#she really has four goro arms | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

swimyghost · 3 years

Text

Uniforms

This is a Lupin III High School AU that no one asked for but me and some friends made anyway. This AU will include OCs they haven’t made an appearance just yet. Also this high school is a blend of American and Japanese high schools since I’m, unfortunately, more familiar with an American setting. I hope you enjoy.

---

The ICPO Academy’s name was a joke. Not to say the academy itself was a disgrace to the name of education seeing as the school produced several graduates that went on to become lawyers or doctors or more artistic jobs such as famous actors or architects. ICPO Academy was well known for its reputation as the hub for international learning and cultural acceptance, having the school built in Japan but accepting students from everywhere. Many would question why someone would call the academy’s name a joke with high test scores, amazingly well-funded athletic and arts programs, and a spotless background all being well-known facts.

ICPO: International Criminal Police Organization. The name was outdated and, as mentioned before, a joke, especially to the students who attended the school. The once militaristic educational institution was originally assembled by the Japanese government as a way to train the most elite future members of the police force; the international part only added later once other countries noticed how well the Alta maters excelled in their field. Time, however, was an ever-flowing river and soon more programs such as the arts were added to the school. The need for highly trained police officers was in little demand and the school’s talents for training the best were need elsewhere. The name never changed due to stubborn tradition, also due to the idea of the students needing to “remember their roots”.

Horrible naming aside, the school was strict with everything, from grades to clubs to sports, including school uniforms. That was how three students ended up in the principal’s office one early morning.

“Arsène Lupin, Daisuke Jigen, and Goemon Ishikawa,” the principal, a heavily balding middle-aged man, sighed. He looked like he hadn’t received any proper sleep in weeks. “You three realize the school year only started a month ago and yet you consistently end up here.”

“Sir, I think you are missing the point!” a tall dark-haired man shouted. He stepped forward, shoving aside the three students. The red armband on his left arm was labeled “Head Hall Monitor”. “These three have broken one of the school’s rules, one which is mentioned on the first page of the school handbook so they clearly know what they are doing!”

One of the students, a sophomore with a cocky grin and an even cockier look in his dark brown eyes, laughed. “Pops, you should know I never read any of those dumb manuals!”

“It’s paramount that you read the handbook! And quit referring to me by that ridiculous nickname!”

“Whatever you say, Pops.”

“Mr. Lupin, Mr. Zenigata, I order you to stop this nonsense!” the principal shouted over the arguing pair. “Mr. Lupin, despite you lacking in understanding the school’s policies, you are a sophomore, you should already know that wearing the school’s uniform is a requirement, that goes for you too Mr. Goemon, and especially you Mr. Daisuke, you’re a junior, for Pete’s sake!”

“Jigen.” a gruff-sounding teen muttered. Shaggy black hair covered the teen’s eyes. Unlike the well-dressed (although still against the rules) Lupin, Jigen chose to wear baggy clothes such as a worn hoodie and ripped jeans instead of his uniform.

“Fine, Jigen,” the man said with an exasperated sigh. “Look, I’m going to cut to the chase since you already know what’s going to happen. I’m going to have the front desk call your parents so they can drop off your uniforms. Mr. Lupin, Mr. Jigen, you’ll be sent to detention for today and tomorrow and will have to use half of your lunch period cleaning the school along with the regular cleaning hours. Mr. Ishikawa, you will have the same punishment except you won’t have detention.”

“What!?” Zenigata cried.

“Is there a problem, Mr. Zenigata?”

“Sir, forgive me for my insolence, but I think this is highly unfair,” Zenigata turned his gaze to the last of the trio, a blue hakama-wearing boy with long but slightly uneven cut hair. “Goemon here is equally as guilty as the rest of them! Therefore, he deserves the same punishment!”

The principal let out a long groan. “I wish I could, Mr. Zenigata. Unfortunately, Mr. Ishikawa is a part of our Judo Team and we’re about to have a match against Cagliostro Academy so-”

“So it’s favoritism!” Zenigata bellowed, slamming his hands on the principal’s desk.

“It’s not favoritism, it’s about securing our school’s reputation! Besides, Mr. Ishikawa isn’t a criminal for refusing to wear the proper garb.” the principal nonchalantly waved his hand.

“We will become one if you don’t punish him accordingly!”

“Do not insult the Ishikawa name like you, you bumbling gorilla.” Goemon spat, keeping a cold expression on his face.

“What did you say!?”

“ENOUGH!”

The room went deathly quiet. The principal, who was suddenly standing tall with an enraged expression on his face. He glared at the four students with a newfound fire in his dark eyes.

“Mr. Zenigata, this is not up for discussion. If you have a problem, take it up with someone else!”

Zenigata looked like he was going to blow up due to how red his face was. Lupin was frightened, but he kept a small grin on his face. The other two were suddenly extremely interested in the wall.

“Now, all of you, out of my office. I have important work to do.”

Zenigata took several deep breaths before replying. “Alright, sir. I shall take these troublemakers to the front desk to make sure they don’t try to run away.”

“That won’t be necessary, Mr-”

It was too late as Zenigata swiftly herded the group outside of the office, slamming the door behind him.

The trio shuffled down the hall with only Zenigata walking with a powerful stride. The halls were silent with only the muffled chatter of teacher’s going over their lessons breaking that silence. Posters advertising out of school and in school were taped on walls or pinned to one of the many corkboards that lined the walls. Freshly cleaned windows allowed light to enter in. Jigen grunted as a line of sunlight pierced through his thick locks and entered his eyes. Lupin leaned over Zenigata’s shoulder and smiled.

“The head really chewed you out, huh?”

“Quiet, you scum!” Zenigata snarled, glaring back at the shorter man.

“Wooooooow, is that how all upperclassmen speak to their juniors? I thought we were starting to become friends.”

Zenigata scoffed. “You are not one of my equals, neither as a student or a member of society.”

“Really?” Lupin said with fake surprise dripping from his words.

The senior stopped, leading the rest of the group to follow suit. “I know who you are, Lupin, and I know what your family is.”

“You do?” Lupin glanced over at his companions, who kept measured expressions on their faces, then back at the older student. “What is my family, Koichi Zenigata?”

“A bunch of liars and thieves,” Zenigata said with an icy chill.

The stillness held nothing but tension. Jigen and Goemon silently moved to Lupin’s side. One a slight glimmer of Jigen’s eyes could be seen through the curtain known as his hair; meanwhile, Goemon’s eyes were studying the situation, ready to strike if necessary. Zenigata stood tall with his dark blue and white suit barely hiding the muscles bulging through the cloth. Time ticked away until Lupin broke out into laughter.

“Never knew you hated me that much, Pops!” Lupin patted his shoulder, causing Zenigata to flinch. “C’mon, let’s not fight. Especially since it won’t be a fair fight since your little buddy isn’t here and your reputation would be hurt more than mine.”

“Little… Buddy?” Zenigata looked confused, both due to Lupin’s actions and at the nickname he gave to this unknown person.

“What was his name… Goro! Goro Yatagarasu! That poor boy follows you are like a puppy.” Lupin said.

“Do not insult him like that! Yata is a good student and a better person than you’ll ever be.”

“You’re starting to sound like his boyfriend, Pops,” Jigen spoke up, enunciating the word ‘Pops’.

“Wha- Yata is a freshman and a minor!”

“That hasn’t stopped seniors before,” Jigen muttered.

Goemon stepped between them with his hands raised. “You wanna get in more trouble?”

Jigen grunted and turned his head away. Zenigata just glared at the trio before starting back on his quest to the front desk. Lupin just pretended to wipe the dust off his crisp white dress shirt and followed the upperclassman with his friends following close behind.

The rest of the walk was uneventful since Lupin stopped trying to press his senior’s buttons. Jigen was more interested in his old sneakers than a conversation with Goemon adopting a similar attitude. Once they reached the open front lobby, Zenigata turned his gaze to the lady who sat behind the circular front desk. Her hair was tied up in a lazy bun with her glasses hanging close to the end of her nose. She looked as interested in her computer work as the principal had looked. She lifted her gaze when Zenigata cleared his throat.

“Can I help you?” her tone was low and bored.

“Yes, these three have broken school rules by deciding to not wear their uniform! I assume the principal has alerted you about the situation?”

“He has.” the receptionist said.

“Then I believe you need to-”

“I’ve already contacted their parents, Mr. Zenigata.” the lady cut off Zenigata with a pointed stare.

“Um, uh, yes,” Zenigata cleared his throat, more awkwardly this time. “W-Well I assume you have the situation handled then?”

“I do.”

“Great! I need to return to class! Please make sure they don’t try anything suspicious.”

“I will, Mr. Zenigata.”

Zenigata bowed before turning to look back at the trio. Lupin stuck out his tongue with a goofy smile plastered on his face. The senior frowned deeply then took off towards an adjacent hallway. The group looked at the front desk lady who already went back to typing away at her computer.

“Wait by the benches over there.” she pointed at the set of benches that were poised by the front doors made entirely of glass.

“Thank you, ma’am!” Lupin replied in a cheery tone with a wink. The woman just made a noncommittal hum of acknowledgment. Lupin, Jigen, and Goemon all sauntered over to the benches and sat with Lupin in the middle and Jigen and Goemon sitting at the far left and right respectfully. Goemon closed his eyes and lowered his head in mediation with Jigen scratched at his kangaroo pocket. Lupin noticed his not-so-subtle scratching.

“You need to smoke already?” the sophomore whispered.

“Nah,” Jigen replied in a matching soft voice. “Just need to know they’re there. Get anxious if they’re not.”

“That’s a sign of addiction, my scruffy friend.”

Jigen scowled. “Like you’re any better.”

“I can handle being away from cigarettes for a few days, you cannot,” Lupin pointed out. “I’ve even seen you smoke bent ones!”

“A smoke is a smoke.” the junior shrugged.

“Both of you have bad habits.” Goemon chipped in at the same time side-eyeing the pair.

“Like you’re any better. You even said that cigarette you had felt nice!” Lupin countered.

Goemon looked down. He enjoyed the feeling that one cigarette gave him but he’d never admit it, especially since it would most likely lead to his athletic career being cut short.

Lupin turned his attention back to the older of the three. “Is your mom or dad gonna drop off your outfit.”

“Doubt it,” Jigen snorted. “Ma started taking double shifts to make up for all the new books I had to buy.”

The leader of the group stared at Jigen for a few moments before pulling out his cellphone. He tapped away before raising the phone to his ear.

“Hey, dad? Yeah, it’s me, did you leave already? No? Good!” Lupin said. “Listen, along with my uniform, can you get the bigger one that’s in the drawer next to all my other ones? Thank you!”

“No using any electronic distractions during class periods.” the front desk lady said, still not looking up from her computer.

“Got it, ma’am!” Lupin replied, saying a quick goodbye to his father before preceding to smile at Jigen. Jigen knew something was up.

“What did you do?”

“Called my old man, of course,” Lupin said.

“No duh, but I know what your family… Does. I need to know if you didn’t just secretly hire a hit or something.”

“Do you really think that lowly of me, Jigen?” Lupin pretended to look hurt.

“I think you can do some nasty shit if you felt like it,”

“He’s got you there, Lupin,” Goemon added.

“You both are so cruel!” Lupin dramatically placed a hand on his chest. “All I did was ask my father to bring a junior uniform and you’re accusing me of murder!”

“Junior uniform, why would you-” realization hit Jigen. “You bought one… For me?”

“You’re my best friend, you wheezy chimney,” Lupin let out his signature grin. “Someone’s gotta pick you up when you’re down.”

Jigen stared deeply at Lupin before making a tsk sound and whipping his head towards the window. Lupin just chuckled and leaned backward.

Suddenly, the bell rang throughout the school. Students immediately started to flood both the hallway and the front of the school. Couples were walking with their arms linked while others congregated in large groups, laughing about the latest episodes of their favorite shows or lamenting failing a test. Lupin watched them walk by as if he were looking for-

“Hey, Fujicakes!”

Jigen and Goemon both groaned as a long-haired brunette with highlights sashayed over towards them. She wore the standard dark blue, gray, and white uniform but it was clearly altered in some minor but still noticeable ways. The shirt was smaller than it needed to be and the skirt was shorter. Black tights completed the outfit. The freshman carried books and a binder in one hand and a phone with a fake diamond keychain in the other. She stopped only a foot away from the trio before glancing up and down.

“Was dressing like clowns really necessary?”

Jigen and Goemon’s preexisting frown deepened but Lupin gave her a hurt puppy-dog look. “That hurt Fujiko. The real clown outfits are those gaudy uniforms they make us wear. Not you, though. You look fantastic in anything you wear.”

Fujiko giggled, causing Jigen and Goemon to roll their eyes. Fujiko stopped with a sigh. “In any case, I’m guessing you three are in detention.”

“I actually got-”

“And I’m hoping you’ll be there with me,” Lupin said, interrupting Goemon.

“Are you kidding me?” Fujiko said with a snort. “I have cheer practice. I don’t have time to waste with someone like you.”

“Fujicakes,” Lupin said with false hurt.

“I gotta go, Lupin, maybe I’ll see you later when you’re done making a fool of yourself.”

Fujiko walked away with a purposeful stride, leaving Lupin wanting more of her and the other two wanting less. As the crowd began to grow smaller, Jigen glared at his friend.

“How can you stand that girl?”

“Perhaps Fujiko is right about one thing,” Goemon looked down at the still swooning Lupin, “you are a fool.”

“She may be made of ice, but like all ice, it can be melted.” Lupin poetically answered.

“Oh, please,” Jigen grumbled.

Just as all the people left for their class, two men entered the building. One was a wealthy-looking businessman with well-kept hair and a faint beard. He wore a freshly ironed suit that almost gleamed as much as his well-polished shoes. The other was an equally well-dressed man but this time in more traditional Japanese garbs and sandals. His hair was much longer and had a clean-shaven face. Goemon stood up and made his way to the more traditionally dressed man, bowing once he reached him.

“Father.”

“Goemon,” he replied, thrusting the pile of neatly folded clothes he had been carrying into his son’s arms. “Do not repeat this act.”

“I won’t, Father.”

While that exchange went down, the first man eagerly went over and hugged Lupin. He held a smile that was eerily similar to the boy’s.

“Arsène! You causing micheaf again?”

“Of course, dad, why else would be here?” his son wheezed, trying to escape his bear hug.

He laughed and clasped Lupin on the back. “Aw, I don’t know, maybe you missed me that much you had the principal call me down.”

“Dad!”

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding!” Lupin’s dad chuckled. He looked at the front desk lady, who was watching the whole scene and shrugged. “Kids these days, am I right?”

The lady blinked slowly. “You need to give them their uniforms, sir.”

“Right, right, right,” the man reached into his suit and handed two bags to Lupin and Jigen. “I believe these are for you.”

“Thanks, Dad.”

“Thanks, Mr. Lupin.”

“Now, I need to leave. Business never gives you a break, I swear.” Lupin’s dad winked at the receptionist before following Goemon’s dad out of the building. Lupin let out a long sigh once he left the building.

“Your dad is certainly a character, Lupin,” Goemon commented.

“Not a word, Goemon,”

“You three go change in the bathroom. I write you a pass to your next class.” the woman at the front desk called over to them.

Lupin gave the group a smirk. “There’s still a full day ahead of us, gentlemen. Let’s not waste it.”

#lupin iii #lupin the third #lupin the 3rd #arsene lupin iii #goemon ishikawa xiii #goemon ishikawa #ishikawa goemon xiii #jigen daisuke #daisuke jigen #fujiko mine #mine fujiko #koichi zenigata #zenigata koichi #inspector zenigata #high school au #lupin iii high school au #ficlet #fanfic #fanficition

15 notes · View notes

wandering-hearts-and-a-crow · 4 years

Note

I just discovered your blog and I love every minute of it. I was hoping to put out a persona 5 request. Akechi x reader, reader gets separated from the phantom thiefs in a palace (can be any) and runs into black masked Akechi. Reader terrified for their life attempts to escape only to be hunted and chased down by him until he catches her. I'll let you decide if he does anything to the reader. I hope its an fun request. Have a good day!

“(Akechi chasing reader anon here) if you want to make it end NSFW that might also be fun. Either way have a good day!!”

ho boy this aught to be fun. I am a simp for akechi in the first place, but you just gave me an excuse to openly hate and love him simultaneously.

reader’s codename will be witch and her persona will be circe, using a fem reader for sake of anatomy and bc the gem here has referred to them as her

title: spiriting you away

pairing: yandere!akechi goro x phantom thief!fem!reader

fandom: persona 5/royal

tw: yandere, being chased/hunted, manipulation, general akechi being a creep, unwanted touching

This was not what you wanted to spend your afternoon doing. You’d just wanted to shit around in an arcade and spend it with friends. And yet, here you were, lurking behind the Phantom Thieves, ready to jump in if the support was needed. You were the farthest behind, slightly behind Skull, Oracle, Noir and Queen.

You sighed softly, adjusting your mask, before continuing to tail the four through the spaceport. Though, in a place this big and convoluted, it was easy to get lost. And you managed to do so, after roughly twenty minutes, your exhaustion from being on the front lines earlier wearing you down. You supposed waiting in the nearest safe room would be the smartest idea for the time being.

You didn’t expect, as you rose to continue making your way towards the nearest safe room, to end up coming face-to-face with a black masked stranger. Your blood ran cold, but running about recklessly would only arouse unwanted attention. You nodded in greeting, deciding to acknowledge him, then get the hell out of dodge.

You didn’t expect him to chase you afterwards, especially since you thought that doing the polite thing would encourage him to leave you be. Apparently not. It bothered you a bit, but you thought you managed to lose the black-masked stranger after darting around and taking the most confusing, indirect route you could.

You sighed and laid on your arms, resting them on the table in the safe room. All you could do was wait until someone realized you were gone, and they came looking for you. Well, that was your safest bet, anyway. You figured it wouldn’t hurt to get in a quick nap, and that it wouldn’t be a bad idea to rest up a little.

You heard the doors open and shut after a little while and lifted your head. You expected to see one of your comrades there, not the stranger from before. You huffed, and waited for him to move away from the door so you could comfortably make your exit. You didn’t expect him to suddenly seem to materialize behind you and hold you in place by your shoulders. You know he didn’t, but it was hard for anyone to move that fast.

“Just the chance I’ve been waiting for, (l/n)-san.” His voice was familiar to you, and you hated the oddly pleasant sound of it. You’d heard it many times, on your school’s grounds and on TV. You were a classmate of Yusuke’s, and tried your best to lay low outside of your work.

Akechi. Or, as you preferred to jokingly refer to him as, in private, Princey.

“And what do you want with me, Akechi-san?”

You could hear him chuckle, dangerously close to your ear.

“I’ve been observing you for a while now. You’re very... interesting, to me. You choose to be kind and empathetic, and get taken advantage of constantly for it, and are aware of it. And yet you fool around, pretending you fit in with a group of lowly thieves.”

Your blood ran cold as his hands slid down your arms and pinned your hands to the table. You could feel him breathe in the smell of your hair sharply, as if the scent were a drug he needed to inhale. He sounded so... happy to just be touching you, even in a manner that was vaguely threatening.

“I’m not pretending. They’re my friends.”

You stated this simply, praying a single one of them would come through the door to help you. Circe was a strong persona, but she burned out your energy faster than anything else. You kept your eyes open, though you wanted to wrench them shut.

“Oh my, it’s worse than I thought. You really can’t see who actually cares for you.”

Your head began to spin with confusion. You were never really the best at reading people, but... the way he said it made you question things. Especially when he said it so confidently, so calmly. It took a moment for you to register your emotions. Shock, insecurity, and then anger.

You whipped around, ready to push him off and away.

“How fucking dare you-”

As if this were the reaction he’d been hoping for, he simply laughed and hugged you tightly. You squirmed and writhed in his grasp, but he didn’t waiver.

“Time to whisk you away, my dear. Sorry, but I am not going to allow you to side with their justice.”

#yandere #yandere male #yandere blog #Yandere love #yandere akechi #yandere akechi goro #yandere akechi goro x reader #yandere akechi x reader #yandere persona #yandere persona 5 #yandere persona 5 royal #yandere crow #yandere persona 5 x reader #yandere writing #yandere writer #yandere p5 #yandere p5r #yandere oneshot

197 notes · View notes

justnerdthings · 3 years

Text

Never Again Ch.2

Female OC x Raiden/Shang Tsung (it's gonna be both)

Okay. Not much interest in the first chapter, but whatever. I like it. Shang comes in in this chapter.

“What do you mean she has been released?” Fujin asked his brother with narrowed eyes.

“She escaped the catacombs. Someone or something had destroyed them,” Raiden explained. He then sighed. “I thought she had perished, but she visited me last night.”

“She was here?” Fujin couldn’t believe what Raiden was telling him. Helena was free? This was grave news. “Have you checked in with everyone?”

Raiden nodded. “Everyone is accounted for.”

Fujin breathed a sigh of relief.

“She may not know their identities as of yet,” Raiden hoped.

“And when she does?”

Raiden took a deep breath. “Helena will use them to get what she wants.”

Fujin lifted a brow as he watched Raiden’s stoic expression. “She wants you, brother.”

Raiden’s eyes shifted to Fujin’s. He exhaled and nodded. This was a disaster. And it would only end in disaster.

“She will kill them all if it means you will give her all of eternity.” Fujin said as he stepped away and looked over the Sky Temple garden. “She threw the tournament away four-hundred years ago just to buy herself four-hundred years of you. She killed Kung Lao to make sure of it.”

Raiden’s jaw hardened. What Fujin said was true. Helena had been driven to madness with her jealousy. He just wished he’d acted sooner. Maybe it would have all been avoided. Maybe he would not have had to lock her away. But, he had needed her for the tournament. She was his second best fighter. Helena was his response to Shang Tsung. Sorcerer verses Sorceress. She evened the odds, even tilted them slightly in earthrealm’s favor. But he had forgotten what she was first…

Raiden rubbed his face as that knot of guilt twisted in his stomach again. He’d spent so much time helping Kung Lao train for his fight with Goro that he’d inadvertently neglected his love. This was all his fault. He should have never brought her into Mortal Kombat.

“We need to find her,” Raiden sighed. “Before she finds them.”

Fujin nodded. A cyclone swallowed him up as he left the garden. A crack of lightning, and Raiden had left as well.

————

Shang Tsung stood on his island, overlooking his palace. It hadn’t been used in decades. Utterly overgrown. And he... now an old man. With Shao Khan dead, he had no master to answer to and little hope of ever taking over the realms. Kotal Khan had no interest in employing the sorcerer. A shame, really. None of the realms did.

A purple glow lit up his palace’s court yard. He lifted a brow. No one was on this island except for him. Who could have caused that? Who would come here? Who could come here? Had his barrier fallen? With a snap of his armored fingers, he was transported to his court yard.

Not a soul in sight. Had he been seeing things in his old age? How annoying. He turned and walked into the palace. The place had been reclaimed by the island. It was a mess. But, nothing a little flick of his wrist couldn’t handle. The wild vines and flora slowly receded, clearing a path for him. It wasn’t long until he found himself in his own throne room. His old eyes tried to focus through the darkness.

He was being watched. Holding out a hand, a green flame lit his way as he walked towards the presence. Shang stopped in the middle of the room as he noticed the faint outline of someone sitting… on his throne. His eyes narrowed at the shadowed figure. “Who is there?” he called over, demanding an answer. “Who sits on my throne?”

A low, feminine, elegant chuckle echoed off the walls.

Shang took another step closer. The green flame in his hand grew to light up the room more. His face glew in the green flame, showing his angered annoyance, enhanced by the shadows.

“Shang Tsung…” The voice called over. “Oh, has time been cruel to you.”

The voice awakened something in Shang. The voice was familiar… but who? Enough games. He tossed his flame up. It broke apart and the smaller flames flew to several large lanterns. The room had illuminated, showing just how much plant life had moved in, and the woman in his throne.

Shang Tsung stiffened at the sight of her, but he quickly regained himself. He couldn’t show her the tension now building in his shoulders. He straightened and held his hands behind him as he made his way to her. “My dear, Helena… Has Raiden decided to let you out of your cage already?”

Her dark lips pulled into a devilish smirk. “He was just as surprised to see me as you are.”

“Oh, I doubt such a thing,” he answered, shoving his nerves deeper down, as he climbed the steps to his throne. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“This is the last place I was before being locked away… It seems only right to pick up where I left off.” She leaned back, letting her hands rest on the arms of the throne.

Shang watched her, then bowed his head slowly. She seemed quite at home on his island--on his throne. But there was no reason to fight her… yet.

“Tell me Shang Tsung,” She began, “How long has it been?”

He lifted a brow to her. “Since we last saw each other? Eight Tournaments have passed.”

“Four hundred years,” Helena calculated.

“Indeed.”

“And the current champion?”

Shang inhaled sharply, reminded of his most recent loss. “Liu Kang. One of your beloved Raiden’s fighters.”

Helena’s nails scratched along the throne’s arms, scraping off gold. Shang Tsung watched as the jagged gold ribbons fell to the floor. His eyes shifted back up to her irritated face. “Trouble in paradise, my dear?”

Her eyes cut to him. “Where can I find this Liu Kang?”

Shang’s brows rose. This was not expected. As far as he knew, Helena was still Raiden’s ally… Raiden’s answer to Shang Tsung himself. How curious. “Should you not ask your lover?”

“Raiden… My beloved… My traitorous lover…” Helena relaxed slowly. “He will not help me.”

“Why not?”

“Because he knows I will kill him just as I did with Kung Lao…”

It took Shang Tsung a moment to realize she was talking about the Great Kung Lao. “I recall Goro killing him, my dear. I think your mind has gone awry in that tomb of yours.”

“Goro may have ripped his heart out, but it was I who made it possible,” Helena corrected him. Shang’s brows knotted at her. “I poisoned Kung Lao before the fight. The man loved his wuyi tea…” She said as she leaned on her elbow, hand supporting her chin.

Shang Tsung held back his surprise. So he owed his victory that day to Helena. But why? He stepped closer, non-threatening in his demeanor, and rested an old hand on the arm of his throne to lean against it. “Your actions caused Earthrealm to lose the tournament,” he pointed out.

“Yes. Raiden and I could have had four hundred years together before having to worry about winning the tournament.”

“And how did that work out for you, my dear?” He pressed. Her eyes shot back at him with his slight against her. As sharp as her eyes were, he did not seem phased by them. He just stared at her, expecting an answer.

Helena let out a defeated sigh as she looked away from him again. “I did not count on him reacting as he did.”

“Chaining you to a wall decorated with the dead?” He asked. Her eyes flinched ever so slightly. Shang nodded. He was getting under her skin. “How did you survive down there?”

“Barely,” she answered with a frown. “I fed off the life forces of the resident rats and roaches.”

“You seem to have eaten well,” he commented, then gestured with a clawed hand to herself--her body, still young and taught in all the right places. He wouldn’t lie, she had been a beauty four hundred years ago, and she looked the same now as she sat in front of him.

She turned her eyes back to him slowly. That devilish smirk of hers returned. “That silver tongue of yours still works, I see.”

He smiled and lifted his chin in a small show of pride. “Of course.” He’d noticed the slight shifting of her eyes as she searched his withered face. Yes, it was true. Shang Tsung was now an old man, soon to meet his own tomb. “Not the face you remember, my dear?” He asked.

“No,” she answered softly and reached out to let her fingers graze his wrinkled cheek. His eyes showed surprise for only a second at the gesture. Was she not afraid of him? Did she not fear his power, even in his weakened state? No. Of course she wasn’t. She could match him in any fight… Or could have as it were. Spending so long in that crypt, she may not have had the ability to continue training. She must have been rusty, surely. Living off rats and roaches certainly would not have given her enough strength. Rodents and insects would not support such strength--such beauty. There was something she hadn’t admitted. “Has your well ran dry, Shang Tsung?” she spoke, voice reaching into his very core.

His shoulders slumped just barely, but enough for Helena to notice. She grinned to him.

#Mortal Kombat #Mortal Kombat 11 #Raiden #Lord Raiden #x oc #oc x #raiden x oc #oc x raiden #fanfic #mortal kombat fanfiction #fic #fanfictions #shang tsung #oc x shang tsung #shang tsung x oc #never again

14 notes · View notes

bucketofcowboys · 3 years

Text

Santa-Maj Is Coming To Town

Cute Christmas fluff drabble I made randomly in the early hours of the morning (as one does). Hope you enjoy!

Relationships: Kiryu Kazuma/Majima Goro, Kiryu Kazuma & Sawamura Haruka, Majima Goro & Sawamura Haruka Words: 3,995 Warnings: No warnings! Just severe fluff and Nishida abuse AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28413567

- - -

"Ojisan, did you know that a polar bear's fur is see through?" Haruka spoke up, finally tilting her head up and away from the newest puddle she had decided to attack. She decided to entertain herself as they walked back to their apartment by dipping her toes in every puddle they walked by to see how much water she can kick up without making a complete mess.

At this point, her new winter boots were sure to be soiled in, but she made sure not a single drop got on the rest of her new outerwear. She cherished the winter jacket Kiryu had bought her as soon as the cold began to hit Kamurocho. It was perfectly puffy and warm with a nice pastel pink color to it, and around the hood was faux fur that would tickle her cheeks every time she huddled up when a cold breeze blew by.

"No, I didn't know that." Kiryu hummed in response. He held her hand and their connected arms swayed as they strolled down the street. As they approached a rather large puddle in the middle of the street, he gently tugged her in front of him to balance on the narrow dry patch of land around it.

It had snowed the previous few days, which was quite rare with the usual winter temperatures of the city. Christmas Eve of course was the day that the temperature decided to heat up once again, leaving large puddles of melted snow scattering each street corner. Kiryu would have preferred a white Christmas for his first holiday celebration with Haruka, but she seemed to be just as happy with soggy socks.

"Did you know that penguins have to hold their eggs between their legs to keep them from touching the ice and freezing?" Haruka had been spouting interesting animal facts the whole way home. Kiryu didn't mind though. If there was ever a trivia night on random animal facts he would rest assured that he would win.

"I didn't know that either." Another big puddle. He pulled her in front of him again, holding her hand above her head like he was twirling a ballerina.

"Do you know any cool animal facts Ojisan?" Haruka tilted her head back to look up at him. He hummed for a moment. He never was too interested in facts-- and he never paid attention in school, so he wracked his brain for anything he could scramble up.

"Uhh... did you know that..." he looked up at the dimmed night sky and watched as his breath steamed in the air for a moment as he thought, "Did you know that an octopus has three hearts?" He finally offered. She gave him a surprised look.

"Really?" She asked.

"I heard about it somewhere. I don't know how true it is." He shrugged and scratched the side of his chin.

After a couple more minutes of leisurely strolling through late night Kamurocho, avoiding puddles and exchanging animal facts (though Haruka said most of them), their temporary, dingy apartment had finally come into view. As they approached the back alley, leading to the door another large puddle came into view, this time with no dry spots to go around on. Kiryu pulled Haruka in front of him, but this time he let go of her hand and grabbed her from under her arms. He safely picked her up and placed her at the other side of the puddle without ruining her boots and with a few giggles to go along with it. He just stepped over it semi-clumsily.

Once they were in the alleyway, something felt wrong though. He paused for a moment before moving towards the back of the building with Haruka. He couldn't understand why, but the underlying feeling of wrong itched at the back of his mind and brought goosebumps up to his skin. It was a familiar feeling at this point. By why would he be here on Christmas Eve--

"Ho ho ho!!" Kiryu tensed up at the sudden vocal intrusion of his alone time with Haruka. It seemed like the person speaking was trying to make their voice sound deeper than it is, but eventually settling on shrilling out their failed impression of Santa. Both Haruka and him turned. Kiryu wasn't even sure how he could still be surprised by the man anymore.

Behind him, standing in the puddle he and Haruka had just hurtled over, was Majima, dressed up in an ill-fitting dollar store Santa costume that sagged way too much around the belly area, included with a scratchy looking synthetic white beard and a stained Santa hat that looked like it had seen better days. His eyepatch also seemed to have been customized to have a snowflake design on it, but upon further inspection, it was clear to see that he had just hot glued a snowflake decoration to his usual eyepatch.

"Majima no-nii san--" Kiryu started, But Majima quickly interjected.

"Ah ah ah!! Not Majima," He scolded, "Santa Majima." He quickly corrected, gesturing towards his outfit.

"Santa Majima," Kiryu corrected, not liking the feel of that name on his tongue, but it earned him a pleased smile from the man in front of him, "What are you doing here?"

"Me? Oh, I just came to wish the lil' tyke merry Christmas." He kneeled down and smiled over at Haruka. Ever since Majima kidnapped her all that time ago, she had been a bit wary of the man. But after the shift of Majima hanging out around Kiryu more often without looking for a fight, she had grown much more used to him. Kiryu would even say that she liked him. "Merry Christmas Haru-Chan!"

"Merry Christmas Majima-Ojisan." She giggled from Kiryu’s side. Santa Mahima frowned.

"No, not Majima. Santa Majima!" He corrected with a pointed stroke of the synthetic beard. Kiryu flinched at the prospect of how much it must itch.

"Majima-Ojisan I know that's you--"

"Haw? Who's Majima? Wait are ya talking about that Majima? Goro Majima? That one-eyed freak is at the top of the naughty list ya'know!" Kiryu tsked at the loving nickname he gave himself, "You shouldn't fraternize with people on the naughty list Haru-Chan. It can ruin yer rep."

"Majima-Ojisan isn't on the naughty list! No way!" She quickly defended.

"I dunno kid-- the stuff he does seems like naughty list material to me." Haruka quickly shook her head.

"No! He may act all tough and fight a lot, but he's a super sweet person when you get to know him!" Haruka said with such confidence that it was almost as if she wasn't talking to the person she was talking about. Kiryu had to hold back a smile at that, and when he looked back at Santa Majima he could see a wobbly smile past that gross beard.

"Aw Haru-Chan... yer gonna make me cry." He stepped towards them, kneeling in front of her and bringing a hand up to ruffle her hair a bit. "You wouldn't wanna make me cry now would ya?" He pouted out his lip and looked up at her with feigned sad eyes. She giggled and shook her head. A smile returned to his face as quickly as it left.

"Good!" He stood up quick enough to give himself whiplash and turned towards the mouth of the alleyway, "Ey Twinkletoes! We have a gal on the nice list that's waiting patiently for her Christmas gifts! Will ya hurry it up!"

Upon Majima's request, a man dressed in a stereotypical elf costume, that looked suspiciously like Nishida, came scrambling into the back alleyway. He was holding way too many stuffed dolls for one man to carry all alone. Most of them looked like prizes from the UFO catcher at the arcade. Each stuffed doll had a little bow wrapped around some part of its body in an attempt to put some sort of wrapping on them. The stack had every color and size variety of every doll you could win.

Kiryu distantly wondered if Majima had won all of these by himself or if he had found out where to buy all of them. Kiryu couldn't imagine Majima spending his day mowing down cash on a UFO catcher in the arcade, but then again it was also very believable. The man was unpredictable

Kiryu glanced over at Haruka. Her face was covered in shock and she had that wonderful childlike wonderstruck look in her eyes at the pile of toys held in poor elf-Nishida's arms. Even if Kiryu had to deal with Majima's antics, that look on her face was worth it.

"All of those are for me Majima-Ojisan?" She seemed to be stuck in a permanent gasp. Majima didn't correct her this time. He only nodded.

"Of course. You were a really good gal this year, and good gals get good toys." He explained as if it was obvious. She smiled so brightly, Kiryu was sure he could see Majima's heart melting into a puddle on the pavement.

"Anaki..." Nishida piped up as he struggled to balance the weight of all of the stuffed toys in his arms.

"I'll grab some--" Kiryu offered, taking a step forward to grab some of the dolls, but was quickly interrupted by a sharp interjection from Majima.

"Kiryu-Chan, only elves can touch the presents." His tone was teasing, but his face was darkened and serious. Kiryu backed off and Nishida continued to struggle. "If you drop a single one of princes Haruka's presents Nishida, I swear ta God--"

"Why don't you come inside?" Kiryu quickly interrupted before Majima started slinging threats. Nishida quickly nodded.

Their gangly group made their way up the stairs and to the door of their apartment, and Kiryu quickly fished out his keys from the pocket of his jacket. Once produced he wasted no time opening the door wide for everyone to start filing in. Nishida looked like his arms were about to give out at any moment. Eventually, all four of them squeezed into the apartment's tiny half living room-half kitchen set up, and Nishida quickly got to work putting the dolls under the small Christmas tree set up they had going.

Haruka took off her jacket and handed it to Kiryu, who moved by habit and put her jacket on the coat rack near the door. He then kneeled down to her height and quickly unzipped her boots, helping her take off the soaked shoes one at a time. Majima, not wanting to just hang in the doorway and stare as they did their routine, quickly toed off his shoes and went to help Nishida with the presents. He helped the only way he could-- by barking orders as to how Nishida was meant to perfectly place each and every doll under the tree.

The tree wasn't the biggest, only standing about four and a half feet tall, and some of the synthetic branches seemed to be missing judging by the gaps in the tree's formation. It was heavily decorated to compensate for it. Two different kinds of strings of lights were wrapped around the outer layer of branches, one in a usual rainbow tint and the other in white color.

The ornaments that hung from the tree all seemed to be homemade. A lot of them made with varying colors of popsicle sticks hot glued together to make certain shapes. One a reindeer made from a formation of brown popsicle sticks and googly eyes, another a Christmas tree made from green sticks and little beads as ornaments. The only ornaments on the tree that weren't homemade were two Bun-chan decorations made from cheap plastic that seemed like a limited edition prize from the arcade. One was in the pink variety and the other in the yellow.

The look of it was so sickeningly domestic in Majima's opinion. He could imagine Kiryu bringing home an old battered Christmas tree he found on the street, then he and Haruka making do with what they have and turning it into their own. It brought a smile to his face.

"Put that one there, Twinkletoes. Hey!! Don't you fuckin' dare knock over that ornament that princess Haruka took so much time to make!" Majima growled, kneeling down to adjust a popsicle stick figure of Kiryu that Nishida had bumped into, complete with his signature outfit and a frown drawn on in sharpie.

"Majima no nii-san," Majima shot Kiryu a look over his shoulder when he was called the wrong name, but let him continue, "Would you and-- uh... your elf want some shortcake? I think there's enough for all four of us." He bought a small cake for Christmas this year since he expected it to just be him and Haruka. He neglected to remember that he had another person intruding in on his life nowadays.

"Sounds good Kiryu-Chan." Majima grinned. Nishida seemed to perk up at the invitation for cake, which made Majima quickly turn towards him and continue snapping orders.

Kiryu stepped into the kitchen half of the room and went to the fridge in search of the Christmas Cake. While he did that, Haruka made herself useful and began to sift through the rack of dining wear that sat on the kitchen countertop, pulling out four small plates and forks, as well as a knife to cut the cake with.

After a few moments of Kiryu cutting up the cake and Haruka carefully placing each piece on their own respective plate, they walked back over to the other half of the room balancing two plates in hand. Haruka made her way over to Nishida first and handed him his slice. Majima pouted out of view.

"Thank you, Nishida." She whispered over to him as she handed him his slice. If she spoke too loud and Majima heard, she was sure Nishida would receive worse than a threat. He gave a curt nod and a small smile before taking his cake from her. She then turned to Majima and handed him his own.

"Aw thank ya, Haru-Chan. This is why you're on the nice list." He cooed, one hand balancing the plate with almost masterful precision while the other reached over to pat her head.

Kiryu placed Haruka and his own slices on the kotatsu that sat largely in the middle of the room, allowing them the opportunity to warm their cold feet after dipping their toes in freezing puddles the whole evening. The four of them sat together, eating their cake in comfortable silence.

"Santa Majima, you want to know what me and Ojisan were talking about on our way home?" Haruka perked up, licking the remnants of vanilla frosting from her fork.

"Sure." Majima shrugged.

"We were talking about animal facts."

"Animal facts huh?"

"Yeah, but like weird ones. Did you know that an octopus has three hearts?" Haruka parroted what Kiryu had said earlier. Majima's face shifted into exaggerated surprise.

"Really?" His Kansai accent shone through as his voice pitched up, "I had no idea. What do ya think they need that many hearts for?" Haruka paused at the question, actually taking a moment to think about it.

"Maybe they need one to stay alive, and then the other two contain all their love." Majima laughed at that.

"That’s a lot of love to hold on to. What do you think they love so much that they'd need so many hearts?" Again, she paused, taking the opportunity to take a bite of her cake as she pondered.

"Maybe for their families? Or maybe even a lover? Do octopus have lovers?"

"I'm sure they do. It would be sad if they had all those hearts to store their love and they didn't have anyone to share it with." Kiryu’s pretty sure his teeth were rotting with how sweet this conversation was... or maybe it was the cake. He didn't miss Majima's subtle glances over at him during this conversation. He was sure the other man was purposefully seeking out a flush from him, and he was succeeding.

"True. If I had all those hearts filled with love, I would want to share it with Ojisan!" Scratch that, both of them were tyrants attempting to ruin his reputation. Majima looked over at Kiryu, holding his face in his hand as he leaned over on it.

"I'd want to share it with your Ojisan if I had those hearts too." God. Damn. Tyrants.

Kiryu cleared his throat when the heat over his cheeks became too unbearable for him to just sit there any longer. He ate the last bite of his cake and stood from his spot under the kotatsu. He did not miss the heat on his legs as much as he originally thought he would. At the moment he just wanted to cool down.

Haruka rushed and shoved the last few pieces of her cake into her mouth, earning her a quiet scold from Kiryu before he took her fork and plate. He then proceeded to take Majima and Nishida’s as well. He noticed that Nishida’s had been licked clean.

He quickly took their dishes and washed them off before returning to the other half of the living room. He noticed that Nishida seemed to be missing now, probably leaving by Majima's order. Majima now sat lounging under kotatsu across from Haruka, the two of them continuing to talk about octopus-- Majima beginning to go on a rant about the environment and octopus populations.

Haruka stayed as interested in the conversation as she could, but after a while, she let out a yawn and realized that it had gotten much harder to leave her eyes open. That's when Kiryu glanced up at the clock on the far wall of the room and realized that it was already 11:30.

"Haruka," He called, getting her and Majima's attention. Majima seemed huffy that his rant had been interrupted. "Don't you think you should head to bed? I know hanging out with Santa Majima is fun, but you don't want Mr.Santa to not come because you're up too late." Her eyes widened when he spoke as if she had forgotten that Santa was something she had to worry about entirely.

"Right!" She quickly scrambled up from the kotatsu, rubbing her eyes tiredly as she did. She paused for a moment before she went to get ready for bed. "Can I bring a doll to bed?" She pointed towards the pile of dolls beneath the tree.

"Of course." Kiryu stepped over to the tree and kneeled down beside it. He shifted through the dolls before settling on grabbing a stray Woo-Kun. He held it up. "How about this one?" She nodded and took the doll from his hands, squeezing it close in a hug.

"Why don't you say thank you to Santa Majima before you get ready for bed?" He added.

"Santa Majima-Ojisan, thank you so much for the gifts!" She exclaimed, turning to him. She walked up to him and wrapped her arms around him in a warm embrace. Majima tensed for a moment, not exactly expecting the affection. But, he quickly melted into it and hugged her back twice as tight.

"No problem princess Haruka-chan! I always go above and beyond for gals on the nice list." He hummed, ruffling up her hair a bit when they pulled apart. She gave him one last smile before turning and walking towards the door to her small room. Then it was just Majima and Kiryu.

"Where'd you get all of these?" Kiryu asked, squeezing at a particularly puffed up pink bun-chan.

"Earned them all with hard work and dedication! You'd be amazed at what I can do with a whole day and a shit ton of cash." Kiryu hummed.

"You didn't just mug a particularly lucky kid at the arcade?" He mused, crawling over on the floor to sit next to Majima. Majima placed a hand on his chest as if he was offended.

"How dare you accuse me of theft Kiryu-Chan! I earned every doll honestly I promise." He looked over at him and produced pinky between them, "Pinky promise." Kiryu rolled his eyes at the childish gesture. He hooked their pinkies together anyway, and with the new leverage, he pulled the other man closer. He went to lean in for a kiss but then paused when the synthetic beard tickled at his chin. He huffed and brought his other hand up to tug the gross costume piece beneath his chin before he collided their lips together in a swift kiss.

"Aren't you slick?" Majima hummed when they pulled apart, his hand pulling away to instead wrap his arms around Kiryu's neck.

"How do you wear that thing, it has to be itchy as hell." He gestured to the beard. Majima shrugged.

"Ya get used to it after a while. But I have a whole new appreciation for people that dress up as the big man." He sighed, ripping the garment off now that he didn't need it anymore... especially since it got in the way of his Kiryu kisses. He tugged Kiryu forward by the back of his neck and connected them in a kiss once more, this one lasting longer than the last. Kiryu wrapped his arms around the older man's waist and pulled him close.

"You know, she loves it when you hang out with her, Goro." Kiryu pulled away slightly to comment against his lips. A shiver ran down Majima's spine at the use of his first name. He ran his fingers through Kiryu’s hair and gently massaged the scalp, earning him a pleased hum in response.

"I know." He paused for a moment before sheepishly adding, "I'm glad." Kiryu smiled, connecting their lips once more. But soon their kissing session was interrupted by Haruka loudly clearing her throat.

"M' ready to go to bed Ojisan!" She called from her door frame, clutching the Woo-Kun doll so tightly to her side he looked like he could suffocate. She wore her new pajamas that were covered in tiny reindeer and carefully wrapped presents, and she rubbed her tired eyes before turning and walking back into the confines of her room. Kiryu turned to Majima once again, pressing their foreheads together for a moment and pressing one last short kiss on his lips before pulling away and standing up.

"I'll put her to bed and then I'll be back." He offered when Majima gave him a childish pout at his absence. "Maybe then Santa Majima can help Mr.Santa set up the presents, and then we can have some alone time." He said much quieter, making sure Haruka couldn't hear him.

"I like the sound of that." Majima leaned back and smirked up at the younger man, earning him an eye roll before he turned and headed towards Haruka's room.

As Majima sat there, toes being warmed by the kotatsu, Christmas lights reflecting on the ceiling above him, and the distant sound of Kiryu’s deep rumbling voice telling Haruka of all the wonders Mr.Santa was doing this Christmas night, he let out a small sigh at how domestic it all felt. It was sickeningly sweet, and yet he couldn't help but love it-- if he was allowed again, he would want to do this every year. The mental image of spending Christmas with Kiryu and Haruka, eating Christmas cake, and talking about octopi, all sounded delightful to him.

His train of thought was interrupted when Kiryu tip-toed out of Haruka's room, carefully closing the door behind him slow enough for it to not creak. Kiryu returned back to his side in a moment, pressing a kiss to his cheek and running his hand in the shaven undercut of his hair.

"Help me with the gifts will you?" He requested with a whisper. Majima nodded, and at that moment he realized this was going to be a long night. He wouldn't have it any other way.

#kazumaji #kazuma kiryu #goro majima #goro brain rot #comfort character #haruka sawamura #my writing #my fic #yakuza #fluff #domestic fluff #christmas #christmas fluff #nishida yakuza #santa majima #probably not too accurate to an actual japanese christmas but I tried

36 notes · View notes

taboofables · 3 years

Photo

CP2077 OC ask game *:･ﾟ✧⚔️🤖🔮 [x]

PERSONAL.

1. what is their full name? do they have any nicknames? what are they and why did they get them? Vincent Laszlo Toth. Everyone just calls him V because he doesn’t like getting too personal. But if he feels comfortable around you he prefers to be called Laszlo. He’ll tell you himself

2. how old are they? how long have they been living on their own? 28 as of 2077. He’s been living on his own for 10 years since he joined Arasaka

3. what are their astrology signs? sun/moon/rising. He was born on June 10th 2049, which makes him a sun Gemini, moon Libra and ascendant Virgo

4. what tarot card from the major arcana would you associate with them? The Fool, the Hanged Man, Death

5. are they religious or spiritual in any way? Neither but his experience made him think of many things and he’s coming to a sort of spirituality in his own way

6. which of the four elements would you associate with them? Fire for his inner strength and transformation through action

9. which of the nine alignments are they? (lawful good etc) Chaotic neutral

10. which of the myers-briggs personality types are they? ESTP

11. do they have any cyberware? is it cosmetic or is it weaponry/armor? Circulatory system: Second heart; Frontal cortex: Ex-Disk; Arms: Projectile launch system; Ocular system: Kiroshi optics; Cyberdeck: NetWatch Netdiver Mk.5; Integumentary system: Subdermal armor; Skeleton: Titanium bones, Bionic lungs; Legs: Fortified ankles

12. what is their occupation? Arasaka’s personal lapdog? He’s not sure yet because he does a bit of everything but his competence in weaponry and hacking earned him a good score in the eyes of Saburo and Hanako Arasaka themselves. Sorry Goro & Oda

13. if you were to choose a class for them, what would it be? Combat netrunner

14. what is their weapon of choice? M-179 Achilles precision rifle, Malorian Arms 3516 gun

15. what is their preferred vehicle or transportation of choice? Villefort Cortes Delamain no.21 & Yaiba Kusanagi CT-3X. Depends on his mood and how fast he needs to arrive

16. how would you describe their style? He’s a shameless looter and wears only the best from his fallen enemies :) But mostly it’s neomilitarism

17. are they a early riser or a night owl? Night owl. He can adapt but at any given chance he stays up late and wakes up late

18. share three songs you associate with them. Devils Got You Beat - Blues Saraceno Nu Disco Remix Limp Bizkit - Break Stuff Jonathan Davis - Walk On By

NIGHT CITY.

19. is your character from night city? if no, where were they born? what brought them to night city? if yes, what area of the city did they grow up? Charter Hill, Night City. It’s a corpo district, relatively new. Used to be a nice place until everyone with big pockets got the hots for North Oak. Now it’s just the most affordable comfort area for mid-level corpos

20. where do they currently live? describe their home. He currently resides at the Arasaka Family Compound outskirts of Tokyo. It’s a huge ass fortress in a feudal style, beautiful and old-fashioned. He has a simple but spacious room in a traditional Japanese style with a futon mattress. He loathes it & most of the people around but at least he gets fed well regularly, and he enjoys spending time in a cherry grove garden

21. do they have any favorite spots around NC? A garden in the Glen, he found it refreshing

22. do they like to cook for themselves, or eat out? do they prefer restaurants or street food? and how do they feel about vending machine food? He doesn’t like vending machines and enjoys the food served at the Compound, even if it seems exotic to him. But occasionally he eats street food to remind himself of his past life

23. do they prefer the city or the badlands? Stone jungles all the way. He was born in the city and he doesn’t get the appeal of dirt, sand and wind

24. what gang/faction/corporation do they align with, if any? Arasaka. He always thought it was more promising than Militech despite his parents’ lectures. His fate within the company wasn’t always good but he worked hard to prove himself. In some twisted way it did pay off

25. which radio station(s) is their favorite? He switches between Pacific Dreams, Vexelstrom, Samizdat and Morro Rock

26. if they do merc work, do they have one dedicated fixer? if so, who? Not really but he enjoyed working with Rogue. Johnny was right, she is the best. Her charisma is unmatched

27. have they ever had run ins with the badges? He prefers not to attract attention even if he has corpo immunity

28. are they quick to help a stranger in need or do they prefer to stay out of other peoples business? Depends. If stranger seems to be innocent then he might, but if V smells they brought it on themselves he won’t lift a finger for them

29. do they have any favorite celebrities that frequent or live in NC? how would they feel meeting them? V isn’t into celebrities. His closest experience to meeting one would be abduction of Hanako Arasaka. It wasn’t part of the plan and at first he thought he screwed up even worse than before - she was his former boss’ daughter at the time and he was practically begging her for help. But for some strange reason she reached out to him more than once so maybe he wasn’t so terrible

RELATIONSHIPS.

30. is your friend a social butterfly or more of a loner? Not exactly a butterfly but certainly not a loner. He socializes well but currently the world of top-level managers makes him feel out of place. Not a lot of people to connect to and it’s suffocating

31. who are their closest chooms in NC? Jackie was. Now it’s Viktor Vector and Misty but he hasn’t seen them in a while

32. do they have anyone they would consider family? Judy and Panam as they went through a lot together and supported each other

33. what is/was their relationship like with their parents? They are Militech managers so they weren’t happy when he chose Arasaka. They don’t communicate ever since

34. do they have siblings? He has an older brother Andras ‘Andy’ Toth but he hasn’t spoken to him for a while either

35. how would you describe their relationship with their family? Estranged

36. who is their biggest enemy? At this point anyone The Arasakas point their fingers at

37. tell a short story about your character with their best choom. Not exactly a story but V regrets never telling Jackie how much he affected his life. Jackie was a real force of nature

38. do they have a love interest? if so, who? He might... But he’s completely oblivious to his feelings and she’s way out of his league. It’s Hanako Arasaka

39. are they in a committed relationship or do they date around? They’re not and they don’t

40. has your character ever been in love? if so, with who? Once, with another corpo girl at Arasaka long time ago. It didn’t work

41. do they believe in soulmates? No, he believes in luck and mutual efforts

42. do they believe in love at first sight? He heard about it but it never happened to him and he doesn’t believe he can fall for someone just seeing them for the first time. You literally don’t know them at all at this point. He believes that love is a mutual investment and work

43. describe their ideal date. At this point it might be something as simple as watching sakura trees blooming. Small pleasures of life

44. would your character ever get married? If he had more time to live then maybe, theoretically. If he could be with someone special and circumstances worked in their favor

45. what was your characters first impression of their partner(s)? Not a partner but rather a love interest. He thought that Hanako handled herself well given the overall situation, and even was arrogant as fuck. Maybe that’s why she impressed him, it left a mark on his memory. I mean, you kidnap someone and they pretty much insult you? Fuck yes, no gift wrap is required

46. are they open about their relationship or low key? how would other people feel about them together? They’re not in a relationship but if they would be then it’d definitely be low key. No one should know, otherwise it may create serious problems for both

47. share a headcanon about your character and their partner(s). He likes to take and touch things from her table when he’s pensive during their conversations. Occasionally he spouts self-made haiku when the mood strikes him and boy - he’s terrible at it

48. share three songs you associate with your character and their partner(s). Chris Isaak - Wicked Game Jonathan Davis - Basic Needs The Rolling Stones - Anybody Seen My Baby? Hikaru Utada - Heart Station

NSFW.

49. name three of your characters biggest turn ons. Nice derriere, beautiful eyes and maturity

50. name three of your characters biggest kinks. Not taking clothes off; Voyeurism; Footsie

51. do they like having multiple partners or do they prefer monogamy? When it comes to a relationship he’s fully committed but he hasn’t been in one for a long time

52. do they watch porn or braindances? Both but BDs beat porn. He doesn’t do it often though

53. would your character ever make an explicit braindance? No, he’s not interested and not in a position to make one

54. do they have any cybernetic enhancements that serve sexual purposes? No

55. do they have a preference for ‘ganic bodies or do they like modifications? He doesn’t care much as long as he likes the person. Organic bodies are soft and warm, they give different kind of sensations. But he’s not picky

56. name three of your characters biggest turn offs. Low IQ, overly sexual behavior, manipulations

57. what is their ultimate fantasy? or ““secret”“ kink? Don’t ask because he won’t tell you even if his life depended on it. It’s bending Hanako over her piano and giving her a hard fuck, and once they’re done it’s breathing heavily in unison against her neck, their hands holding each other, her golden fingers leaving bruises on his thighs afterwards

58. would they ever use any substances like aphrodisiacs, alcohol or drugs during sex? No, he prefers natural sensations. At least as long as his nervous system is working properly

59. what is their wildest sexual experience? He accidentally almost drowned once during sex in a bathtub

60. are they more submissive or dominant? Dominant

61. does your character need to have an intimate relationship with someone to have sex? or do they prefer being unattached? That depends on a situation. Intimate relationship heightens the effects but aren’t necessary to derive pleasure

62. has your character ever participated in group sex? No but he received invitations

63. do they like to sext or play over the holo? Yes, if there’s a appropriate time for it

64. has your character ever ghosted someone after a sexual encounter? Yes

65. how would they react if they were ghosted by someone they like after a sexual encounter? He’s already been ghosted by Meredith Stout and he doesn’t think it’s a big deal. It’s unpleasant but why focus on something that doesn’t work if you can find more opportunities?

66. do they prefer kink oriented sex or spontaneous passionate sex? If he had to choose then it would be the latter

67. how do they get down on their own? quick and easy or do they have to romance themselves a little? Quick and easy, all he needs is imagination and a shower. Just don’t disturb him

68. in what outfit do they feel sexiest? how do they dress to impress? Anything that’s clean, fresh and comfortable to wear

69. do they like having music on while they have sex? share three songs they’d play while getting down. He never tried it with music but he’s always open to new experiences and suggestions

#:[subject - V]:#:[dossier - V]:#:[query]:

8 notes · View notes

akechicrimes · 4 years

Text

summary: college aged akira is a little stupid and attempts the big bang burger challenge while drunk as all hell. it goes about as well as you can expect and goro is long-suffering as he deals with the aftermath

cw: drinking, vomiting

read on ao3 here

***

Goro finds out that Akira made a hobby of eating gigantic twenty-pound burgers during high school when, during college, Akira downs five martinis and a shot of tequila on his twentieth birthday, walks plastered as all fuck into a Big Bang Burger at two in the morning, and finishes the burger challenge in front of Goro's and Ryuji's increasingly horrified and equally drunk eyes in less than four minutes.

"DUDE," says Ryuji.

"Congratulations," says Goro. "That's one of the most disgusting things I've ever seen."

"Hey, don't say that to him on his birthday! That was—okay that was a little disgusting, but what a effin' shot chaser, huh?"

"Can you even move?" Goro asks. Akira's looking increasingly queasy, and the poor cashier for the Big Bang Burger is looking increasingly nervous.

"I'm a veteran," Akira says.

"Wow. You really say that with unironic pride," says Goro.

Akira flashes him the peace sign without expression.

Unsurprisingly, they make it down two blocks, during which Goro and Ryuji argue about whether or not the cashier could tell they were drunk (she could, she was just too polite) when Akira suddenly stops. "Wait," says Akira, and then a very long pause, in the way that drunk people do when their thoughts are moving at five kilometers an hour but nonetheless are struggling towards the finish line. Then Akira announces like a personal life revelation: "I'm gonna hurl."

Goro freezes. "You are not serious."

"Here?!" Ryuji yelps. He looks around frantically; they're not quite in Shinjuku but close enough that there's hardly a public bathroom just conveniently around. "Oh, geez, uh—"

Akira starts walking towards the nearest alleyway, swaying on his feet with his hand over his mouth. "Holy shit," says Ryuji, "go go go go—"

And this is how Goro comes to be standing over Akira Kurusu, ill-fated high school crush of his that Goro may or may not have never gotten over, while said crush throws up behind a dumpster.

Akira's still bent double, chest heaving, hair slowly growing sweaty and plastered to his face. Goro's hands flutter over him without touching. Smoothing someone's back when they throw up is just what you're supposed to do, a sort of meaningless platitude from movies, but it never made a lot of sense to Goro. It doesn't make the retching stop. On the occasions Goro has ever been sick enough to throw his guts up, he's never had anyone to stroke his back, so he wouldn't know if it helps at all. And for all Goro knows, maybe the last thing Akira wants is Goro touching him.

Ryuji has no such qualms, and is quite aggressively rubbing Akira's back, even stroking his neck in a way that makes Goro's eyes narrow. Makes him wonder what precisely goes on when Ryuji touches his male friends constantly, and why Akira seems to let him like it's nothing.

"Geez," says Ryuji, coming over to peer at Akira from the other side. "Ugh. Shit. This is kinda my fault, huh?"

"No," says Akira, in a high, strained voice. "Uh. I'm fine."

"You're effin' not. It is my fault. Fuck." For a second Ryuji looks so pissed off with himself that Goro's convinced they're going to have a drunken sob session in a dirty alleyway covered in vomit. When Ryuji drapes his whole arm across Akira's back, Akira just—leans into it with his whole body, like he's relieved. Goro is holding his breath. "Shoulda told you not to do it. This sucks as a birthday party, huh?"

Akira retches in answer, the soundless kind of your whole body revolting from the bottom up but not quite able to get anything out.

Goro stares at Ryuji's hand again. "I'll.. go get water from a convenience store," says Goro eventually. "Maybe something with electrolytes. I'm sure he'll need to replace those."

"Oh! Wait, that's a good idea—I'll do it!" says Ryuji. "Yeah, that's what he needs! Hey, uh, just stay here with him, I'll go—"

This backfired spectacularly, Goro thinks. "Don't worry about it, Sakamoto."

"No, no, I got it! Gotta make it up to him after I screwed up and all that," says Ryuji, and with one more enthusiastic backrub, he's bouncing out of the alleyway. "I'll be back in just a second!"

"Sakamoto—!"

No use. He's gone.

Akira retches again. The vegetable bits are coming up impressively whole, Goro notes with mild disgust.

"I didn't join a frat specifically to avoid holding someone's hair while they hurl, Kurusu," says Goro.

"Sorry," says Akira into the pavement, still a little drunkenly. "The burger challenge was supposed to be funny."

"Well," says Goro, and thinks. "It's not not funny."

Akira thinks about that double negative for a whole five seconds. He's beginning to look nauseous again, possibly from the force of thought. Goro regrets making the joke. Akira looks incredibly ill, and increasingly miserable, in the way that people do when they're realizing that nothing they can do can stop their body from making them feel like shit, and they'll just have to sit here and bear it.

"Face away from me if you're going to throw up again, please," says Goro.

Akira does faces away, but just pants. "Am I still sexy like this," says Akira like a joke that Goro has a feeling he is missing a lot of context for. Goro frowns.

"Considering you inhaled a burger larger than your torso, I don't know what convinced you that you were ever, at any point, sexy."

Then Akira does throw up again, which Goro is quite sure managed to get on Goro's shoes, and something in the back of Goro's head just says Okay, fuck it, because Akira is literally shivering with nausea and Goro figures that he maybe won't notice if Goro dares to put his hand right in that empty space between his shoulderblades.

Akira shudders harder.

Slowly, Goro rubs his back, the way he saw Ryuji do it. Akira's skin is insanely hot under Goro's hand, even though Goro's glove. Akira's wearing a stupidly thin shirt, too, considering that they're well on their way into autumn; Goro can feel a surprising number of lean, curved muscles. He can feel every one of Akira's breaths, messy and deep.

"Sorry," says Akira.

Goro very nearly freezes, but Akira looks so put out by it that he makes himself keep going. The back of Akira's neck is cool and wet with sweat. "You don't have anything to be sorry for. You're the one who's sick."

"I wanted the party to be fun for you too." Akira closes his eyes. Wipes his face. "I dunno. I wasn't thinking. I thought it'd be silly." Another deep breath. "I wanted to make you laugh. Sorry. Wait. I didn't say that. Well. It was something I did in high school so... I wanted you to know more things about me... since we didn't really. Have enough time. Back then. Um. Sorry. Wait."

"What on earth are you talking about?"

Akira looks up. He doesn't wear his glasses anymore, and although Goro's seen him without his glasses for longer than he's seen him with them on, there's some part of Goro that still expects him to be wearing them, still expects that thin film of glass between Akira's eyes and Goro's. Akira looks especially naked today, expression not so much hazy so much as it is blown wide open, almost looking a little... afraid. "Sorry. I know you didn't want to spend your night this way."

Goro should probably tell him that it's a Wednesday and he felt so bad for Akira with all his friends abroad and barely anyone free to go drinking on a Wednesday for his birthday, but Akira's breathing is deep under Goro's hands, his hair is wrecked, and there's the smell of vomit in the air because Akira's face is maybe too close. "I don't mind," says Goro instead without thinking.

"Yeah, you do."

"Okay, I do," says Goro. "But it's fine because—"

—because it's you, Goro almost says, and successfully bites off before he can say it. He lost the right to say those kinds of things; and if he hadn't, he wouldn't be saying it now, here, in a alleyway covered in vomit. Akira frowns. Goro takes a breath. His hand is still on Akira's back. Akira swaying where he's standing, their legs almost touching. Goro scrambles around for something else to say: "I would never say no if you showed your weaknesses to me."

There's half a moment of surprise on Akira's face, and then another half a moment in which Goro reflects that maybe he himself is drunker than he really expected, when—"Hey, Akira!" Ryuji calls, barreling back into the alleyway, jangling a plastic bag full of more plastic.

Goro nearly jumps out of his skin and snatches his hand away.

Ryuji stops, staring at the two of them standing four feet apart, Goro's hands very pointedly at his own sides. "Hey, uh... you guys good?"

"Yep," says Akira.

Goro clears his throat. "Get on with it, Sakamoto. I'm calling a cab to get us all home," he announces, and strides out of the alleyway, already pulling out his phone.

"No, seriously, you alright?" says Ryuji's voice behind him. When Goro turns around, Akira's eyes are illuminated in the dark like a cat's, tracking Goro's escape.

"I'm fine, Ryuji," says Akira again, like he always does.

Goro turns away quickly. The hand he'd rested on Akira's back, even through his glove, is still warm.

There’s definitely thrown-up burger bits on Goro’s shoes, though. Goro sighs, and calls the cab.

#mine

76 notes · View notes

itsa-lie · 3 years

Text

Birth Of A Liar Part Three

||Part One||Part Two||Part Three||Part Four||Part Five||

Oh boy, I have some angst in store for you today let me tell you. This poor boy has been through a lot.

Trigger warning for murder, taking care of babies, bl**d, and cl*wns

DICE...everyone liked the sound of that. Hanako gloated that it was like she was in one of those secret spy organizations like in the movies and, well Kokichi couldn’t agree more. He did sneak into a cinema once or twice so he knew a thing or two about evil organizations. Not that he thought he was evil, hell no, couldn’t be farther from the truth. But from Maki and Goro’s comments about stealing being evil it was kind of hard not to have that mindset.

So he went with it. Even practiced making evil faces in the mirror a few times. Practice makes perfect after all.

And would you know it the young boy actually loved having company. Sure Goro was quiet and always apologizing for the dumbest things, Maki scared the shit out of him, and Hanako cried for almost everything, but it was fine. Besides, Hanako taught him a really great trick to guilt-trip adults. All he had to do was cry. That easy. Just cause a scene and everyone would go to your aid. Plus with extra people they were able to get more things like televisions and game consoles. It wasn’t stealing, it was giving to orphans and that wasn’t evil...right?

However it really wasn’t an organization with only four people...in the movies they had more members. So once as Kokichi was sitting in front of the store he usually steals or guilt-trips people to buy from he sees something odd going on in the street. A woman carrying a bundle in her arms while another man chases her from behind. He seemed to have a gun in his hands, the woman was running for her life! A headache filled the boy’s head as a memory crossed his mind. He was smaller. A woman with black hair holding him. A man with purple hair knocking a gun out of the hand of a man pointing it right for him. Cringing at the slight pain Kokichi held his head. He didn’t know why he did this but he got up and chased the man.

His feet were not as fast as the man however and out of no where there’s a loud bang. Then a baby crying. Kokichi quickly hid behind a brick wall. It was a good thing he did too, since the gunned ban came out of the alleyway with a handful of cash leaving a crying baby at his wake. Should he dare look back there? He definitely wouldn’t like what he was going to see. Still he turned around slowly into the dark alleyway. The woman was face down in a puddle of blood while the baby cries brokenhearted and afraid beside her. Cautiously Kokichi approached the woman and checked for signs of life. There was none. Also for a second he could see the woman being that black haired woman carrying him in his memories which made him gasp and fall back.

“N-No...t-that’s not mama...” He consoled himself. She’s probably okay and will come back for him, after all the body was gone the next day, who’s to say an ambulance didn’t pick her and his father up and bring them to safety? Now they’re just looking for him! But this baby...what if something happens to it? It was much too young to take care of itself like he was. Ooooh but what would Maki and the rest say? He has to decide quickly, the sounds of sirens were coming closer and closer.

-------------------

“YOU BROUGHT HOME A BABY?!” Maki’s loud tone of voice made Kokichi jump and the baby cry even louder. “Yeah! It’s our new pet! Surprise!” Maybe if he pretends it’s a gift they won’t get so mad. He was wrong. Goro smiles politely, even if it was easy to see the baby just made more worry on him. Maki was very angry, angry enough to beat Kokichi to a bloody pulp and she probably would have if he wasn’t cradling a baby in his arms. Hanako was very excited though, jumping up and down to try to see the baby.

“Babies aren’t pets, dipshit.” Maki growled holding her temples. She does her best not to curse in front of little ones but by God was she in a bad mood. Even Goro could see the steam rising out of her. Maybe he should try to heal the situation a little bit.

“Now now, Maki. You did the same thing when Hanako was in danger.” Goro tries to put a hand on his sister’s shoulder before she pulls away. “That was different! You can’t just STEAL a baby! What if the parents find out? What if they find out about us?”

Kokichi was silent, he shows the blanket with a bloodstain on it.

“They won’t...it’s mom is dead.”

“D-Don’t call them an ‘it’! And what about their dad?!”

“I-I dunno! W-Why are you yelling at me? You’re scaring the baby!”

Maki quickly took the baby from Kokichi’s arms and examined them. Their cries getting louder and louder, the baby thrashed and moved. Finally Maki looks at the others, her eyes closed. “They need a diaper change.”

“W-What?!”

“N-No way am I doing that again! I already used to change yours, I’m not doing THAT again.”

“Ewww hehehe!”

“You don’t have to. You just need to get me some diapers and diaper cream. You steal from the store all the time, right?” Maki states, bouncing the baby on her shoulder. That oddly seemed to calm it down a little. How was she this gifted with kids? “Fine, but don’t let it barf or poop or whatever on our stuff. Hana, stay with Maki and help her with the baby. Goro, come with me.” True to his leader form Kokichi gives orders imminently and the rest follow. Perhaps what Maki said was right. Being a leader does run in his “jeans”. As ordered Kokichi managed to snag a bag of diapers and diaper cream as Goro distracted the workers as usual. Man Kokichi hopes he doesn’t grow much taller because stealing is way easy because of his height. At long last they arrive at the abandoned building they lived in.

“We got the-”

“Give me that.” Maki practically took the supplies out of his arms. She must be really desperate to stop the infants crying. Even Hanako was covering her ears. Swiftly Maki places the baby on a table and begins working. Curiously Kokichi looked over Maki’s shoulder to see what she was doing and then quickly regrets it, his face turning green and close to dry heaving. That was a horrible idea. Yet Maki seemed...unbothered by it? It was almost mesmerizing at how fast she changed them. Once she was done the crying...stopped?

“Did you fix it?” Kokichi asked, now feeling better from the peace and quiet without the baby yowling.

“Did you fix him. He’s a boy.” Maki corrects him as she cradles the child. “And yes. He’s fine now. Also his name is Kenji...” The baby quickly falls asleep in her arms finally making the place quiet.

“How do you know?” asked Goro tilting his head to the side. Maki simply shows Kenji’s tiny chubby arm to reveal a hospital bracelet on it.

-Kenji Date, DOB: 7/6/20XX, Paitent ID: 11037

So the baby was probably born recently given how close the dates were, maybe about one month old. Still Maki was looking angry with Kokichi, but didn’t do anything. “C’moooon you can’t stay mad at me forever can you? Look at this faaaace. It would be sad without my ultimate assassin friend.”

“Call me that again and you’ll be the next victim...” she warns, her eyes narrowing again. “But aren’t assassins and murderers different things?” Kokichi asks, honestly confused. “They’re the same thing, dumbass...” Well shit he didn’t know. Another awkward silence.

“I guess everything worked out in the end though. And hey! We can add more members with other orphans! Think of this, a whole network of orphans working together to protect each other!”

Maki shook her head. “That sounds like a cartoon...”

“But you’d watch it, wouldn’t you?”

“Fine, I guess so...but no babies okay? They’re really hard to take care of as it is.”

And with that promise, DICE gained more and more members. In about a few years the whole place would be practically crawling with orphans or kids who wanted to be away from abusive homes. In fact so many orphans had lived there that they even had to move some to upstairs rooms. And with more members came cool new stuff! More toys, books, games, anything they could steal they would. It was like running their own little orphanage. However they did have to have some other leaders in power too making sure the other’s stayed in line. Kokichi picked nine others to “co-star” as he put it in his operation. Of course Maki was one, so was Goro, but because he was immature only the tall kids get to be the co-leaders.

“But you’re shorter than all of them! How are you leader?” Hanako asked one day as everyone was making masks to wear for Halloween to play their usual pranks and to hide their identity. “Because I came up with this idea so, as it’s so plainly obvious to see, I should be leader!” Kokichi grins booping the girl on the nose. “Hmph! Well I thought only tall people could be leader so...”

“Nhyhehehe, oh Hana. Tell you what, if anything ever happens to me, you become leader okay?” He tips his leader hat and flaunts his cape as if he was trying to be dramatic. Though how dramatic can you be with an old baseball cap and a tattered old bed sheet flowing behind you? Hanako looked hopeful as her eyes sparkled. “I can have the hat and cape too?” Kokichi dramatically held the bed sheet in front of himself like a vampire would. “Any perks of being DICE leader you can have. But I won’t be leaving any time soon you know~”

As the children drew their masks, Kokichi starts the meeting.

“Hello my fellow crime syndicates! As you know, today is Halloween. We’ve been waiting for this day all year my friends. And finally it came!” The whole building filled with applause which made him laugh. Maki just shook her head. If he keep it up they’ll be found out but he kept everyone so...so together. “Now I know what you’re thinking...’why would we be making clown masks for?’ Well I’ll tell you! Bring in the boxes!”

Hoards of boxes came rushing in being displayed in front of all the children eliciting “oohs” and “ahhs” This was probably their biggest heist yet! Never have the kids seen so much stuff come in before, not even food. What sort of wonders awaited inside those containers? “Now, open!” The bigger kids opened the box to reveal the most amazing thing! Costumes and prank supplies covered the ground. This was the year! This was the year they have an actual, real Halloween! All the kids went forward to grab some stuff but the co-leaders organized them into a single file line to make sure everyone got a costume and supplies.

“Sorry, all the costumes are clown costumes but, hey that’s why I made you all make the masks!” Kokichi exclaimed. Everyone didn’t mind. This was a fun activity and now they had something they can do that normal kids with parents usually do! However Maki was the only one to speak up. “You got crates of costumes? How do you expect not to get caught?! You know they have security cameras, right?” Kokichi shrugged his shoulders and places his hands behind his head. “So? Look at their faces! Even Kenji and Hanako are smiling! Worrying about that stuff will just ruin the moment so just reeeelax a bit Maki.” It was true. The kids looked more happy than ever. But something inside her seemed like this was going to be a bad idea...

Once everyone was dressed they all hit the streets. Each child knew about their one rule: no killing. Their leader was against murder in any way possible teaching the children how horrible death was and how they should avoid it. All of the kids got a costume, as well as eight of the Co-Leaders, but Maki and Kokichi were left without one. “I don’t mind. As long as the kids have one I will just go as Kokichi Ouma for Halloween.”

Boy was this the most fun these children have ever had, With their clown suits and masks on their faces they made mischief in the city. Toilet paper rolls on houses, chalk graffiti on walls, water buckets on doors, the whole place was crawling with little clown gremlins causing mayhem in their wake. It was enough to make Kokichi proud. “Oh this is enough to bring a tear to my eye~!” The leader claims dramatically. Maki just rolled her eyes and said nothing, however she was happy to see the children having the time of their lives. However she stops as she was walking, looking like a deer in headlights at the televisions in a shop window. Kokichi waves his hand in front of her as to get a reaction. All she could do was point.

A newscaster on the screen started talking, a picture of a clown at his side, underneath the headline states: “Clown thieves hit the streets”. Kokichi could feel the lump forming in his throat.

“Good evening.” The newscaster began as he bangs his stack of papers on the table once to align them. “A group of pranksters? Or a group of kidnappers? A hoard of clown suit wearing children hit the streets today causing panic and anger across the city. We have no idea where they come from or what they want, but they continue to wreak everything in their path. We go live to our reporter, Michiko Nakajima.” The screen changes to a woman in a dress with a microphone in her hands. Kokichi could have sworn that the woman was behind him somewhere.

“Thank you, Natsumi-San. I am standing here on the very street where young Kenji Date was taken from his mother’s arms seven years ago. His mother shot dead in an abandoned alley. They couldn’t find the killer or the child’s body, however one clown who has been taken into custody had Kenji’s hospital bracelet in his pocket!” The screen shows a picture of Kenji, his mask off, looking sad and disappointed. The two leaders could feel their souls about to fly from their body.

“I like where I am! You’re not gonna take me to some stinky orphanage!” Kenji exclaimed on the screen as two men take him away. “Luckily the father was still alive to bring little Kenji back home to his rightful place.” The reporter finishes as it then cuts to a man who has red puffy eyes. It seems he had been crying. This makes Kokichi feel immense guilt rise up in the pit of his stomach. “I’m just happy I can finally see my son...these clown people took seven years of me getting to know him.” The man looks like he could break down at any second. “He won’t even call me ‘dad’, he just says ‘where’s Kokichi and Maki’ or ‘Kokichi will save me’!”

The name “Kenji” meant “an intelligent child” but also meant “ public prosecutor”. It all made sense in a way. Just like his own name, “Kokichi”, meant “little luck”. Right now he was having no luck. Maki was beginning to sweat too. From the corner of her eye she could see the news reporter and camera crew come closer. “This makes it even more curious. Years ago another child had been lost after his parents death. Kokichi Ouma, then three years old, was deemed lost as both his parents were killed by his father’s own gang. Another, Maki Haruwaka, the youngest of many children, killed her father in cold blood before leaving with her older brother Goro Haruwaka. Both these children have yet to be found, but law enforcement is still on the look out.”

Without warning Maki began to run. She knew this was a horrible idea! No one would even know their secret if Kokichi just did an inside Halloween party instead like they usually do.

“M-Maki wait-”

But it was too late, she already ran too far. He tries to catch her, but was stopped by a big brawny man who held him by the shoulders. Kokichi kicked and thrashed, but the man had no trouble taking him to where he wanted him to go.

“Maki!!!”

The newscaster looks back at the camera, obviously excited by this rise in the story she was reporting.

“We have word that we might have just found the lost children Kokichi Ouma and Maki Haruwaka! Could this be a clue to find more missing children? We will give updates as soon as they’re avalible. Michiko Nakajima, Tokyo news.”

#kokichi ouma #kokichi oma #heandcanons #we learn more about DICE :3c

3 notes · View notes

kareofbears · 4 years

Text

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

25 notes · View notes

coridallasmultipass · 3 years

Photo

Smile! (Motaro, L7) 😈😬🦗🙏 Love that funky little scorpion pose. (And he's actually "smiling" [cough-baring his fangs-cough] too.) He got mad because I turned my hand and him upside down to look him over more. The pic with the fly - he fucking missed. I held him up to the fly like 4 times and he struck 2 times and didn't get it lol. 🙏🙏🙏🙏 On a sadder note - TW PET ANIMAL DEATH - Her Highness Miss Tiny, Sheeva, died yesterday. She was sick the day before, too. I woke up and saw she had thrown up a lot (she had only eaten about a quarter of the worm I gave her on Tuesday/4 days ago). So I separated her, cleaned the whole tank, made sure she had plenty of dry fresh air, and offered a bunch of the flightless fruit flies. (I knew I'd need them!) She did catch and eat a few of them, so I was relieved she still had an appetite, and held out hope she would get better, but yesterday... She was just so lethargic and couldn't even eat the smushed fruit flies I put up to her mouth. She could only move her arms, and it was only to swat the live fruit flies away. I really tried to help feed her and prop her up, but she needed to rest. I just buried her here at my aunt's house, and it really fucking sucks having to do this. She just had a healthy shed a week prior. I don't even know what I did wrong besides be a little late for feeding! Motaro and Goro are both healthy right now! (Goro just shed to L7 yesterday!) I know Sheeva was probably a runt, but she has survived this long without any issues besides a late first shed. So maybe it was my fault. I fucking hate dealing with grief. I can't fucking do this. Not even about Sheeva, I'm still struggling with different grief from a few years ago. Anyway. Hopefully Motaro and Goro at least make it to full adulthood. Out of the four mantises I kept, these guys were the biggest and baddest of the Bigge Bois, so they were the most likely to thrive to adulthood. 🦗🦗🦗🦗 #prayingmantis #preyingmantis #chinesemantis #tenoderasinensis #mantis #mantises #mantids #insect #bug #insects #bugs #insectpet #insectkeeping #bugkeeping #mantidsofinstagram #pet #pets #petstagram #animaldeathmention https://www.instagram.com/p/CRKVMqAs4KT/?utm_medium=tumblr

#prayingmantis #preyingmantis #chinesemantis #tenoderasinensis #mantis #mantises #mantids #insect #bug #insects #bugs #insectpet #insectkeeping #bugkeeping #mantidsofinstagram #pet #pets #petstagram #animaldeathmention

1 note · View note

nitholites · 4 years

Text

Day 6- Flower Shop/ Tattoo Artist AU (really really late, ik, but I'm done editing it cuz it's driving me mad)

(in this one, I replaced Goro with a different detective, to remain nameless. They weren't Shido's kid, but was screwed by him so they took on Akechi's plan while Pancake Boi took a different route for revenge. After the end, though, he gave up on the plan when Shido went to jail)

The buzz of the tattoo machine filled the air, constant and usual. The inked art came to life against the woman's skin, careful designs and colors seamlessly filling the requested space. Handling the machine and making the art come to life was one Akira Kurusu, his curly black hair held back in a messy bun and his dark, loose tank top showing the tattoos he had along his upper body. His arms didn't have many- mostly on his inner forearm and simple designs, but with bold colors and shading. They were somewhat random and increasing in quality. On his back, however, the real art started.

Little could be seen of his back that day- just the back of his shoulders. But it was enough to give anyone the impression there had to be more. On his right shoulder, what looked like the top of a skeletal pirate sat, permanent grin cocky and easy as a pipe lay between his shoulders. On the left, a red panther tail curled towards the back of his neck, the head turned towards anyone behind him and ending at the edge of his back. The seemingly incomplete art made people wonder what was on his back.

His friends knew exactly what it looked like, seeing as they all pitched in.

The panther stood, flames dancing around it. The pirate had no ship, riding on lightning. Below and on top of the lightning was a white fox, dark and light blue accents coating it's fur as ice provided a step for it. Beneath the panther on the other side of the fox was a masked queen in grays with neon blue accents, holding a spiked staff towards the middle, dissapering behind the one in the middle and reappearing right before the fox. In the middle was a mostly black and gray humanoid, red gloves held up as though it were pulling one tighter as small, curved, red horns escaped beneath its mask and hair. Beneath it all was a vigilante wearing pink, a black cat curled around her shoulders and an intelligent gleam in it's blue eyes. To the left of the cat and vigilante was a dark book with lime accents, binary barely visible unless you got a good look at it. It lay on his left hip, pages appearing open only to the other figures above and around it.

He and Yusuke had spent about a week on the design, confirming it with their friends before each of them- minus Morgana- got a matching one either the same size or smaller and in various parts of their bodies.

On Akira's front, hidden beneath his shirt and on his right hip, lay the Phantom Thieves symbol, the iconic 'Take Your Heart' directly beneath it.

He couldn't steal hearts anymore, but he and his friends would always be the Phantom Thieves.

The bell above the door jingled, letting in the bustle of the underground mall for a moment. Akira didn't waste any time, hands steady with practice as he let his attention slightly fade. "Just a minute," he called over the rock/jazz music playing in the background. At that moment, Rivers in the Desert was playing.

In a moment, he turned the machine off, wrapping up what he needed to do to make sure the red heart with the name 'Saki' stayed permanent. He quickly recited care for the tattoo to the woman, who nodded and gave her full attention before standing and leaving. He walked her to the front, sliding behind the counter as the bell jingled when she left. He stood comfortably behind the counter, turning down the music. "Hi, welcome to Thieves of Arts, how can I help you," he recited, taking in shoulder-length brown hair and red eyes. He recognized the young man, of course. The person who worked the small flower shop across the street was nice enough from what the owner said. Hard-working and reliable, just like Akira had been when he worked there a couple years ago. Back then, he had four paying jobs- the Phantom Thieves couldn't pay for everything from Palaces, especially in the beginning- with one being in the same flower shop the man was working in. After everything with Mementos, life went on as normal- Akira went back to Shujin after a long talk with his parents, who agreed to give Sojiro full custody over him after a long debate, and spent his last year with his friends and working in Leblanc. After, he officially quit his part-time jobs and decided to do what he wanted- which was, surprisingly, open a tattoo shop. He used part of his- admittedly- large savings to get the place, pay the bills, and get the equipment, learning what he could from an old aquaintance before making his goal a reality. Before opening shop, he practiced quite a bit on himself and willing customers, glad his artistic childhood kicked in a bit to help him adapt faster.

He still helped out in Crossroads when Lala-chan needed and in the flower shop when the owner was sick or couldn't come in- in her words, he knew more about flowers than she did at that point.

But, surprisingly enough, this was the first time he talked with the other employee. "Actually, Hanasaki-san said you could help with the flower shop?"

Akira nodded, brow furrowing as he pulled out his phone, noting the missed texts from the kind lady herself. "Oh, yeah! Sorry, I put my ringer off when I'm working," he explained, quickly replying before sliding his phone back into his pocket. "Yeah, I'll help you. Just lemme close up real quick." He effortlessly slid through the parlor, quickly cleaning and putting away what he had to as the young man called after him.

"You don't have to! I'd hate to cause you trouble."

"It's nothing," he easily replied, fishing his keys from his pockets. "I owe Hanasaki a favor, anyway." He led the man out of the shop, quickly locking it behind them before following the man to the flower shop, taking note of the lists of requests lining the counter. "Right, I got the ones with meanings. Get the colors and size ones. Do you know what the flowers here mean?"

"For the most part," he said, glancing through the lists.

"Good. When you're done with the color and size, help out with the meanings you know, okay?" The man nodded and they got to work, silently working alongside each other.

A couple hours later, all of the arrangements were picked up and Akira was leaning back on the counter, letting his breath escape him. "Man, that was the fastest I've had to work since busy days in the beef bowl shop," he commented, running a hand through his hair. The man laughed slightly, equally as worn. "I never got your name, by the way." Surprise floated the man's face, but he responded.

"Sorry about that. I'm Goro Akechi."

"Akira Kurusu," he responded easily, giving the man a nod. "Aren't you that kid detective who retired last year?" Akechi nodded.

"I'm surprised anyone remembers. Public opinion is a fickle thing." Akira snorted, nodding.

"Ain't that the truth. So, why are you working in a flower shop, mister detective?" It had been years since Akira called anyone that, but he refused to let memories cloud the present again.

"I like the atmosphere here," Akechi responded with an obviously fake smile (obvious to Akira, who studied people like learning materials in his free time, anyway). "Hanasaki-san could use the help, anyway."

Akira hummed, but let the subject drop, allowing his mind to briefly wander. "You look tired," he observed. "I know a place with amazing coffee, if you want."

Akechi paused, gazing curiously at the younger man. "I'm often busy..."

"Then I can leave you the address," Akira easily responded, already pulling a pen and small notebook out from behind the counter by reaching over it. "It's not far, and has an atmosphere as great as the coffee. You may get a discount if you mention me." He scribbled an address he knew well on the paper, ripping it out and holding it to the ex-detective.

"Leblanc?"

"I hear it's French," Akira explained, shrugging. "Don't doubt the coffee curry combo till you've tried it, though," he warned, pushing off the desk. He glanced at the clock, noting the time before lifting the apron off of him, hanging it back where he got it. "I'm gonna go. Give it a chance when you've got the time, alright?"

With that, he swept out of the shop.

#persona 5 #akira kusuru #persona 5 akechi #goro akechi #akira x goro

9 notes · View notes

ceescedasticity · 4 years

Text

director’s commentary

Dammit, tumblr, why much you make everything difficult.

Anonymous: Director’s commentary: Chapter four of Echoes in the Void, the conversation after they have to leave the Metaverse?

Oooooh, yes. This. Actually I think I’ll include a little earlier, too…

To recap, Goro started second term at Jikken, where the “evaluation period” was over and things were getting nasty/weird. The second day they held him after school and made him run laps after he reflexively tried to headbutt someone who got in his face; the third day they wanted to know why he wasn’t showing interest in any girls, and he made a cutting remark about their interest in the sexuality of fifteen-year-olds being creepy, and they made him run laps with no shoes, resulting in badly abraded feet.

This probably explained the bastinado rumors, anyway. Those had been rather implausible.

Goro wondered, distantly, whether it was a second offense thing, or they actually found mouthing off more of a problem than attempted head-butts. That seemed like the sort of thing they really ought to explain.

The punishments Jikken is dealing out are completely unreasonable, but their prioritizing of offenses actually isn’t completely illogical. The attempted headbutt was because his instincts felt physically threatened and there was no choice or thinking about it involved. He knew it was a bad idea to make a nasty remark and did anyway. Therefore the second is a worse offense. And they definitely should have explained this.

Afterwards the school nurse was standing by to carefully clean the scrapes and apply antibiotics and bandages and lecture him about taking proper care of the injury.

Idk how many of my Start Again readers read my ‘Close Encounters of the Fourth Kind’ Homestuck fic? Jikken wants to be the goblins. They have all the bad ideas of the goblins about Fixing People, but they’re bad at it.

He couldn’t say what he thought about that. He must not say what he thought about that. Lashing out would make things even worse. Just smile. Just thank her. Just smile.

He was dissociating at least a little to deal with the pain, but having to act grateful about it is what pushed him over the edge into a prolonged episode. He’s done this before – locked himself away behind what is supposed to be Pleasant Goro, but… isn’t, exactly.

Afterwards he wasn’t hungry, so he skipped dinner. No one at the group home asked why he was limping. (Was he even limping? Both feet were equally injured, it wasn’t like he wanted to favor one of them.) His roommates noticed the bandages when he took off his slippers before bed.

“Fuck, look at pretty boy’s feet.”

“What the hell happened?”

“Ask him.”

“You ask him, he’s doing the psycho smile again.”

Goro tries to keep up Pleasant Goro appearances with the group home supervisors, but is really inconsistent about it with his roommates. They therefore both scorn him for being a pretty-boy suck-up and are kinda afraid of him for being vicious if you cross him. They generally don’t mess with him when there’s any chance he’d catch them at it.

(He dreamed blurrily of smiling, smiling as blood ran down the face of the first person he’d felt a connection to since—)

Canon!Akechi wasn’t dissociating the entire time, or for every murder, but that was how he dealt with Shido, and that was how he dealt with killing the closest thing he had to a friend.

The smile stayed in place the whole next day of school, too, through his math teacher accusing him of not paying attention and grilling him on properties of cotangents. It even stayed in place through the nurse checking on his feet and reprimanding him for not changing the bandages himself. But besides that mild scolding he wasn’t in trouble today, so he didn’t have to stay after. Good.

I wrote this and I’m still kind of shocked by the gall they have to scold him about not changing the bandages.

When he met Noir and Niijima — Noir and Queen, she was Queen in the Metaverse — outside the laboratory, Noir put a hand on Queen’s shoulder. “Crow?”

“Yes?”

“Are you… all right?”

“I’m fine, thank you.”

Haru is seeing a lot more of Future Akechi than she ever has before and is on high alert.

It was good to get back to work. Good to solve a puzzle lock with perfectly well-remembered properties of cotangents. When there turned out to be a Battle Fiend waiting behind the door, good to tear its fucking face off—

“What in—”

“Crow! Stand down!”

—with his bare hands it could just die make something else bleed—

The Shadow melted away into nothing, and he slammed a fist on the floor. And again. And again. And again, because at least he could feel it his face was about going numb—

From an outside perspective Goro just went from creepy plastic smile to berserker rage with zero warning. Haru isn’t as shocked as she might be because she knew the creepy plastic smile wasn’t good and she knew what Akechi was capable of, but she still wasn’t expecting attacking a Shadow with his bare hands.

“Amrita drop!”

Goro jolted. Stilled.

Probably Makoto suggested the Amrita drop, because it sure looks like a status effect, and Haru thought it was worth a try. Why did it work, when it wasn’t actually caused by a spell? Maybe because it basically was a status effect? Who knows, cognition is weird.

His hand hurt. His feet hurt. His face hurt. His mask was completely blocking his peripheral vision.

The more isolated and closed-off he is, the more his mask looks like a helmet.

“Did that work?” Queen asked anxiously, somewhere behind him. “If it wasn’t a spell that caused it—”

“I don’t know, I’ve never— Now he’s hyperventilating.”

“No I’m not,” Goro said, or at least tried to. It came out garbled and wheezy.

“I’m going to—”

“Yes, good idea.”

The hallway blurred around him, and then they were outside the Palace. Goho-M.

“Crow?” Noir said. “We’re going back to the real world, and then we’re going to want to move fairly quickly. Is it safe for Queen to take your arm?”

Okay, this is back to the volatile but human Goro who Haru has known since coming back in time, and in clear distress. She still wants to know what the fuck just happened, but she knows who she’s dealing with, now. …And she knows that who she’s dealing with is someone you don’t touch without warning if you can avoid it.

Goro tried to get his breathing under control. “Just. Just a. Minute.” Sit on the ground. Knees up. Head between his knees. Breathe. “Just a minute.”

They gave him the minute.

How novel.

Not sure this needs to be commentary since it’s basically text, but he is not used to people listening to him about his mental/emotional needs.

“All right,” Goro said finally. “Just — slowly.”

Queen did indeed move slowly enough that it didn’t set off any panic responses, and carefully helped him to his feet. “Where are we going to go to talk about this?” she hissed, presumably at Noir. “Should we have gone to a safe room instead?”

“No, I don’t think being in the Metaverse is doing him any good right now,” Noir replied. “I’ve noticed a park about two blocks south — there’s a picnic shelter which shouldn’t be visible from the street. We can talk there.”

Oh joy.

Maybe he could run away instead.

He probably wouldn’t have run away even if he could have, he’s too invested in this group by now, and he trusts them more than anyone else, but he would’ve been tempted. He really doesn’t want to talk about this.

It turned out he could not, in fact, run away, as the second they returned to the real world the distant throbbing in his feet turned to raw agony, and his knees buckled for a second. Niijima had to support him. She didn’t, mercifully, offer to try to carry him.

“Is there something wrong with his—?”

“I guess so, come on, we’ll ask about that, too—”

Goro stared at the sidewalk as they walked and tried not to wonder what they wanted to talk about, exactly. Instead he wondered if it was sweat or blood making the bandages feel damp. It could be sweat. But if it was blood, and he bled through his socks… he hadn’t budgeted for new shoes, this could be a problem.

He’s not exactly dissociating at this point, but he’s not exactly fully engaged with his surroundings, either. Although having to buy new shoes WOULD be a problem for him, so the tangent isn’t out of nowhere.

So when they reached the picnic shelter, he sat down and started taking his shoes off without prompting. “I may need to ask one of you to get me some plastic bags… Good.” It looked like only traces of blood had penetrated the socks, so his shoes were safe. “But I will need some plastic bags. And bandages…”

There was a rather loaded silence.

“What. Happened,” Noir said.

They were not expecting to see blood. Real-world injuries isn’t something either of them has had to deal with a lot.

There was probably some way to avoid the question, but— “Running laps. Without shoes.”

“Without— Does that happen often?” Niijima demanded.

“It can’t be that often per student or people’s feet would toughen up,” Goro said. “I don’t know. Often enough that they sterilize the track frequently, I think.”

“That’s barbaric.”

“Agreed,” Noir said. “But considering we did already see the principal’s cognitions of the teachers vivisecting cognitions of the students, it’s not… unexpected.”

“It’s not unexpected,” Goro agreed.

“What was unexpected was your showing up smiling like some sort of, of creepy talk show host, and then killing a Shadow with your bare hands, in some sort of… something that Amrita Drop apparently brought you out of. I was not expecting that.” Noir crossed her arms, and looked at him. Expectantly.

Aaaaaaand Haru has decided it’s going to be necessary to get him out of that school. Because what the fuck. That’s not normal. That’s not even your standard unacceptable physical discipline, that’s – what the fuck. And clearly it’s bad for Goro in particular, because he still scared her with his Future Akechi impression. Let’s get some answers about that part; the school isn’t as much of a priority because she will remove it from the equation.

…Yeah, it had probably been too much to hope for that that would go unremarked. “That… I wasn't… I wasn’t planning on that. It just… happens sometimes.”

“Happens sometimes?” Noir said incredulously.

“Like… spontaneously?” Niijima asked.

And what a liability he’d be if it did. “Not… exactly. Do you know — I know you know, Noir — how sometimes you have to do something you don’t want to, but you also can’t let on that you don’t want to?” Niijima probably did, too, to a lesser extent.

“Yes…”

I’m not sure whether Goro has never encountered the concept of dissociation or if he refuses to connect it with his PERFECTLY HEALTHY COPING STRATEGY, SHUT UP, IT WORKS.

“Well, there's… a sort of… Sometimes I can… really hit my stride, I guess. Get so it gets easier to just… keep what I’m feeling separate. Keep me separate.” He shrugged uncomfortably. “So that’s good, but then sometimes — not often! — it sort of… overloads. And the overloads are worse in the Metaverse, for whatever reason.”

The purpose of Dissociation Goro is doing things necessary for his goals/purposes that Regular Goro does not want to do or finds too difficult. By ‘overloads’, he mostly means that sometimes Dissociation Goro apparently loses track of the goals and priorities of Regular Goro, and ends up doing unnecessary things.

“Probably the lack of consequences,” Noir said dryly.

“If my subconscious is counting on a lack of consequences for physically tackling Shadows, I’d like a few words with it.”

“…Point.”

It’s mostly that the cognitive world, with its Personas and Shadows running around, already his one’s consciousness a little more spread out than normal; it’s easier for the dissociation driver to get accidentally wired to input from the id or the intrusive thought generator.

“But if it originated in the real world, why did Amrita Drop work?” Niijima wondered. “Did it just shock you out of it? Is it because the… ailment was cognitive to start with?”

Goro shrugged again. “I don’t know. I wouldn’t have expected it to work.”

“Well, it’s good that it did,” Noir said. “Still, it would be better for it not to come up.”

“I'll… I agree, and. And I can try.”

I’m not 100% sure how he’s planning to try, here, without a strategy to get out of Jikken. Dissociation is still an important part of his toolbox of 500 variously functional coping mechanisms. But he doesn’t like going off the rails like that, he really relies on his self-control, and he agrees it’s not a good thing.

#writing babble #start again fic

24 notes · View notes