almost feel his breath.

This goddamn thief-

He had been so wrong about feeling relieved he didn’t bring his friends along. Oh, how he wished that the Phantom Thieves had just ganged up on him in a dark alley instead. That would’ve been much better than this- this torture. The leader was toying with him, making him weak and embarrassed, tearing his perfect mask to shreds while he was looking.

It didn’t help that the word good-looking had crossed his mind a few minutes earlier, even if he had labelled Akira as average.

Even so, he was now associating it with him.

Reconsidering his earlier judgment.

That beautiful ugly smirk of his didn’t help at all.

He couldn’t let him though.

So he let out a cough and turned around, the serene smile again planted on his face.

‘That was very gentlemanly of you, Kurusu-kun,’ he remarked. ‘Shouldn’t you save that gesture for a pretty lady that’s on your mind, however?’

‘There’s only a pretty boy on my mind,’ Akira said before turning around to let the waitress know he wanted a table for two.

Goro almost bit his lip – almost. That fucker.

Just in time he managed to keep his facial expression from changing.

He was 100 percent certain now that Akira was toying with him to make him stumble, make mistakes.

He would probably start asking questions the moment he was convinced Goro was completely at his mercy.

Goro wouldn’t let him. He would win this strange battle no matter what.

His mission was going to succeed after all.

He would wipe away all obstacles in front of him.

And the Phantom Thieves were the biggest of them all.

The waitress showed them to their table and Goro quickly buried himself in the menu. Besides pancakes, the shop also had things like burgers, salads, curry, and many more dishes, actually. But the one thing Goro had wanted to come here for-

There it was. The so-called ‘mountain pancakes’. They were enormous, packed with all kinds of fruit and whipped cream. On the pictures in the menu they looked absolutely marvellous, and they probably wouldn’t be as good in real life, but Goro had still been wanting to try those since he read about them in a magazine a few years ago. Now he was finally here, with his supposed to be enemy, but heck, he was going to take advantage of it.

‘Should we order one of those for the two of us? Which one do you want, Akechi-kun?’

Goro felt his heart jump a little in surprise at the sound of Akira calling his name, he wasn’t sure anymore whether he had done that before. It sounded strange.

‘One?’ he heard himself ask.

‘Yes. Don’t you know? Supposedly, those mountain pancakes are meant for two people,’ Akira explained. ‘Which one do you want?’

‘But I could easily finish one by myself.’

Goro didn’t realise he was pouting until a pleasant warm-hearted laugh filled his ears. It came from Akira. A little shocked, he shot a glance at his companion who was laughing in such a genuine way it made Goro wonder if it really was a fake one. It sounded too real. And it was beautiful.

The other boy was now covering his mouth with the back of his hand, his cheeks a little bit red as if he was embarrassed.

‘I’m sorry, Akechi-kun, that was just so adorable I couldn’t help myself.’

Once again Goro felt his blood rising towards his cheeks, racing, pounding and making his head feel dizzy.

‘So what do you want to do, get one for each of us?’ Akira was staring at him, still smiling. It was so different from his usual smirk that Goro still had trouble getting a hold of himself.

‘Errr, ehm, no one is fine, I think. Is-isn’t that more for couples though?’

Ah, the smirk was back.

‘There’s two of us here, doesn’t that make us a couple?’

That bastard.

‘Well, I suppose you’re not wrong about that. Well then. On one condition – we’ll take the one with mixed fruit and whipped cream.’

‘Roger that.’

After the waitress took their order, Goro quietly observed Akira from the corners of his eyes. He looked pretty relaxed for someone who was going to interrogate a person on a very serious topic. Then again, this guy was probably never nervous, at least not visibly.

He wondered why he was going through the hassle of coming all the way here, wasting money on expensive pancakes even though the only purpose of this meeting was to confirm the fact that they were enemies.

It was probably part of his plan to make his mask crumble, and judging by the reckless remark Goro had made just now, it was working out perfectly.

He really was hopeless.

‘So, tell me something?’ Akira suddenly asked him.

It had been quiet for a while now so Goro looked up, surprised. ‘Eh, me? What do you want to hear? Something about the Phantom Thief case?’

‘Nah,’ Akira waved his words away. ‘Something about you. That’s why I invited you after all.’

Aha, there. It was starting.

Two could play this game, however.

‘Oh, honestly, there’s not much to call interesting about me, you know. Beside my detective work, I’m a very boring high school student trying hard not to get behind on his studies.’

‘You have a girlfriend? Boyfriend?’

A nervous chuckle escaped Goro’s throat before he could stop it. Damnit. ‘Oh please, Kurusu-kun, I hardly have time for something like that.’

‘You can call me Akira, you know,’ the other boy beamed.

‘That…’

‘You don’t have many friends, do you?’

An empty laugh sounded, and Goro only vaguely registered it was his. ‘Someone as unwanted as me doesn’t really have friends.’

There it was. Goro wished he could turn back time right there, but there was no point in desiring the impossible.

As much as Goro wanted someone to listen to and understand his story, it was a terrible idea to let that someone be Akira Kurusu, the leader of the Phantom Thieves, whom were his worst obstacle disturbing him from reaching his long planned goal. After all, what he wanted to achieve was in order to get revenge on the demons of his past, that had brought this misery upon him in the first place, and move on afterwards. Besides, this wasn’t the first time he let something about his past slip to this boy. He shouldn’t have visited Leblanc so often, even if it had been for the purpose of keeping an eye on Akira.

‘Why do you call yourself that?’ Akira asked.

‘Because that’s what I am.’ He forced himself to smile at the other boy. In the process, he could see the complicated expression on his face. Goro considered himself to be quite good at reading people, but he was unable to identify the look in his eyes.

Luckily, the conversation was cut off by the waitress presenting their dishes and drinks to them.

‘Thank you for waiting,’ she smiled before putting two black coffees in front of them, followed by a mountain of pancake, fruit and cream.

It was so delicious looking that it immediately claimed all of Goro’s attention. It turned out he had been too pessimistic – the picture on the menu didn’t even do it justice. Never in his life had Goro cast his eyes upon something so delicious looking. The enormous plate was decorated with different kinds of fruit to the sides; strawberries, kiwi, melon, grapes, mango… And in the middle of it stood the tower of pancakes proudly, between every single pancake was cream and fruit spread out. On the top of it all, a proud swirl of whipped cream stood, surrounded by fruit and a few mint leaves.

‘This… This looks fantastic,’ he sputtered.

‘It’s almost too beautiful to eat, isn’t it?’ Akira said. To Goro’s surprise, the other boy was staring at it in awe, his attention finally fixed on something different from teasing him.

‘What, are you crazy?’ Goro found himself grinning. He grabbed a fork, dipped it in that splendid tower of whipped cream and shoved it in his mouth. The cream itself was already delicious – he couldn’t wait to try it out in combination with the pancakes.

Akira let out a tiny shocked sound, making Goro look at him in wonder.

‘You destroyed it!’

He looked so utterly offended that Goro couldn’t hold back his laughter. It was hilarious – the always so impassive looking guy, completely losing his perfect poker face to the fact that someone else took the first bite of pancake before he was done admiring it.

Laughing felt strange.

Goro wasn’t sure when had been the last time he had laughed genuinely like this. He had forgotten what it was like to not force a smile because it was appropriate to the situation, but to just let it out because something inside his belly was itching, tickling him with a thousand feathers.

‘Hey, hey, don’t laugh at me,’ Akira said at some point, quasi-upset (Goro could tell because the corners of his mouth were twitching, desperately wanting to curl up in a smile), as he quickly put some strawberries in his mouth, just before pricking the very first piece of pancake with his fork.

‘That’s unfa-!’ Goro started, for not just the first time today voicing his thoughts immediately before sorting them out. However, he was unable to finish his sentence, since Akira had just shoved his pancake containing fork past Goro’s lips.

There were two conflicting thoughts now running through his mind, as he watched Akira flashing him an ear to ear grin, but tasted the pancake he’d been wanting to eat for ages now at the same time.

Goro blinked a few times, as if that would clear up his mind, but it didn’t. It only made him realize that only a few seconds earlier, the very same fork had touched Akira’s lips when he ate the strawberries. And that didn’t help.

Akechi Goro hated blushing.

The pancake was so good though.

He swallowed. ‘Tha-what, why, I mean, that was good.’

Akira’s grin changed into a smile as he watched Goro, head rested in the palm of his right hand.

Then, while Goro took a sip of his coffee – that wasn’t even half as good as Leblanc’s –, Akira took another piece of pancake and put it in his own mouth.

‘You’re still going to use that? I mean you can have mine I didn’t use it yet and-’

The other boy winked at him and Goro quickly drank some more of his coffee before he started blurting out more nonsense.

This wasn’t going well.

He had to stop.

Think.

Akira was winning here.

It was just a matter of time before he would start asking questions, and considering the weird half-relaxed state Goro was in right now, there was a high chance he’d spill some information that wasn’t meant for a Phantom Thief’s ears.

So Goro took a deep breath, ate some more from the absolutely delicious pancake and tried to recollect himself.

They ate in silence, leaving Goro wondering why the other had stopped talking. Wasn’t that supposed to be his strategy? Catching him off guard by teasing him and asking weird questions?

Goro watched him sip his coffee. The pancake mountain was almost gone, most of it because of Goro’s doing. He took another bite and chewed carefully as he weighed his options.

‘So, when are you going to tell me the real reason why you invited me?’ he finally asked after swallowing.

Akira just turned to look at him for a bit, face blank as if he didn’t understand what Goro was talking about. ‘The real reason?’ he then echoed, right before he threw a smirk in Goro’s direction.

‘I’ll tell you later. Maybe.’

At that, Goro couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow. Why? Was he scared they would make a scene in the café? So he wanted to wait until they were outside again? That seemed like the most logical reason. Then why did he stop trying to break Goro’s mask down?

He didn’t understand.

Goro didn’t understand Akira Kurusu and it frustrated him more than he wished to admit.

‘Have you had enough?’ Akira asked, nodding at the remaining bit of the pancake tower.

‘Yes. You haven’t had much, take it if you like,’ Goro smiled.

‘I must be special, receiving pancakes from you that you could’ve eaten yourself.’ Akira took a bite and looked at him innocently.

‘It’s only because I’m full, you know.’

Akira swallowed. ‘Ohhh, really now? Mister I could easily finish one by myself?’

‘I could still do that, but I’m polite, you haven’t had much yet.’

‘Aha! Which means I am special!’ Akira grinned in a triumphant way, putting one more pancake piece in his mouth just after winking at him quickly.

Goro just let out a sigh and drank the last bit of his coffee, but it was a little hard to resist the itch in the corners of his mouth, that desperately wanted to form his lips into a smile.

It was strange spending time with this guy, because Goro honestly couldn’t remember ever having a sensation like this before. It’s true that he didn’t have many friends, like Akira guessed earlier. In fact, he never had friends at all. Which was only natural for an unwanted child like him. There was no place for him in this world.

Then why, did this boy made him feel like he might? If only a tiny bit?

It was probably his mind playing tricks on him, because there was no way.

Akira Kurusu was a Phantom Thief after all. The leader of the Phantom Thieves, on top of that.

So as soon as this weird day was over, he was going to return to his normal life, with only his goal in mind, there was no need for him to get too close to others. He would return to keeping an eye on the Phantom Thief leader, but not in an unnecessary way.

Would Akira ask for the incident at the TV station after all, he would make up an excuse on the spot. He should be able to do that.

‘Shall we walk back to the station?’ Akira then asked and Goro agreed to it.

While walking back, they spoke casually about school and other daily matters. There was no sign the other boy was going to ask him about the stupid cat, and with each passing moment, Goro got more confused about what the reason of them meeting today had been. So when they were about to part at Shibuya station, he couldn’t hold his curiosity anymore.

‘So-’ he started, and immediately Akira turned to look at him in an amused way. His grey eyes were slightly beaming again, and there was a tiny smile playing with the corners of his lips, only a shadow of his typical grin.

‘I am still curious why you invited me today,’ Goro said.

‘You certainly don’t give up easily,’ Akira said. ‘Were you thinking about it all this time?’

‘That-’

‘I wonder what kind of reason you came up with by yourself, because it seemed to bother you quite a lot.’

‘I…’

Akira was coming closer and Goro wasn’t quite aware of the fact that he took a few steps backwards in the process, until his back suddenly found himself against the wall.

Still, the other boy came closer, and then they were only a few inches apart.

Goro didn’t know where to look. Was he going to attack him after all? In the middle of Shibuya station? He quickly glanced past Akira, only to find nobody was paying attention to them. It was a crowded station after all. So that’s why…

‘Kurusu-kun…’ he started, trying to form the words in his head before saying the out loud, but it was strangely hard to concentrate when their eyes were locked together like this. Once again those tiny little lights were dancing within his eyes, and they were now so close that Goro could see them in such a detailed way. It was distracting him. It was a pity his glasses were in the way.

‘Didn’t I tell you to call me Akira?’

Then, Akira moved, and his lips touched Goro’s cheek so shortly he found himself wondering whether it had been an illusion. Judging by his own heated face and Akira’s close to perfect smirk it hadn’t.

‘There’s your reason,’ Akira said. ‘Let’s leave it at that. I’ll explain it to you if we go on another date later.’

He winked at him, and then just walked away like nothing had happened, hands in his pockets, being swallowed by the masses of Shibuya. Just an ordinary high school student.

Causing Goro’s heart to ache in a way he had never experienced before.

#shuake #akeshu #persona 5 #akira x akechi #akechi goro #akira kurusu #ren amamiya #goro akechi #fanfiction #my stuff

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she-witch-inanna · 5 years

Text

Leadership || Drabble

Continuation of this right here.

Special shout out to @rexidot and @ryujithisisbullshitsakamoto for encouraging my bad behavior

The silence was deafening. He had to make a decision he knew, but...

Ryuji wasn’t good at strategy beyond ‘headlong attacks and brute force’. Futaba could guide them but wasn’t good when it came to combat situations. Morgana was impulsive and rude, and he’d wind up getting ignored. That left Ren with Makoto or Akechi.

Makoto was the safe bet. Everyone respected her, and she knew what she was doing when it came to combat, but she seemed more focused on her own capabilities than everyone else's. It was up in the air whether or not she knew enough about the team to use everyone effectively. But Akechi...

Akechi was the outside bet. Most of the team didn’t like him, and they’d be upset if Ren told them to listen to him. But he was cunning and he learned quick. Plus he seemed to already understand a great deal about the team; their strengths and weaknesses. On more than one occasion he had given Ren sound advice on their potential next move. Plus...

If he got the team to trust him, got Akechi to feel accepted...maybe this wouldn’t all end in tears.

“Ren?” Grey eyes focused on Haru, who had tipped her head to one side. “Who are you leaving in charge?”

Breathe, Ren. One. Two. Answer the question. “Akechi.”

The reaction was immediate. Ryuji damn near fell out of his chair with a loud yell of his usual “FOR REAL?!”, Ann raised her eyebrows but didn’t look displeased, Yusuke simply nodded, his face almost as impassive as Ren’s own, Makoto was doing her best not to look disappointed, Futaba had an incredulous expression as she looked between Ren and Akechi, Haru smiled into her cup and nodded as Yusuke had done, and Akechi...

Akechi’s eyes had positively lit up. He seemed so thrilled to be trusted with this. “I won’t let you down, Joker.”

“Are you serious, Ren?!” Ryuji was incensed.

Ren could see the way Akechi’s shoulders stiffened slightly as he turned to address the blond. “Now now, our Dear Leader has spoken.” He was smiling that same Detective Prince Smile that hid his eyes and his emotions from the world. Suddenly Ren was worried that this was a bad call.

Ryuji wasn’t listening to him, focused as he was on Ren. “Why him?”

Well, here goes everything. “Because he’s smart, crafty, learns quickly, and has quite a few good ideas. I need you all to trust me on this. More importantly, I need you to trust him.”

Ryuji sat back in his chair with a huff as Akechi beamed down at Ren. “That is high praise indeed. I will endeavor to live up to your expectations.”

Ren shot him a small smile of his own. “Just be yourself out there and you’ll do fine. You’re good at what you do. Just make sure that you’re all listening to each other.” He shot a pointed look at Ryuji.

Hopefully, this wouldn’t all end in tears.

“Skull, hang on!” Akechi’s voice rang out as a pale gloved hand pulled at his mask in a flash of blue fire and blinding white light. He dashed over, pulling the gun that Ren had gifted to him only days earlier and firing three succinct shots to drop the final Shadow. He reached out a hand, pulling Ryuji to his feet. “Are you alright?”

“Y-yeah.” The blond rubbed the back of his head for a moment before stretching his arms out. “I owe ya one, Crow.” He grinned at him, that bright Sunshine grin as Ren had often called it.

Akechi wore a rather cocky smirk up until Ryuji smiled at him. It made him soften, offering a small smile in return. “I’m just glad you’re alright.”

In his ear, Akechi heard Futaba’s high-pitched tones. “Those were some slick moves, Crow. Glad to know at least one of you can keep on your feet.” There was a playful sneer in her voice that made Ryuji scoff.

He saw Ryuji scowl, but he couldn’t help the lighthearted chuckle that rumbles in his chest for a moment. "Thank you, Oracle, but I'm glad to have Skull. He's the heart of the team, and I would hate for something to happen to him. So be more careful, perhaps?"

Ryuji looked back at him with something akin to shock before an easy smile returned to him. Was that simply his default expression? How did he manage to smile all the time as he did? Was it normal to be so inhumanly positive?

There was more to that line of thought, but he was drawn out of his reverie by a voice behind him. “So, Crow. What’s our next move?”

He turned to smile at Ann, who had stepped up to get the team back on track, before his hand went to his chin; a habit he always had when deep in thought. “Well, we don’t seem to be making much in the way of progress here. Perhaps we should search for a workaround. Oracle?”

“Ask and ye shall receive,” chirped Futaba in his ear again. “Just hang on one second.” Akechi spent the entire thirty seconds of silence checking the rest of the team and the hallways around them. They looked tired, but they couldn’t afford to leave yet. They had barely made any progress. Honestly, what was with the security today? Had they truly been so careless when Ren got injured?

Futaba pointed them to an alternate route and Akechi wasted no time in leading the way. “Let’s move. Quick and quiet. The less they notice us, the better.” They couldn’t risk raising the alarm today. They had almost reached their destination when Akechi noticed a familiar door. “A safe room...! Inside, everyone.”

He held the door open, waiting until everyone had gotten inside before ducking in after them. Looking around at the team as they all collapsed into chairs, onto sofas, or in Ryuji’s case the floor, Akechi frowned. “Let’s take a break and recover.” He himself took a seat on the edge of the table in the center of the room, pushing his mask up onto his head as he ran his fingers through his hair. Honestly, how did Ren manage to make this look so easy?

“Mona, did Joker ever manage to restock on that medicine he always has?” Something of a foolish question, Akechi figured. He cast a rather worried glance to Ryuji, who was still on the floor, and another one to Makoto, who had been barely keeping her feet during that last battle. “I think we have a few teammates who need it.”

Morgana nodded, reaching for his fanny pack and pulling out the bottle of pills and tossing it to him. There was a small part of Akechi that was wondering why he was going so far out of his way like this, why he was caring so much, but he pushed it aside. He had a job to do. He had to make this look good. He had to convince them that he cared.

He didn’t. He couldn’t. He had a job to do. There was no time for emotions now. He was too close to his goal for that. Just stay focused, Goro. Keep up the lie.

The lie...

Even he wasn’t sure who he was lying to anymore.

#Persona 5 #Goro Akechi #Witch Rants #Rami Writes

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imaginedeliciouspancakes · 6 years

Note

Heya! First I wanted to say I absolutely love your work! May I request an awkward Goro proposing to his s/o scenario? I wish only happiness for this precious boy Thanks!

AAAAAAAA THANK YOU SO MUCH!!! You guys are really too kind... ;;w;; I don’t know why I haven’t been motivated for the past few months. You guys are giving me so much support!! I hope I can be back for a bit longer soon! :’p

Anyways, here it is!! I’ve been thinking about this scenero a LOT lately so this is really long and self-indulged ahsdjak;;;; Enjoy!!

- Mod Blake

- Marriage is something both foreign and a big decision to him. His parents were never married nor truly loved one another; saying "I love you" to S/O for the first time was a hard enough decision.- But, regardless, he knows in his heart that they're the one he wants. S/O saved his life, after all. He wouldn't be alive today if they hadn't spent so much of their time and energy helping him recover and discover what it means to live.- He's deeply in love with S/O and S/O are deeply in love with him, so he knows that there's not a chance they would reject him. The love between the two of them is as strong as ever and can only get stronger from here.- ...But he cannot help but be a nervous wreck.- He thinks he's ready and buys the perfect ring for S/O, one that he knows they'll love (not as much as they love him though), but once he's home with his purchase, nerves are already starting to kick in.- He's doubting himself. What if they say no? What if they don't actually love me? What if this was all just a dream? What if this was all fake? So many doubts. This boy cannot calm himself.- His nerves are so strong that S/O see his behavior change and you question it, only making him more on-edge and suspicious to the surprise he had waiting for them whenever he got the guts to make it happen.- He wants the moment to be perfect. He wants it to be a moment they'll remember. And even if S/O would say things like "it doesn't have to be perfect" and "i'll always remember it no matter what" if they heard his doubts, he still cannot help but want to make it that way.- It's months after he bought the ring. He has it hidden away in a place S/O would never think to look, one they wouldn't think of being a hiding place for something so important and special. Even so, he hasn't forgotten about it. Not even for a moment.- The proposal has gotten into his head so much that it interfered with his detective work. He couldn't focus on anything at all. So he put his foot down, that winter day, that he was going to finally do it.- The weekend rolls around and he tells S/O that he's got something planned, just for the two of them, Sunday evening. This is out of the blue to S/O, since he has been swamped with work, spending long hours at the precinct, ever since he re-entered the police force a few years back. But they don't mention it to him and keep their suspicions a secret.- What he decided on was a bit cheesy but endearing. He took S/O to Tokyo Tower, a place neither of you had been despite having been in Tokyo for around a decade now. A decade since you two met. He then takes you to the park, despite the chilly, frozen winter air. - By the time you two reach a serene, romantic spot in the park, Goro's heart is pounding in his chest. He's surprised they hadn't said anything yet, since they were in his arms and very close to his chest. He wasn't going to back down. It was time and he was going to do it tonight.- The two of you share each other's warmth, kissing under the clear night sky, far away enough from the busy city that cars could hardly be heard. It was as if everyone else in the world just disappeared and it was only him and you. - He wasn't planning for the time in the park to be so long, but they letting out a soft sneeze made him realize: it's been 20 minutes since they arrived. It was getting late and cold. S/O were definitely going to catch a cold at this point.- The tremors in his body grow, going from what was just a reaction to the cold to the nerves about to boil over. S/O bring it up, suggesting that you two should head home before you both freeze. But a yelp of disagreement from him makes them jump and stare at him.- He's got their attention and curiosity. He has to do it now. He cannot just let this slip by, rack in his mind any longer.- He unwraps his arms from S/O's body and takes both their hands into his, standing before them with a constantly shifting expression. He doesn't know where to start since there is so much he wants to say, so much he wants to tell them. But he just lets the gate of emotions open and pour out his true feelings.- "S/O, I..." His trembling increases and he messily intertwines his fingers with theirs, stage fright kicking in. "I-I... I, uh.. I...!" He cannot keep his hands still with theirs, constantly fidgeting and moving.- "Yes, Goro?" S/O urges him to continue speaking, showing him that their attention is all his, but they have no idea how hard this all is for him.- "I love you!!" He blurts out and they let out a giggle, causing his face to turn even redder. "I love you, too," They reply, oblivious to everything going on in his head at that very moment.- He's silent for another minute, eyes averted from them and his body still unable to keep still. But he's gotten this far. He's got to keep going. For the both of them.- "S/O, I... I didn't know there was anything... any chance in this world that I would be loved as much as you love me, l-let alone be alive today..." Tears are threatening to streak down his face, but he sniffles and lets it come out as snot.- "I didn't think much of myself. Not ever in my life. It wasn't till you came into my life that I started to realize... M-My life meant more than just getting revenge on my father, more than being worth something to a world that didn't cared regardless, more than just- m-more than just a waste of space..."- "It was you who made me realize what I wanted. I... I wanted to live. I wanted something beyond my revenge, beyond my days as the high school detective prince. I-It... It was scary, thinking about how my involvement with you could've made your life a living hell. How someone could harm you. How much I would hurt you if I just, one day, left without a word or.... o-or even died..."- "For once, I knew someone not only needed me but wanted me. Someone in this dark, cold world actually loved me, someone who's own parents didn't care to love or... or raise... In a world that rejected me just for being who I was, despite not asking to be the me they had so much hatred for."- He gives a short laugh and sniffles. "I'm dragging this on and on, saying things I'm sure you already know and have heard me say before. But... I wouldn't believe in any of this or myself if it wasn't for you. If you had given up on me like everyone else had, I don't think the world would have remembered me after I was gone... I would have... died without knowing my true worth..."- "S/O..." Their name from his mouth puts them further on the edge of their seat. "From the moment you saved my life and stayed at my side in the years that followed, helping me recover, helping me find myself and find happiness, I knew that I... I..." The stumbling was returning and his tremors from before returned immediately.- "I, hmm... With this life you saved, I... I...!" He squeezes their hands tighter than ever and looks them straight in the eyes.- "I want to spend it with you!" He blurts out, practically shouting at them as the tears finally started to come down. S/O's eyes widen in shock at the words but isn't sure they heard him correctly, so they stare at him, completely surprised.- He didn't care that there was an inch or two of snow on the ground, he was going to do it the traditional way. He got down on one knee before them, the snow and cold seeping into his leg and knee, stumbling at both the sudden drop in the temperture of his skin and his nerves completely controlling his body. S/O steps back, hands covering their mouth and staring at it him with water in their eyes.- "S/O..." He murmurs, his breath visible before him. He pulls out the special item from his pocket and opens it up for them to see. "Will you marry me?" Inside was the ring he bought those many months ago, shimmering in the moonlight and park lights. - S/O is beyond elated, murmured under their breath "Oh my god," several times. Tears were now pouring down their face as well, looking into Goro's deep red eyes that too watered and cried.- "Yes! A thousand-! No, a million times, yes!" They start making small jumps, kicking up a bit of snow with their boots. "Oh Goro...!"- Goro's eyes immediately go wide, more tears pouring out as a wide, joyful smile spreads across his face. He stands up and they jump into his arms, catching him by surprise and almost making the two of them fall into the snow. They squeeze him tight, wrapping their arms as much as they could around him.- They pull apart and Goro slides their glove off their hand. Their hand was cold, despite being protected from the cold with the wool of their glove. It probably wasn't very smart of Goro to choose such a cold, winter night to pop the question.- Their foreheads are basically touching as Goro removes the ring from its box, takes their hand in his, and, with a shaking hand, delicately and slowly slides the engagement ring onto their ring finger.- The two of them, still in happy tears, give an awkward yet endearing laugh as they both stare at the ring that now adorned their finger. It's a perfect fit.- Goro looks up at S/O as they cover their mouth with their other hand, trying to muffle their crying of joy, and his heart just soars.- He cannot believe it. S/O is going to be his for the rest of their life. For the rest of time.- S/O places both hands on his cheeks and pulls him in for a smooch, causing him to give a muffled gasp, followed by a chuckle as he kissed back, wrapping his arms around them and putting his hand on their back.- They stood there for a few minutes kissing, the cold no longer a bother to either of them. It was just as he wanted: Just him and S/O.- Of course, the two of them got sick days after. But that just means they can cuddle and share each other's company as they sipped soup and watched trashy crime shows.

#goro akechi #akechi #akechi goro #persona 5 #p5 #goro x s/o #imagine #mod blake #request #scenario #Anonymous

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shadowtarot · 5 years

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(Thieves in Inaba) Well Yu is safe, but what about the others? Wasn't Akechi fighting some new person?

Thieves in Inaba Part 47

Back deep within the watery caves of the castle sewers, Goro Akechi is fending off a Reaper and its master. The area is so dark, the teen can’t make much of the other persons appearance. A dark laugh erupts from them.

“You are the one my partner wished me to capture? A shame, I figured you would be stronger.” His tone is unhinged, like a maddened jester. “The darkness is my home, and you are out of your element.”

Akechi laughs. “Is that so? Well then, how about I shed some light? ROBIN HOOD!”

He summons his Bless caster and manages to illuminate the sewers for a bit. While the reaper looks…well like a reaper, his other opponent is now clearly seen.

Completely monochrome in appearance with a suit that seems more fitting for the fairly wealthy, his foe is seen. He wears a mask, of the more by the books fashion but with no eye holes, just painted on lines that resemble eyes in a crude yet disturbing fashion. The masked man lets out a laugh, fitting that of the mask he dons. “You seem fearful, human. As you should be. I am the Stalker among the Stars, god of a thousand faces, I am-”

“Nyarlathotep….my suspicions were true then….”

The gun in the suited man’s hand changes into a sword. “Smart. You impress me Princeling. But do not think my partner is the only one who can curse you. All of us have the means of doing so…” He lets out another unhinged laugh.

The light fades, casting the sewers in darkness once more. Akechi now has a better idea of what he was facing. But no idea of how to get out of it…

Within the Mirror room with Ann, she’s still mulling over the hint in Latin. “Geez, Latin is the route for a lot of languages right? Then why can’t I figure out what to do?”

Suddenly, the sounds of someone running into the room approach. Closer and closer, picking up speed. It’s accompanied by screaming. “SHIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIT!”

Dashing into the room proper and closing the door is non other than Ryuji. “Freaking…skeleton…shadows. How can they even run that fast without mussels?!”

“Geez…” Ann face palms and shakes her head. “Well I’d rather it be you then a shadow.”

Skull takes a chance to look around the room and notices the placard. “Eh? What is this…? Spanish?”

“Latin.”

“Ahhhh….well I have no ‘effing clue what it says either way.” Ryuji shrugs. “Is it like…the key to breaking outta this room?”

Ann nods. “Yeah, it should be. But since I’m rusty on Latin I have no clue what I’m supposed to do?”

“Have you tried brute forcing it?” The bleached blond suggests.

“Eh? What do you-” But before she can ask, Ryuji slams his steel pipe on the placard, causing it and the whole portion of wall it was on to give way. Behind it sits a key.

“Ha! It worked! Screw puzzles am I right?” Ryuji looks extremely proud of himself, grinning from ear to ear like a little kid.

“Well…I guess if it works it works?” With that, Ann goes to grab the key…only to notice it’s attached to red chains. Very…familiar…red chains…

“Oh Shit! Don’t tell me…is that a ‘effing Reaper?!”

The whole section of wall is destroyed, revealing the Reaper in full. It goes to attack Ann but with swift thinking, Ryuji tackles her to the ground and takes the hit straight to the back.

“AGH!” He winces. “You okay?”

“Y-Yeah. Now let’s kick this thing’s ass! We have it out numbered two to one!” They both smirk and start their fight.

In Ren’s room, the Phantom has also found himself coming face to face with a Reaper. Close to nearly passing out due the constant stream of shadows he had to fight, he can’t do much more than dodge his attacks.

“Damnit…I should have…packed Soma….” He states, barely dodging gunfire.

But then an arrow and fire shoot out from behind. Looking to it’s source, Ren sees Minato and Yukari.

“Need help, Joker?” Minato smirks. “Fighting these guys when you’re this worn is suicide. Catch.” He tosses him a Soma which Joker consumes in an instant.

“Thanks. Now care to help me take out the trash?”

All three prep for combat.

Back once more with Akechi, he’s barely dodging sword strikes from Nyarlathotep, and if it’s not that he’s being shot by the Reaper. Frustrated, Akechi tries once more to try to take control of a shadow…only to feel that pain in his chest once again.

“Hahahahaaaaa! You really think that parlor trick will work? Your heart has grown soft, Princeling. You have no means of ever returning to that peek!”

“Tch..” Akechi sighs.

“My Reapers are hunting each and every member of your little band as we speak. It won’t be long before all of them fall under my partner’s spell. I suggest you concede before you embarrass yourself anymore.”

“Reapers….if he’s controlling them…then I just need to disrupt it in some way…but how?” Goro mutters under his breath.

More and more Reapers close in on the split party, and one seems to be heading in the direction of Yu, Teddie and Yosuke. What can be done to survive this attack?

#thieves in inaba #Persona 3 #Persona 4 #persona 5 #phantom thieves #shadow operatives #investigation team #compendium

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thecorpulentbeagle · 6 years

Text

P5 Shipping Round Robin: Day 8

Please enjoy this next part of the P5 Shipping Round Robin Challenge! This is a bit of a depressing one-shot (honestly, most of the ones with Akechi will be somewhat), so take note. Don’t worry, though. Most of my stories will be happy and/or silly, but I’ve gotta try and flex my creative muscle in as many different ways as possible, right?

Here is the fanfiction.net link.

Apologies in advance.

P5 Shipping Round Robin Challenge:

Betrayal:

Haru x Goro

-Haru-

It was happening all over again.

Why was it that so many people in her life disappointed her in ways that made her feel… so betrayed? Perhaps that was why her awakening literally symbolized that devastating feeling of betrayal.

Her father had been a kind and decent man, at least, that was how he had seemed when she was younger. He disagreed with how her grandfather had ran his business, true, but her father had only wanted the best for himself and his family.

It had been over the course of years that her father’s relatively innocent drive had degraded into a corrupt desire. To put himself before anyone else was basically the family creed. No matter what the cost, no matter how many people were hurt, her father would sacrifice anything to push his own agenda.

That had been the first major blow to Haru.

The second had come in the form of her previous fiancé. Sugimura had seemed… normal at first. Intelligent and polite, and eager to marry her. Sure, she hadn’t been too thrilled at the idea of being married the minute she was a legal adult, but if it could help out her father, maybe even change him back to the way that he had been, then it would be worth it. Besides, she could do a lot worse than Sugimura.

How wrong she had been.

When it had become established that the marriage was happening, Sugimura became much more… aggressive in his intentions towards Haru. That was when he began fighting with her more, threatening her more, and hurting her in a variety of ways, be it physical or emotional. Yet again, another important person in her life had betrayed her in the deepest and most painful of ways.

But then, she had found someone else, someone who she could truly say she cared about.

Goro Akechi.

The prince detective was smart and kind, and he could sympathize with her in a way that many others couldn’t. They both had mothers who had died when they were young, and fathers whom they disliked. Whereas Haru was more hurt and disappointed with her father, Akechi seemed to have… genuine rage. Whenever the subject of his father was mentioned, his face would lose its usual calm demeanor, and his eyes would cloud over in a way that made him look dead. It was clear that Akechi felt nothing but revulsion and hatred towards the man. Haru wondered who it could possibly be, but she never felt comfortable asking him.

Other than that, the two would get along relatively well. They spent the rare times that they were not at school, working, or raiding palaces going to a variety of places. They would go to art galleries, where Haru would list critiques while nodding her head at what Akechi had to offer.

They would travel to various fine dining establishments, tasting a variety of dishes, and even sharing one or two if they were particularly delectable. Haru had laughed at how Akechi’s eyes had lit up upon seeing and tasting high-quality sushi, saying that Sae would only ever buy him conveyor belt pieces.

She knew that there was something suspicious about him, but she figured that maybe the Phantom Thieves could convince him to join their cause for real. That he would see that what they were doing was just, and that they could work together to bring justice to their corrupt society.

But then, she had learned the truth. How Akechi had been the one to gun down her father’s cognition, which ultimately led to his mental shutdown and death.

It had horrified her. It had disgusted her. But the first thought in her head had been… not again.

She thought she had found someone that could truly understand her situation, someone who could share life’s burdens with her. She thought Akechi could be reformed, and that they could maybe even start a relationship together. All of the times they had spent together made Haru realize that they were very compatible, but when this piece of information had come to light, it was like a bomb went off in her heart.

Now, instead of a burning passion, all she felt was emptiness. All that was left of her feelings were ashes that would be cool to the touch.

And, deep down inside, Haru was hurt. She didn’t want to believe that Akechi of all people could betray her in this way.

But it was confusing. She had disliked everything that her father had been doing. He had abused so many people, and was even willing to sell off his own daughter just to make a name for himself.

When the Phantom Thieves had changed his heart, she realized that what had gone wrong so many years ago would finally be undone. They could finally be a real family again. Sure, there would be struggles along the way, as her father had admitted to committing a slew of workplace safety regulations, but they would get through it together.

But Akechi had taken that chance away from her. He had stolen her father from her. And that was unforgivable.

She wanted to be able to forgive him, but she knew that she couldn’t. Any time she would look at him, or talk with him, or even kiss him, she would be doing so with the boy who had killed her father. Even if it was an order from a truly despicable human being, he had followed through nonetheless.

Maybe if they had found him earlier. Maybe if they had convinced Akechi to join their cause sooner, this wouldn’t have happened. But reality was harsh. Akechi had murdered her father, and that was the truth.

So Haru let him go.

She stood against him with the other Phantom Thieves, who were shocked and disappointed as well. She let Akechi know that she understood why he did what he did, but that she could never forgive him.

She felt her heart throb painfully at this proclamation, because it disagreed with her brain. Her heart wanted to forgive and love Akechi, help him overcome and make up for what he had done. Her brain, however, knew that there would be no way to do this. He was no longer the person that she had thought he was.

And so, with tears in her eyes, she told him these things. And she told herself that she didn’t see her tears reflected in his own eyes.

Tears of hurt… tears of regret… tears of betrayal.

They were tears that the two had shed plenty of in their lives.

Pretty sad and depressing, I know. I realize that many people justify Goro’s actions, saying that Haru really hated her father (or believed that her actual father was long gone) and that this was ultimately for the better – and those justifications are perfectly fine! But for me, I find it hard to believe that Haru would ever forgive Goro for something like that – she pretty much says something in-game along the lines of “I can understand why you did it, but I can’t forgive you.”

So it’s unfortunate, because Goro is a tragic character, but some of the things he did are unforgivable to the Phantom Thieves, and I knew that I wouldn’t be able to write a proper happy story with those thoughts in the back of my mind. Totally fine if you think I’m being too harsh, but hopefully, you still enjoyed even though it was sad. Don’t worry – tomorrow’s will be funny, so see you then!

#p5 #persona 5 #p5roundrobin #haru okumura #goro akechi #goharu #haru x goro #goro x haru #haru x akechi #akechi x haru

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badlydrawndrawnings · 5 years

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Rewriting Goro

While Trying to Incorporate the Canon Parts (because I been wondering how the game could have kept Goro as in Canon while fixing the character/whole thing better).

Goro doesn’t think of his ‘didn’t think this plan out well’ plan of working with Shido in order to take him down and inadvertently becoming a supernatural hitman. Goro didn’t plan on killing him in canon, so it’s the same here. Since no one is taking down Shido and all the others rotten people, he’s going to do it. Goro still decides to become a teen detective. I headcanon Shido gave Goro some help with some influence and connections (Goro couldn’t get that famous with just faking a few cases + real work at times), and since Goro isn’t working with Shido in this rewrite, Goro is just a plain wannabe teen detective. However, he isn’t that bad, and while not on the levels of Naoto, he gets a new nickname different from canon: The Black and White Detective of the Law.

Goro sees the world as black and white: those that are guilty criminals, and the innocent people hurt by them. Goro is set on getting the guilty no matter wait. At the beginning, Goro arrest real criminals that escape their crimes. However, in some cases, Goro make a few known criminals psychotic, as the law fail to put them behind bars the first time around, meaning the second time is a 100% guarantee (arrest for new crimes people). Goro keeps an eye on Shido, who is slowly gaining power and influence. Eventually, Goro learns of Wakaba Isshiki, and due to a terrible mistake, is under the idea she’s willingly working with Shido (quite the opposite though, as she’s trying to stop him from getting her research). While trying to get her to be psychotic, Goro inadvertently injures Shadow!Wakaba, causing a much late mental shutdown. Ergo, Wakaba’s death still happen, and Goro has no idea he’s related to it.

Now, Shido been keeping an eye on rivals and allies, and he learns of Goro’s existence after Wakaba’s sudden death (Shido added the note for the sake of it). Shido has no idea Goro is his kid until some investigation, and he realize there’s no way he can get Goro to work with him. Not voluntary of course. Being the smart man that he is, Shido, with lots of help to make sure it won’t be trace back to himself, gets Goro to do his dirty work. Goro now takes down associates of criminals, believing them to be guilty, not knowing half the people he arrests are framed by Shido, since they’re (admitting guilty of very minor crimes) rivals/innocent people getting in the way. This is how Ohya’s partner ends up in her state: it’s in a similar way to Wakaba. Unknown to Shido, Goro manged to learn about Madarame, Kaneshiro, and Okumura, and Goro plans on taking the them all down, as they have some connection to Shido (Goro is now trying to exposure Shido the good old fashion way).

Of course, Goro’s plan get derail by the Phantom Thieves, as he plan on taking down Kamoshida. Goro doesn’t take their arrival of his world so great. 2.5 years down the drain, and they think changing their hearts will fix everything. To Goro, while the PT get the confess to their crimes, it’s not a true confession. Has it been truly justice, the criminals would be face with the reality of their crimes without any outside help to help them (Goro is totally ignoring he makes people go psychotic cuz he in denial). Goro first meets the PT in Madarame’s Palace, just when it collapses (because honestly the game did Black Mask’s threat level poorly; if you got someone like that, actually show him a few times to and maybe let them interact). Goro/Black Mask and Joker fight, and Black Mask swears he’ll take down Joker if it’s the last thing he’ll do (”I’ll won’t have some criminal trash get in the way of true Justice”, something like that). Now the PT is out looking for the Black Mask. With this rivalry/hatred in the Metaverse, Goro and the Phantom Thieves in the real world get along great...kind of.

Goro befriended Joker after learning about Shido’s drunken night and the ‘attack’ of the teenage delinquent (Goro sees Joker as innocent as mention above). Goro finds him at Cafe LeBlanc, and Joker starts the Confidant/Co-Op earlier. At this point, no one know Goro’s reputation, so the rest of the PT at this point (Ryuji and Anne, granted she does say Goro is familiar), are okay. It’s only after Madareme’s change of heart does it change at the TV Station. Goro calls them criminals, stating what they’re doing is wrong. It sours things, but Joker is still dead set on being Goro’s friend because he think Goro can change his black and white views. The rest of the PT (even those that join later) go ‘FINE”, and they use Goro as a mean to learn info about the problems of the police. In this world, Goro is just working with just the police, having no relationship with Sae (he knows of her, but they never talk as he’s at the bottom of the ladder). As such, Makoto’s issue/joining is still the same, sans Goro (Goro doesn’t know Sae, so he can’t really say much to Makoto).

It’s after Futaba’s Palace does the PT suspect Black Mask involved in Wakaba’s death. However, they know Black Mask isn’t working with the Conspiracy, as Shadow!Madarame and Shadow!Kaneshiro assumed the PT were allies with him. Thinking back to what he said about “Justice”, they realize the Black Mask’s justice became so skewered, he may have help caused Wakaba’s death, allowing the Conspiracy to play him. Maybe. Everyone is split. They don’t know if they’re being play, if their original assumption is right, or they should just ignore him because he’s actually not their priority at the moment since they haven’t seen or heard any trace of him in a while (they assumed he backed off). The fight of Ryuji and Morgana is more about what they’re going to do with Black Mask, as those two have the biggest different views: Ryuji and rest of PT are on team ignore him and Morgana on team being play. With being ‘abandon’ and his feeling less useful since no one is taking his word, Morgana leaves, trying to prove them wrong (so canon stuff here) in both ways.

Things go out of hand when it’s time to change Okumura’s Change of Heart, both the real and Metaverse world. In the real world, Goro confronts the PT earlier, showing the photo of them entering Okumura’s Palace. He’s upset with all of them, especially Joker, calling them out for befriending him just to get intel, and he runs away, ignoring Joker’s call. They’re scared that Goro, in his anger and ‘betrayal’ (from Goro’s POV), will turn the photo in. However, they still have to worry about Okumura, so they’re extra cautious if Goro accidentally turns them in on the day of the change of heart. While it goes as plan, the PT are soon met with the Black Mask, trying to make Okumura go psychotic. They have a brief fight, ending with Black Mask getting shot by one of the PT (I say Haru, grabbing Makoto’s gun to save her father), and Black Mask shoots Shadow!Okumura, killing him. Everyone FREAK OUT, including Black Mask. As the PT run away, Black Mask lingering behind, realizing what he had done.

So the PT is now worried about Goro turning them in, the Black Mask wanting to get them for shooting him, and the fact Black Mask did something that could affect the change of heart process. Like Canon, Okumura dies, and they figure the Black Mask has no idea this was even a thing (remember, everyone freaked out). They almost get hearts attacks when Goro meets them at the school festival, telling them he won’t turn them in..if they can prove him wrong. At the cafe, at the proper meeting, Goro tells them about how he be investigation a politician, and that he may be behind everything going on for the last few years, telling them there’s word of Sae being in his pocket, unwittingly at least. If they get a change of heart on Sae, he’ll deleted the photo,and he’ll give the name of the politician so they can change his heart. As they bring up the Black Mask, Goro tells them he saw them, and that he certain the person had no idea shooting Shadow!Okumura would lead to his death, and swears he’ll capture the criminal, turning him in when they save Sae.

Everyone does learn Goro is going to betray them to the Police (not the Conspiracy; they know he has a beef with it, especially with the politician leader. Their theories are wacky, with Ryuji having the wackiest of all: Goro is related to the guy) so he can reclaim his title (everyone see how ironic it is). So the plan is alter a bit: Get Sae’s Palace to sneak out the real Joker, distracting everyone with a fake (and Sae to be their ally). Also, the PT is bit nicer here canon since Goro isn’t trying to kill Joker, but it’s still an act. Joker is upset by this because he thinks he can get Goro to spot what’s he doing and let him (and the others) go free. On the day of the canon heist, they start things off as plan, but unknown to them, Shido deep’s pocket are with the police, and they plan on framing Goro for murdering Joker. However, luck is on the PT and Goro’s side...sort of. The PT are fed lies that Goro, aka Black Mask is working with the Conspiracy, and that he killed Joker, so everyone is angry at Goro for his ‘hypocrisy’. In truth, Goro manged to catch wind of the PT plan, and rescued Joker from getting a headshot, and the two have a heart to heart chat. Goro is upset this is the second time they the PT lied to him. Joker brings up how Goro did set a trap though, and Goro explain he was hoping to convince Sae to get Joker a light sentence, as Goro was going to give up all the info he has of the Conspiracy as well so the two can go to jail together in a rewritten rank eight:

Goro tells Joker about being Black Mask, how the Conspiracy -before it even became it- ruined his life, and the guilt for getting played by Conspiracy into killing, hurting,and arresting innocent people. He tells Joker to get the PT stand down. At this point, the news break out Joker is dead, so Goro suspects he’s being frame. Goro wants to take down the Conspiracy by himself, saying the PT brand of justice isn’t going to work in this case. So they part ways, and everyone is shock to see Joker alive. As Joker tells them what Goro told him, the mood is a bit sour, since they still think Goro is playing them. However, since their leader is alive, it’s a real 50/50 split. Excluding Joker, Anne, Yusuke, and Haru -she truly thinks now it was in accident, like Wakaba- believe Goro. Makoto, Morgana, and Futaba for not believing -she angry for what happened in her life after her mother’s death anf don’t believe it. Ryuji of all people is in the middle, as while he hates Goro, the story they hear doesn’t make too much so...if anything, he wants to hear it from Goro himself. Everyone can agree to take Shido’s heart (they figure it out) before Goro does his plan...whatever it is.

Everything follow canon, with a few differences. The Cleaner is more of Shido’s second hand here, and he doesn’t back down easy as the PT get the letters. He does a bad number on the PT, and they barely won. To make things worse, while trying to escape. they run into Goro . He complains to Joker for not telling the PT to stand down, since they’re going to ruin everything, and that he’s going to turn them in. The not believing Goro team call him out for ‘working’ with Shido and that he should turn himself in. Goro is upset at this accusation, telling everyone how he can he work for such a scumbag of a father. So everyone is going ‘wtf’, and Goro tells them how he’s the bastard child of Shido, and how he ruined his family life to where his mom killed herself (Ryuji feels vindicated).

Everyone is now more or less on the same team, and they try to get Goro to rejoin the team to change Shido’s heart, since they didn’t actually kept their word to Goro. If they do that, Goro turns himself for the things he did as Black Mask. Goro doesn’t want too. Since at this point his black and white view is turning grey, he’s was hoping to maybe cling onto whatever he has left of his reputation. He doesn’t want to give into society’s view of his status of a bastard criminal, and they fight. The PT win the first time, and they try to get Goro to change his mind still, bringing up all of their misfortunes on how society tries to paint them the wrong way too. They’ll say they are willing to stand by his side, knowing how he was with no one for a long time It almost works, but Loki convinces Goro that it’s another trick like all the others, decides to summons Loki and becomes Black Mask, finally ‘accepting’ who he truly is.

Of course the PT beat his ass, and they still try to get Goro to rejoin them. Back to his senses, Goro does agrees, though he doesn’t look too convince it’s going to work out easy. As they all start to leave, freaking Cleaner comes back, with reinforcement. Goro, being the closest, tries to pull the stunt he does in canon (doesn’t help the Cleaner is actually targeting Goro) but the PT decide to help and they escape back to the real world. Goro is grateful and thanks them...and also ask for them to call Sae. He realize he’s more useful as a witness than taking down Shido, and that a change of heart, Shido will have supporters/allies to keep his plan up. So Goro is secretly arrested by the police, and he gives up all the information he has of Shido and the Conspiracy.

So Goro is out, leaving the boss fight as it is with Shido. As the PT confronts Shadow!Shido after finally defeating him, telling them about how Goro is his own son, and that how it’s his own flesh and blood that’s going to help take him down. As the Palace does his collapse, Shadow!Shido gets the last laugh, telling them that Goro is already dead the second he turned himself in, and that they’ll be joining him soon (cue cutscene of Goro getting a visitor). The PT escape the Palace (no one beats on Ryuji since everyone has important things to worry about, and it’s Ryuji who brings up after they meet up again). They contact Sae, and she’s upset, as it turns out Goro ‘killed’ himself, but all signs points to a murder. However, since Goro’s evidence he collect is still good, they can use it in Shido’s trial (it sucks that there’s no witness though to back the evidence up). Goro did left something behind for Joker, ranking up the Confidant/Co-op from the dead (idk the item. Thinking cuff links or the tie).

So everyone mourns Goro, and get the shock of their live when Shido admits to his crimes...including Goro, telling the world about his son and how manipulated from afar. So the PT has some hope justice will be done, but of course, there’s still the issue with Mementos and Yabadadoo. Speaking of which, learning the truth of that gets a stronger reaction, as everyone is upset Joker and Goro (and in some ways, everyone else), were pawns. For Goro, they realize he died believing everything will turn out fine (when it isn’t). Everything is the same as canon, and Joker turns himself in, more for Goro since died almost for nothing. And like canon, Joker gets out. Everything ends the same way like the game.

It’s honestly not the best rewrite, and the tweaks of the Confidant/Co-Op make no sense at times. However, Goro’s character is still the ‘same’ like canon, being the traitor while getting his story flesh out to be believable and make him more understandable. And he gets a solid conclusion. It’s not a great one, but it’s better than the AWOL Schrodinger Cat situation the game did.

#persona 5 #goro akechi #akechi goro #this is a text post #character rewrite #plot rewrite

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