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parchmentedscrolls · 4 years

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Perhaps the Biggest Illusion (is reality itself)

Fandom: Persona 5 (Royal) Characters: Akira Kurusu, Goro Akechi, Takuto Maruki Pairings: Goro Akechi/Akira Kurusu Words: 3,480

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“A detective and a phantom thief. Despite being enemies, your relationship isn’t based on hatred or ill will . . .” Maruki muses, leaning towards Ren.

We’re rivals, not enemies—the words were already forming on Akira’s lips when Maruki cut him off.

“That’s why I found it so tragic when I learned what happened in Shido’s Palace,” he said, eyes full of pity, and Akira’s mouth froze. How . . . how can he even know about that?

There had been no one—not even Sae knew what had happened in Shido’s Palace, and there was absolutely no way Maruki had been in the Palace at the time. The only ones present had been The Phantom Thieves and Akechi himself. What had transpired that day had been a carefully guarded secret from the public, which could only mean—

He must have found out from . . . the collective unconscious? Akira frowned—that wouldn’t have made sense, because all of the Phantom Thieves had Personas, and couldn’t mingle with the Shadows or whispers of Mementos. None of them would tell Maruki about it so openly either. They wouldn’t even have had the chance to do so. So how did Maruki—

It clicked. He didn’t find out from one of the others. Akira’s throat tightened uncomfortably. He must have found out . . . from me.

It made all too much sense—Akira was the wildcard of the group, he took in and let out Personas and Shadows with ease, gained them access to his mind in exchange for their trust and their power. Hell, he’d done it in Maruki’s Palace.

And . . . what had happened in the boiler room of Shido’s ship wasn’t something small—to Akira, at least. The memories were too vivid, each moment ingrained almost permanently into Akira’s eyes.

The cocking of a gun, venomous words spit from the cognitive Akechi’s lips; the worst words Akechi could possibly have heard in that situation—“you bastard”—as if to sum up what Akechi believed of his existence within a single word.

“So, my final enemy is a puppet version of myself . . .” was all he’d heard the real Akechi say through gritted teeth, as though condemning himself to his fate. Then, denying that choice, “I . . . !”

The sounds of gunshots echoed loudly, followed by a sickening silence.

Akira barely managed to keep himself from flinching. He could still remember the scene as it played out from behind a metal door where he was left helpless to leave Akechi to his fate, to the unfair, cruel world that he was never really given an opportunity to truly fight back against.

It was no wonder Maruki had picked up on it, in retrospect. Is he . . . going to use this against me? By making a reality in which Shido never went that far, in which Akechi was never made to target Wakaba and Okumura in the first place . . .

Akira’s suspicions were all but confirmed with Maruki’s next words: “Say, Kurusu-kun . . . didn’t you regret how things ended with him?”

Akira’s breath hitched in his throat.

Either Maruki didn’t notice, or he didn’t care. “You two came to a deep understanding of one another . . . yet you had no choice but to leave Akechi-kun to his fate.”

At this point, Maruki didn’t even bother feigning sympathy. The fact that there was only eagerness in his expression made Akira’s stomach twist with regret.

He really, really wished he had never opened up to Maruki.

Or maybe he wished he had never given Maruki the option to fidget with the metacognitive world at all. Maybe he could’ve helped Maruki with his assumptions about Rumi, or could have changed his heart earlier.

He could have helped him instead of . . . this happening.

Because really—it was Akira’s fault and Akira’s fault alone for letting Maruki get this far, for giving him the idea to mess with the collective unconscious in the first place.

A chill ran down Akira’s spine. He did his best to suppress it.

“That’s why I created a reality where you two could have a fresh start together,” Maruki finished, looking for all the world like a puppy expecting to be praised and not a tentacle-wielding manipulator of reality.

Not like he could make all of Akira’s real history with Akechi disappear with the snap of a finger.

Not like that was exactly what he had done.

Akira felt queasy.

“I’ll hold onto your glove.”

A gasp, then a chuckle. “After all this, that’s what you have to say? Seriously, you really are . . .”

That was the last thing he’d heard Akechi say to him in Shido’s Palace.

Morgana gasped. “That would mean the Akechi in the real world is . . .”

Is what? . . . Dead? No, that can’t be . . . Maruki doesn’t know that, he doesn’t know that Akechi turned himself in for me on Christmas Eve, he can’t possibly know about that—

“Get what I’m saying?” Maruki asked, all but confirming Morgana’s assumption. His expression still didn’t change when he continued, “I genuinely didn’t want to tell you like this. I didn’t want to make it seem like I’m holding him hostage.

“But no matter what you may think of me, I just want you to accept this reality and move on with your happy lives.”

Can you even . . . really call it reality?

For a moment, he wants to be selfish—if Maruki had in fact brought Akechi back to life, that would mean that the wish he granted it from was undoubtedly Akira’s.

Even if the other Phantom Thieves hadn’t clearly had different wishes that were granted in their own ways, none of them would have wished for Akechi back. None of them had ever really seen him the way Akira did.

No one ever saw Akechi the way Akira did. No one else cared for him enough to want him back.

Not even Akechi himself.

Akira’s thoughts were proven when Akechi takes this moment to speak: “And that matters how, exactly?” Akira looks at him, breath bated as he continues, “Don’t tell me you think dangling my life before us is going to have any impact on our decision.”

From the way he spoke . . . “So . . . you knew?” You knew all the time that you were, what—dead?—and you never said anything, even to me? Akira wished he could be angry, be upset, even hurt.

But he understood exactly why Akechi hadn’t said it—he’d known that Akira would probably jump at the opportunity to save him. He’d known that, and had kept it from Akira . . . because he didn’t want to be saved if he wasn’t the one choosing it.

“Well,” Akechi said, raising his left hand to his chin (a pose Akira had noted that he still made even after dropping the Detective Prince act), “I lacked conclusive evidence.” He turned directly to face Akira and Morgana, before continuing, “But after I fought against you all, I had a gap in my memory that ended with meeting up with Akira again.”

He must be referring to last month, when he came to Leblanc, but . . . then, what about Christmas?

Unfettered, Akechi doesn’t bring that up at all. “There were also the cases of Wakaba Isshiki and President Okumura . . . of course I’d find all of that suspicious.” His tone conveyed that it would have been stupid for Maruki to think that Akechi of all people could have been duped by the false reality.

“I see,” Maruki nodded diplomatically, then, “I had a feeling the truth of the matter still wouldn’t dissuade you, Akechi-kun . . .” A pause. “But how about you, Kurusu-kun?”

“Is that . . . why you came to Leblanc when you would have assumed I was alone?” Akira asked quietly. “To ask me to make a decision . . . all on my own after revealing this to me?”

He knew exactly what Maruki was trying to get him to do by doing it—coming alone, for what he’d expected would be a one-on-one conversation in which he could use Akechi as bait for Akira.

Maruki ignored the question. “‘You think dangling my life before us going to have any impact on our decision?’ That’s what Akechi-kun said a moment ago. If that’s how you see it at this point, I’m fine with it . . .” Maruki sighed. “But I’m still going to ask you, one last time: Will you accept the reality I create for you?”

Maruki wasn’t stupid. He was a psychologist, for crying out loud. He knew what he was doing, he knew that holding Akechi against him—the one person he couldn’t save—would do numbers on Akira.

And the scariest part, perhaps, was that Maruki knew just how hard it was for Akira to refuse.

“You were the guiding light to my research. You showed me the way so I could make my dream into reality. I have nothing but gratitude for you—not a single ounce of ill will. That’s why I wanted you of all people to understand . . .”

Akira hunched into himself a little, unable to meet Maruki’s eyes. If I had never done anything about Maruki’s research in the first place . . . I wouldn’t have to choose whether Akechi lives or dies . . .

Maruki, finally sensing his discomfort, stood up. “Perhaps I shouldn’t ask you for an answer on the spot like that. I’ll be going now.”

Akira’s mind was still churning, bitter and hurt by the consequences of his own actions unto Maruki and Akechi. Still, he reached into his pocket. “You forgot something,” he said dully, sliding the calling card Yusuke and Akechi had prepared together across the table.

Maruki smiled, picking it up. “Ah, that’s right. I’ve heard your calling.” Akira could sense a slight shift in the atmosphere the moment Maruki turned his back to him. “And, about my question—let’s do this: I’ll be waiting in the Palace tomorrow, just as I promised. If you still haven’t changed your mind by then, we’ll meet there. But if you don’t show, I’ll take that to mean you’ve accepted my reality.” This time, Maruki looked at Akechi before leaving. “See you.”

The closing chime of Leblanc’s bell echoed a little too loudly.

Morgana shuffled in his seat. “What are you gonna do?” he looked at Akira, concern palpable in his gaze.

Akira bit his lip, patting Morgana on the head lightly. Of course Morgana would ask; Morgana was the only one who could come close to understanding just how much Akechi meant to Akira.

Before he could answer, Akechi interrupted. “I’d like to speak with Akira,” he said, pointedly requesting Morgana to leave.

“Akechi . . .” Morgana mumbled, “Gotcha.” The cat nodded, and Akira could have sworn there was a flicker of relief across Akechi’s face—but it was gone as soon as it had come. “I’ll leave the decision up to you, Akira—let me know when you’ve reached an answer.” He didn’t wait another moment before slipping out of Leblanc, probably to the Sakura house.

And then it was just Akira alone with Goro.

Akira stood up next to the counter—next to Goro.

Goro doesn’t look at him. “I will carve my own path for myself.” His words were calm, weighted carefully. “I refuse to accept a reality concocted by someone else, stuck under their control for the rest of my days.”

Akira understood. After the hell of the life he was sure that Goro had had, he couldn’t deny the importance of freedom to him, just when he’d finally gotten it.

He also didn’t miss the hint of wistfulness in Goro’s voice. But if what Maruki had said was really true . . . “Are you sure?” Akira asks, the words out of his mouth before he could stop them.

Goro scoffed. “Why wouldn’t I be?” A pause. “Don’t ask such stupid questions after all this time.”

After all this time, Akira parroted in his head. The same thing he said when—

The sound of a metal wall slamming down echoed too loudly in his head.

Goro relented a little, nodding. “All you have to do is stick to your guns and challenge Maruki.” His eyes narrowed a little, and Akira braced himself for what he knew would be a challenge to follow up on it. “Or are you really so spineless that you’d fold over some bullshit, trivial threat on my life?”

Something—anger, probably, with some indignation—bubbled deeply within Akira, forcing itself out of his mouth. “This isn’t trivial!” he shouted, his hands moving to grab Goro’s collar.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, he realised he couldn’t the last time he got this worked up over something.

Goro narrowed his eyes in a piercing glare. “It is,” he hissed, and that was the pushing point for Akira.

“No, it’s not!” he shouted—when was the last time he’d shouted?—and pulled Goro closer, leaving barely a few centimetres space between them. Somewhere, it registered in Akira’s mind Goro still has about an inch of height on him, highlighted by the way he glanced downwards to meet Akira’s eyes.

Suddenly, it felt like too much, all at once. Even though Akira was the one to initiate this contact, this closeness, he hadn’t been fully prepared for it. Goro’s silence; the tension between them; the newfound lack of pretenses and metaphors and mind games and double entendre—

It was all too direct. Akira wasn’t a straightforward person. He preferred to make concise but unassuming statements to let the person he was talking to draw their own conclusions. He stayed in the background, blending in with the shadows.

Akechi wasn’t a straightforward person either. He was more the type to say exactly what he meant under a layer of barely decipherable comparisons, making subtle but clearly pointed gestures towards his goals. This was something so wholly new to both of them, Akira was sure.

He also didn’t know how to handle Goro’s sharp gaze searing into his eyes, even through the thick lenses of his glasses. The urge to retreat, to hide away behind another mask was almost overwhelming.

Akira wasn’t used to being seen like this, like himself at his rawest at all.

Something only Goro could see, apparently.

Instead of hiding, Akira buried his face into Goro’s scarf, tears welling up in his eyes that he didn’t want to show.

“Akira—”

“Why can’t you understand,” Akira said quietly into the scarf, “just how important you are to me?” The last words were barely a hoarse whisper, but he knew Goro had heard them nonetheless.

And for once, Goro Akechi had no comeback.

Akira raised his head again, seeing clear conflict in Goro’s eyes. Not hesitation, not rejection, but . . . something akin to surprise.

“I never told Maruki my wish,” Akira admitted. “I think he found it on its own, through Mementos. I didn’t know this was my wish until now.”

“Me not being dead?” Goro was clearly trying to be sharp, but there was no bite in his voice.

Akira shook his head. “No,” he said quietly, one hand reaching up to touch Goro’s hair lightly as the other boy’s breath caught. “A chance for us to meet again with nothing keeping you away. It . . . was selfish.”

“All wishes are.” Goro’s eyes were distant, but Akira couldn’t help but feel like this was perhaps the closest Goro had ever really been.

“Akechi,” Akira said, voice barely even audible to his own ears, “what do you think . . . you would have wished for?”

Goro bit his lip. “Nothing Maruki could have granted.” He didn’t elaborate. If only we had met a few years earlier, Akira recalled, wondering if that would have been it.

More importantly . . . his hand was still on Goro’s face.

In a split-second decision, Akira lifted his other hand to tuck a lock of hair behind Goro’s ear, then used it to cup his cheek and look him in the eyes. “I . . . I’m glad you’re here now, you know?”

Goro shuddered slightly in Akira’s hands, leaning into the touch. Akira briefly wondered when the last time Goro had felt this kind of affection was.

“If I’m really here at all,” Goro whispered.

Akira shook his head slightly, moving close enough to Goro that he could feel his breath on his nose.

“I’m a bit offended you think so little of yourself that you expected me to believe you’re dead,” Akira murmured, parroting Goro’s own words from a month prior.

Goro almost shook with disbelief. “You . . . you really are . . .”

Akira, admittedly, wasn’t paying too much attention to Goro’s shock. Instead, he found himself tracing a line over Goro’s cheekbone with his thumb, reveling in the way that each touch made Goro shudder.

“Akira, this isn’t . . .”

“Please, Goro,” Akira whispered in a way that he hadn’t ever before, his voice low and desperate, wanting nothing more than to just stay in this moment forever. “Just let me have this, for now.”

“I need your own answer first,” Goro hummed softly, clearly appreciating the touch but still refusing to give into it. “I need to hear you say it.” Because saying it would make it real in a world where nothing else was.

It was one of the things Akira truly loved about Goro: how no matter what, he would not waver, under any pressure, under any temptation.

And it was because of that that he found himself saying without hesitation, “We’re stopping Maruki,” and Akira could feel tension leave Goro’s body, could see his eyes soften.

This close, Akira could see Goro’s eyes so clearly—the layers upon layers of deep russet, almost honey-coloured in Leblanc’s warm lamplight Eyes that still burned with a furious flame of determination that only cemented in Akira’s head that Goro was alive; that this, at least, could be real; that Maruki was lying.

There were barely a couple of centimetres between them now, and Akira didn’t know who moved first, but in the next moment, Akira’s lips were on Goro’s in the softest, sweetest of kisses.

Akira didn’t quite know how to describe the kiss—it was gentle, to a degree, tender and careful (dare he say, loving?), but that tenderness stoked the flames of impatience, of heavy desire., and tension melted away after so long of being apart.

It was like two halves being reunited into a single, proper whole.

It felt right, and Akira knew for sure now that Goro was alive, because no dead man could express the same amount of passion as Goro Akechi, his sworn rival, his other half, the only person who could really see him when no one else could.

Not even Maruki could fake something like that.

“Akira,” Goro whispered, finally pulling away, “this isn’t . . .”

Akira shook his head. “It’s real here, you’re real, I’m real, and I’m not giving up on you.”

Goro didn’t say anything.

“Goro,” Akira continued, “you know, Morgana said something when we defeated that false god. He told us that the whole world is a product of cognition. There’s no such thing as a ‘real world’, but what each person sees and feels is what shapes reality. That’s . . . what Maruki made use of.”

Akira took a deep breath, lifting Goro’s left gloved hand and placing it on his chest, right over his heart, which felt like it was beating at a million miles an hour. “This is real. Something that can’t be changed. Mona . . . he was alive because we believed him to be. That’s how he came back, even after the Metaverse disappeared.”

“I wondered,” Goro admitted quietly.

“So that’s why I’m so sure that after all this . . . things will go back to the way they should be.” Akira looked down, not quite able to meet Goro’s eyes, before continuing, “And besides . . . the thought of losing you again— scares me.”

Goro slowly removed his hand from Akira’s chest, drawing it upwards, lifting Akira’s face to look him in the eye. “That’s why,” he said, and Akira could feel the determination in Goro’s voice, “I will never accept this form of reality. I’m done being manipulated. If I live or die, I want it to be on my own terms.”

Akira could feel his eyes stinging as he nodded.

Goro’s gaze softened slightly. “Let’s go back . . . to our true reality.”

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parchmentedscrolls · 4 years

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For My Sake, Not Yours

My piece for the Shuake Big Bang 2020!

Fandom: Persona 5 Characters: Goro Akechi, Akira Kurusu, Sae Niijima Pairings: Goro Akechi/Akira Kurusu Words: 7,512

Read on AO3

!! Please check the tags for potential triggers!

Check out Aleks’s superb art for it here!

Tmp, tmp, tmp, tmp.

Goro’s footsteps are too loud in his ears.

Tmp, tmp, tmp, tmp.

His shoes clack too hard on the floor.

Tmp, tmp, tmp, tmp.

His heels slam too forcefully into the ground.

Tmp, tmp, tmp, tmp.

The balls of his feet press too deep into his shoes.

Tmp, tmp, tmp, tmp.

His hands are too tired from practicing the motions of the gun.

Tmp, tmp, tmp, tmp.

Too much, all at once.

Tmp, tmp, tmp . . .

Everything fades away.

He doesn’t notice Sae until she’s right in front of him. “Akechi-kun?” she asks, startling him into consciousness.

Of course, he doesn’t let his composure fade. He can’t afford to, not with what he’s meant to do.

Momentarily, he’s grateful for his gloves—if it weren’t for the stiff leather, his trigger finger would have twitched.

His jaw is too tight as he forces a smile, hands automatically moving to adjust his tie. “Why do you seem so surprised?”

Sae shakes her head, clearly stunned. “I needed my director to step in to get access, and I was directly responsible for this case. How did you get approval?”

Goro’s movements are jaunty and stiff, but his voice remains calm and even. “For the same reason you did. I am heading up the investigation team, after all.” He quirks an eyebrow, but keeps his head lowered in feigned thought. “It’s only natural that I’d get the right to interrogate our culprit as well, don’t you think?”

“They assigned you command?” Her sheer, unfiltered shock was almost comical, right down to the break in her voice—if it hadn’t been for the situation at hand, maybe he would have laughed.

Then again, Sae Niijima is one of the few people who still has his respect, despite everything. He can’t bring it upon himself to be too cruel to her. “That was a joke, of course,” he replies with forced lightness, finally looking her in the eyes. “I’m merely here to assist with the public security interrogation.” He almost tilts his head to glance around, but he can’t risk allowing his body to shake—not if he’s meant to follow through with complete ease.

He has to do this.

Instead, he continues without faltering: “I am surprised it’s this far underground, though . . .” Careful, probing. “There aren’t any others incarcerated here, yes?” No one will be able to hear what happens at all? Nobody will ever know if things got a little violent . . .

He realizes a moment too late that he said the last sentence aloud. His throat tightens. Hopefully, hopefully, Sae won’t pay too much attention to it. One more slip up and I may well end up getting caught before I can—

“If I remember correctly,” Sae says, thankfully ignoring his (frankly, quite concerning) statement, “didn’t you say there was another culprit besides the Phantom Thieves?”

Goro dusts the front of his jacket. “That was but a lie I spread to set them up,” he says, praying she’ll miss the slight crack in his voice—that, or that she’d attribute it to him still being in his teens.

He needs to get a hold of himself.

Or preferably, distance himself altogether.

He recalls Sae’s Shadow, twisted with envy; how willing she was to put people’s lives on the line for the sake of being able to prosecute someone for the Phantom Thieves’ case, just for the sake of a promotion.

It works—he no longer feels as guilty about his lie. He laughs lightly into his fists. “Oh, I’m sorry! I forgot that I had deceived you too, Sae-san.” He can’t shake the venom from his voice.

Goro decides he doesn’t care. “After all, if you wish to trick your enemies, you must first trick your allies.”

Sae frowns, almost disappointed. “So it was you,” she says quietly.

What . . . ? Goro feels his expression harden, but he doesn’t respond.

“You’re the one who sold out the Phantom Thieves.”

Just how much did Kurusu tell her? Goro was under the impression that he would be the last person to reveal the identities of anyone he’d worked with. He was too loyal, he cared too much about his friends to sell them out.

More importantly, why does Sae sound hurt?

His voice comes out like steel: “Is there a problem?”

She reaches into her pocket, pulling out a familiar phone. That’s Kurusu’s. “Akechi-kun,” she says, voice even as she meets his eyes, “does this phone look familiar to you?”

Of course it does. But why are you showing it to me? “Hm? Excuse me?”

The next moment, he feels a sharp pain run through his head, like he’s been shoved underwater for a fraction of a second. Like . . . a distortion, of sorts.

Robin and Loki stir in his mind.

Nice try, Kurusu.

But you can’t fool me that easily. He tilts his head and looks at Sae, all innocent curiosity. “What is this phone?” The Nav app . . . so they knew?

“It belonged to the leader of the Phantom Thieves. I believe you’ll need it for your investigation.”

He shakes his head and forces a smile. He doesn’t like it. He wants to get out of his head again. He’s feeling too many things again. He doesn’t want to touch Kurusu’s phone.

And besides, the logician in him (the only part of his heart that’s truly awake right now, perhaps) murmurs, there’s a chance Futaba Isshiki can have Kurusu’s phone tapped.

“Not personally,” he feels himself saying from far away. “I was acting alongside the Phantom Thieves myself, remember?” It’s echoing in his head and he really needs Sae to be gone and he needs to be gone and if she just leaves he can finally finally finally get back out of his head again—

If he’s shaking, his body tilting forward and back ever so slightly, he doesn’t know, and Sae doesn’t tell him.

“True. This is undoubtedly a great accomplishment,” she says, voice flat. “Good luck in there.” And finally, finally, she leaves, and the second she’s gone, Goro can feel his mind relax, slipping into the comfortable nothingness that accompanies most of the jobs that he orders.

A cursory glance confirms to Goro that he is indeed in a cognitive world; the panels on the wall and the tiles on the floor are more muted, the numbers on the keypads around the doors ever so slightly blurred; the flooring under his feet like air when he steps down on it, like there’s no gravity pulling him down.

The numbness in his fingertips is already spreading across his arms by the time he reaches the door. The guard posted outside it is standing there, almost unmoving. He knows it’s one of Shido’s men.

“May I ask that you accompany me? Going in unarmed to interrogate a murderer makes me uncomfortable . . .” he trails off, every syllable rehearsed to sound innocent and concerned.

The guard just nods as he opens the door and steps inside, and in a practised motion, Goro reaches forward, pulls his gun from his holster, and shoots the guard with it, watching as he collapses beside the table that Kurusu is slumped over, covered in bruises and blood and scratches.

Something inside him pounds at the stone wall Goro’s built around his heart, shaking the all-encompassing numbness he’s been feeling since Sae’s Shadow fell.

You knew they would do this.

Not to this extent.

Liar. You know what the police are like.

And even though Goro knows it’s only a cognitive being, with no autonomous thoughts and superimposed emotions, a sharp pain cuts through the numbness where he bites his lip. You planned this, stop being ridiculous.

Shido planned this.

You are Shido’s lackey, you are his henchman, you are his gun, you are his knife, his armour, his son. You are him.

Do I have to be?

A searing pain manages to break through the wall, and it finally crumbles. Goro’s carefully mimicked smile of confidence drops to reveal a bitter, mournful scowl.

He’ll know if you don’t kill him. He’ll be able to tell.

Goro doesn’t know if it’s truth or paranoia, but he grits his teeth, raises the gun once more, and shoots the false Kurusu in the head. Blood seeps down slowly, trickling between his eyes over the left side of his face.

It’s only when Goro tastes copper in his mouth that he realises that he’s biting his lip.

Can’t say I didn’t kill him now.

He exhales shakily, stuffing the gun into the cold, stiff hand of Sae’s cognition of Kurusu, even as he dematerialises in his hands. Goro can’t help but feel that something about watching Kurusu’s helpless form disintegrate at his touch is sickeningly symbolic.

You’re doing it for Shido?

What choice do I have?

More than you might think.

Goro stops. If Kurusu did have a plan to get out of here alive, and it involved Goro killing a cognitive copy of him, there has to be some way that he planned on escaping.

And, from what Sae’s just told him, it involves convincing her.

Which means he won’t need to kill Kurusu after all.

You don’t have to do everything Shido says. When you tell him the deed is done, just recall how easy it was to down the cognitive copy—

I don’t have to do everything for him.

I’m tired of being a puppet.

He makes up his mind, his heart set with new resolve, and takes out his phone, finding the Nav app on and activated. If I had taken my phone out, for any reason whatsoever, their entire plan would’ve failed. Besides, did they really think I wouldn’t notice that I was stepping into the Metaverse? Are the Phantom Thieves that stupid, or just that willing to put their leader’s life in danger?

He casts one more glance at the empty interrogation room, and deactivates the MetaNav, watching as Sae’s mild cognitive distortion falls away to show the actual Kurusu, sitting at the interrogation room table, smirking as though he doesn’t realise that the reason Goro Akechi is standing right in front of him is to kill him with no remorse.

He’s lucky I won’t.

He’d be dead otherwise.

He may not have the guard’s gun this time, but his own is within the inside of his blazer, next to the silencer, carefully tucked away.

He sneers at Kurusu. “You thought I wouldn’t notice?”

Kurusu, beaten and bloody as he is, manages to keep the smile up, but his face twitches a little from the pain. “We were hoping.”

His composure irritates Goro more than anything else. “And now that I’ve gotten to the real you, what do you plan on doing?”

Kurusu tilts his head, the insufferable, ever confident leader he is. “Convince you to not shoot me in the head?” he asks, as cocky as ever, lifting his left arm to make a finger gun and point it at Goro. Goro doesn’t miss the exhausted tremble in his arm. “You haven’t gotten to me yet.”

“I could flick you in the forehead and you would be out cold. I could take all the time I like, could enjoy watching your head splatter across the table, and you would be defenseless throughout it.”

“But— you aren’t,” Kurusu chuckles weakly, even though his eyelids are already drooping.

Shido’s face flashes in Goro’s mind, smug and accomplished. “Just consider yourself lucky that I’m not giving him the victory of getting rid of you.” I’m doing this for my sake, not yours.

Kurusu’s expression briefly switches to confusion as Goro takes off his blazer, steps around the table, and places it over Kurusu’s shoulders, his touch deft and gentle enough to ensure he doesn’t agitate any potential places for injury.

“Akechi—”

“Quiet.” Goro’s voice is cold and flat, leaving no room for argument as he hoists Kurusu up onto his shoulders, looping one of his arms around him, while Kurusu’s other hand grips at the edges of Akechi’s blazer, holding it tightly shut in front of his chest.

“I’m assuming any cameras here have been disabled if you were planning to get out. That, or Oracle has their feeds hacked.”

Kurusu nods weakly, not specifying which one was correct. Instead, he just drops his head against Goro, his face pressing into Goro’s neck.

Under any other circumstances, Goro might have appreciated the display of vulnerability and the subconscious trust.

He has half a mind to tell Kurusu to play dead—with his hands occupied supporting him, he won’t be able to get them out of the room and provide a suitable explanation as to why he’s taking him outside alive.

“How did you plan on getting out of here?” he asks Kurusu, not wanting to waste time speculating while the other boy looks like he’s halfway off to a drugged dreamland.

“Sae . . . gonna come back. ’Taba’s . . . tellin’ her evrrthinn . . .”

“Right,” Goro says, shifting his position so Kurusu can lean on him without straining his already injured neck further. Instead, Kurusu just buries his face deeper into Goro’s neck, hiding under a curtain of his hair.

Briefly relieved that he isn’t ticklish, Goro shifts a little, giving him some leeway to open the door. He figures he can, of course, shoot the guard like he had done with the cognitive one, but it’ll likely be too much of a mess to deal with, especially if Sae is to come back here like Kurusu says she is.

And if he wants to make things work; wants to get through this with minimal impediments, the only reasonable course of action is to make it seem as though he had no real intention of killing Kurusu all along, that it was all a ruse to fool Shido while conveniently taking a small inconvenience out of commission.

“Kurusu,” he says, “my phone is in the left pocket. Take it out and activate the Nav, to Sae-san’s Palace.”

Kurusu nods, shakily pulls it out—it isn’t locked, much to the Goro’s relief—and opens the MetaNav, mumbling the keywords to Sae’s Palace in it.

The same sharp flash and following numbness ripple once again, and the interrogation room warps briefly before settling. The cognitive guard and Kurusu had both already dematerialised.

Goro wonders, briefly, why the cognitive Kurusu had bled. In every Palace he’d been to, cognitives dematerialised the moment they were ‘killed’. Perhaps Sae-san’s cognition is a touch more realistic than most of the other people whose hearts he’s been into?

All aside, it’s for the best that both cognitives are gone now. Kurusu’s state right now is fragile enough as it is.

Goro’s pleased to note that the door to the interrogation room itself is still wide open. “Come on, Kurusu. One step at a time.” He notes with acute awareness that while he’s no longer softening his tone, it isn’t devoid of concern.

Eventually, the two manage to make their way to the elevator. Sae-san will probably intercept us before we leave the station . . . then getting Kurusu back to Leblanc is in her hands, he thinks, watching Kurusu slowly disentangle himself and prop himself up against a wall. In the meantime . . .

He pulls out his phone, dialing a number he knew like the back of his hand. “Shido-san,” he says, looking Kurusu directly in the eyes, “my job is complete.”

Kurusu’s eyes widen, and Goro can see him trying to figure out exactly what’s going on, noting the name of the aggravator. Goro puts the phone on speakerphone, unable to fight the smug grin that forms as he thinks of just how weak Masayoshi Shido really is. It’s so easy to put him on speaker in front of the Phantom Thieves’ leader that it’s comical.

And besides, there’s one more thing he needs to confirm.

“I’ve told you not to call me by name,” Shido hisses, but Goro isn’t paying attention.

Instead, he’s looking at Kurusu, whose body has gone completely stiff. Any sense of exhaustion is gone, and Kurusu appears to be completely alert. I was right. Kurusu definitely recognises Shido. His voice, at the very least.

“Regardless,” Shido says, regaining his composure, “all that’s left is to deal with the remnants.”

Kurusu frowns, clearly suspicious, but from the look in his eyes, Goro can tell that his head is clouding again.

Goro sighs. “The continued deaths of these teenagers would be a bit much, don’t you think?” And would be highly suspicious as well. His paranoia may have been what’s kept him in high regard until now, but it’s astounding that it hasn’t bitten him back yet.

Still, though, pandering to him is necessary for now . . . “I considered making it appear they had a falling out . . . but that would only amplify public frenzy.” A pause. “They’re still mere teenagers. They’ll barely even be noticed by the public, Phantom Thieves or not.”

“Is there any possibility they’ll want to avenge their leader?”

“No chance,” Goro says airily. “They’re nothing but cattle anyway; they have no backbone without his guidance.”

Shido asks him a few more questions, all of which receive glib and pointed responses. At one point, Shido insists that Goro should take care of Morgana as well, to which Goro explains that killing a cat of all things would be ridiculous, as though he’s talking to a petulant child.

He feels so powerful, so in control of Shido that it’s positively exhilarating. That it’s so easy to expose such a powerful and atrocious man to Kurusu, who, despite everything, is staring at Goro with a ghost of a smile.

An excuse or two later, followed by a short update on the SIU director’s inevitable fate, Goro ends the call. The moment the rush of power fades, he’s filled with the familiar disgust and nausea he always feels whenever he talks to Shido.

“What was that?” Kurusu asks, clearly bewildered, but before Goro can even open his mouth to respond, the elevator doors open.

Kurusu doesn’t press for an answer. Instead, he tries to stand up on his own, and stumbles into the elevator.

“Kurusu, you’ll injure yourself further.” Goro’s voice is firm as he shuffles closer to Kurusu, offering his shoulder and back as a means for him to rest.

Kurusu’s mind is addled enough that he doesn’t hesitate, wobbling slightly as he steps toward Goro and almost collapses into him. “Mmm.”

A small moment of repositioning later, Kurusu is completely leaning on Goro, his head is once again buried in the crook of Goro’s neck—something that would have earned him a light smack upside the head if it weren’t for the situation. Instead, Goro’s gloved hand finds its way to cup the nape of his neck, before his fingers thread gently through Kurusu’s hair.

The tenderness of the skin beneath his glove, coupled with the way Kurusu flinches into Goro’s neck is enough to determine that there must have been plenty of head trauma involved with the officers. Disgusting scum. Goro makes a brief note to find out the names of the officers.

It’s not like he doesn’t know how to change hearts now.

It’s at this moment that the elevator doors open, revealing Sae Niijima standing impatiently outside it.

Goro finds her gape and sheer disbelief almost worth it—he’s sure it’s a sight as it is: the half-broken, barely conscious leader of the Phantom Thieves clutching the Detective Prince’s blazer around him as he nuzzles into his neck and hair.

It must be all the more of a shock to Sae herself, who’s come back in this direction with the expectation that Goro’s there to kill Kurusu, only to find their arms latched around each other.

“Huh—but—Alibaba said—” She shakes her head, and Goro files away that name for later use. Alibaba is Futaba-chan, huh? “What on Earth are you doing, Akechi-kun?” she asks, eyes narrowed.

Goro doesn’t bother trying to put on the usual act. “Frankly, I'm rather disappointed that you would have such little faith in me, Sae-san.” His eyes harden. “However, the longer we wait here, the less chance Kurusu has of leaving alive.”

Sae, to her credit, seems wary of Goro’s sudden change in both attitude and tone, but she nods. “Alright,” she says, and gently lays a hand on Kurusu’s shoulder.

He shudders at the touch, gripping Goro’s shoulder tighter and hiding his face completely in Goro’s hair. “Kurusu,” Goro says softly, threading his fingers lightly across the younger boy’s scalp, “Sae-san’s here to help.”

Goro feels Kurusu’s eyelashes flutter briefly against his throat before he relents, shifting his weight so that Sae can support his other arm. Before Goro knows it, the three of them are outside, Sae helping Kurusu into the backseat of a car.

Feeling more self conscious now that the imminent danger is gone, Goro hesitated, using his ‘nice voice’ again. “I’ll . . . be taking my leave now.”

“Oh no you won’t,” Sae says, a firm hand falling on his shoulder, steering him into the car beside Kurusu. “You, Akechi-kun, owe me a complete explanation.”

He can feel himself deflate. “Just as I expected of you, Sae-san.”

Sae doesn’t smile. Goro doesn’t blame her, either.

Looking at Kurusu, Goro’s sure he’s on the verge of falling asleep, and when his head tilts to fall onto Goro’s shoulder, he doesn’t object.

He directs his attention to Sae instead, who’s seated herself in the driver’s seat. “Will the Phantom Thieves of Hearts be there when we arrive?” He fidgets with his gloves for a moment, then decides to take them off altogether.

“I’m not sure,” Sae just says, eyes on the road. “But you owe all of those kids an explanation as well.”

“So I take it you’re aware of their identities?”

“I have my suspicions, but Kurusu-kun neither confirmed nor denied them.”

“Is that so?”

Goro sees Sae’s lips purse in the mirror. “From what I’ve gathered, Akechi-kun,” she says, taking a sharp left, “you’re the one perpetrating the psychotic breakdown incidents, and possibly even the mental shutdown ones, too.”

For once, Goro doesn’t know how to respond.

“So it’s true . . .” she sighs, then meets his eyes in the rear-view mirror. “Knowing you, though, there’s more to this than you’re telling me, isn’t there?”

“Yes.” Goro doesn’t elaborate.

Kurusu turns a little, angling his head on Goro’s shoulder so he can look him in the eye. “You said . . . sum’n called . . . Shido?”

Sae is alert immediately. “Shido as in . . . ?”

Goro sighs. “Yes, Masayoshi Shido, the current minister of financial affairs and founder of the United Future Party, and a candidate for Japan’s next prime minister.”

A pause, before he continues: “Also, the one who orchestrates and takes requests for the psychotic breakdown incidents, in exchange for political and financial support, using the Metaverse as per the cognitive psience research he had Wakaba Isshiki undertake several years ago.”

“Those are connected to him as well?”

“He stole the research from a university graduate and had Isshiki work on them herself, and was even able to supply to her the finances and privacy she needed to conduct her experiments. He was even able to silence any concerns regarding the ethical aspects.”

“Ethical aspects . . . ?” Sae echoes, clearly confused.

“But . . .” Kurusu coughs. “But the psychotic breakdowns . . . how did you . . . ? None’v us can . . .”

“Of course you couldn’t figure it out,” Goro says, taking care to lower Kurusu’s head back onto his shoulder. “That’s an ability unique to my Persona.”

“But . . . Rob’n Hood . . .”

“I’ll explain it later. You’re in no state to retain any information like this.”

Kurusu nods, and falls asleep on Goro’s shoulder almost immediately.

“It’s impressive that he’s comfortable enough to sleep . . .” Sae murmurs, the rest of her sentence going unspoken: Considering he believed you were going to kill him for almost a month.

“For what it’s worth, Sae-san,” Goro says, steeling himself so the lie slips from his mouth like smooth honey, “I never intended on actually killing Kurusu. The Phantom Thieves seem to make a habit of acting without having all the information they need.”

He pauses, before continuing, “Well, then again, there would have been no way for them to know my true intentions, but it’s rather irritating to be judged for your actions by someone unaware of what’s going on.”

Sae, at the very least, seems to believe him. “The fact that he’s here in the car is enough for me to believe that there’s some truth to what you’re saying, I suppose,” she says carefully, “if you were lying, he wouldn’t be alive now. But that doesn’t explain what’s been going on with you, Akechi-kun. Were you the one who killed Wakaba Isshiki and Kunikazu Okumura?”

“Yes, I was,” he says plainly. There’s neither any reason nor point to refuting it.

Sae looks disappointed. “I see.”

“Now that you know this, what are you going to do about it?” Goro asks curtly, not bothering to waste time building up to the question. It’s something of a relief to be able to finally drop the pretenses in front of Sae.

“Nothing as of yet. I presume that the Phantom Thieves will be more adept with the questions they’d like to ask you. And if Shido is behind this as you say he is, your testimony will be vital in having him behind bars.”

Goro blinks a few times. “You’re— you’re not going to arrest me?”

A shadow of a smile crosses Sae’s face for the first time. “Not until you and I have a long talk about what exactly compelled you to get involved with this in the first place.”

“Al . . . alright,” Goro says, not having expected her to take it so well. After a moment’s pause, he bites his lip, then asks, “Sae-san?”

“Yes?”

“Could we stop by my apartment on the way? There are a few things there that could prove vital to yours and the Thieves’ investigations.”

After a moment of debating it with herself, Sae agrees, on the condition that he stays within her sight at all times. Unnecessary given the circumstances, but she does have good reason to be suspicious. He can’t really blame her.

When the car stops outside an apartment complex in Kichijoji, Kurusu finally stirs, blinking slowly. “’Course you live in Kichijoji,” he says, seemingly able to string words together properly, at least.

“Go back to sleep, Joker,” Goro just says. “Sae-san and I just need to pick up a few documents.”

Something shifts within Kurusu’s eyes. “Wanna come too.”

“Kurusu, you’re injured and exhausted. You really should wait in the car until—”

“Come on, Goro,” he mumbles, clutching onto Goro’s arm. “Let me see your house.” Kurusu looks like he’s attempting to bat his eyelashes flirtatiously, but scrunches his eyes too hard for it to work.

Goro raises an eyebrow at him, and Kurusu’s head falls. “Don’t wanna be alone yet,” he admits quietly, and something—guilt, perhaps?—bubbles in Goro’s gut, popping with an ugly heaviness.

Which is ridiculous, because he shouldn’t be feeling guilty at all. Kurusu is alive, Shido is none the wiser, and Sae isn’t completely shunning him.

His fingers trace the lines of Kurusu’s face gently, thumbing a bruise over his cheekbone. Kurusu shudders, but leans into Goro’s touch, trapping his hand between his face and neck. “Please,” Kurusu whispers, and shifts Goro’s hand slightly, and—

Oh.

With the lightness of a feather, Kurusu’s lips place a small kiss on the heel of Goro’s palm.

And somewhere, in a part of his heart he thought he’d buried under layers and layers of time and determination and numbness—

He inhales sharply.

—stars explode.

For a few moments, it feels almost like time stops, with Goro’s hand clasped tightly in Kurusu’s, his fingers pressed in the crook of Kurusu’s neck and his palm warmed by the soft heat of Kurusu’s lips.

“Please?” Kurusu finally angles his gaze up to meet Goro’s, and his resolve crumbles.

“Not to interrupt the two of you, but we’re running low on time and Kurusu-kun will need to rest as soon as possible,” Sae cuts in, already waiting outside the apartment complex.

“Fine,” Goro grits out, lifting Kurusu into a bridal carry, solely for the sake of convenience, because if he knows one thing about Akira Kurusu, it’s that he’s just too damn stubborn to back down. At the very least, like this, he can keep Kurusu from doing anything too stupid.

He tries to ignore the heat that flares in his face when Kurusu’s eyes light up and he wraps his arms around Goro. Aren’t you being too careless? You should know that I had every intention of killing you up until less than an hour ago, so why are you so . . . so trusting?

Then again, it’s not like Goro can exactly get away with it in broad daylight, right in front of Sae.

As though he’s read Goro’s mind through his expression alone, Kurusu mumbles, “F’you were gonna kill me, you’d have done it earlier,” and promptly falls asleep with his head resting on Goro’s chest.

Goro hates him so much. He hates how easily Kurusu can read him, he hates how well Kurusu can handle every little change, and he absolutely despises how tightly Kurusu has him wrapped around his little finger.

But most of all, he hates that he can never bring himself to really hate Kurusu, because everything would be so, so, so much easier if he did.

Sae clears her throat, prompting Goro to collect himself. He very carefully ignores her pointed glance and raised eyebrows as he leads her to the elevator. Luckily, Sae doesn’t press him.

Unluckily, his landlady does. “Ah— Ake-chan!”

He barely withholds a grimace. “Mikoshiba-san.”

Her eyes brighten. “Why, and I see you’ve brought your . . . boyfriend? Not to worry, child, I won’t tell anyone. And who might you be?” she asks, turning her attention to Sae.

“Mikoshiba-san, I think there’s a misunderstanding here. My friend here is injured, so my coworker and I wanted to bring him here to be safe.”

Kurusu picks exactly this moment to nuzzle closer to Goro in his sleep.

Goro briefly imagines dropping Kurusu’s overly affectionate self to the ground as unceremoniously as possible.

Mikoshiba tries to pat his head, which he manages to swiftly dodge. “It’s alright, dearie, I’m not judging you. My son also . . . ah.” She seems to reroute her thoughts as she realises that perhaps outing her son to the celebrity that lives in the building may not, in fact, be the best idea.

Goro is going to need a long break after this.

Thankfully, Sae manages to occupy Mikoshiba with a completely different conversation as she follows them into the elevator, and up to the twelfth floor. Mikoshiba, thankfully, takes that moment to help unlock the door, and Goro immediately makes for his room so that he can finally put Kurusu down on his bed.

Kurusu snuggles into the sheets (which, Goro realises belatedly, he’s meant to wash tomorrow, but whatever) the moment his head hits the mattress. “Goroooooo,” he mumbles sleepily, clutching the pillow, “conmfy . . .”

Goro promptly decides to ignore him. Instead, he turns to his cupboard, opens his socks drawer, and removes the false bottom from it.

This, at least, draws Sae out of her conversation with the landlady about Goro’s abysmal sleeping habits.

“A false bottom?” she asks, having walked over.

“An obviously placed one, too,” Mikoshiba comments from the doorway. “Isn’t a socks drawer always where the false bottom is in mystery novels?”

“That’s because socks can take up an amount of space that can disguise the actual depth of the drawer,” Goro says, glossing over it. “But the whole point for this is that it’s meant to be obvious.” Not bothering to go too deep into his explanation, he glances over his shoulder. “Mikoshiba-san, with all due respect and my sincerest apologies, we must ask you to leave. This does contain confidential police information.”

“Of course, dearie,” she says, turning around immediately. “I saw nothing at all, no matter who asks.”

“Thank you,” Goro just says, waiting until he hears the sound of the door closing.

“What do you plan on doing if she does tell someone?” Sae asks, her tone somewhere between patronising and wary.

“I wouldn’t need to. By then, this”—he pulls out the drawer completely, placing it on the side table—“will already be gone.”

Sae reaches into the drawer, pulling out a single notebook; one that could be bought at any convenience store. “This?”

Goro doesn’t look at it, instead focusing his attention to the thick slab of wood he’d just removed from the base of the drawer. “You can go through that if you want, Sae-san, but it’s only a dummy.”

Nonetheless, Sae shifts through the pages, frown increasing. She’s about halfway through the book when she closes it. “Why would you even keep this, Akechi-kun? And what do you mean, ‘it’s a dummy’?”

“That’s supposed to be an easy find for if Shido ever has his lackeys ransack my house.” He reserved one page for each of the targets Shido’s ever assigned to him, containing their name, who ordered the hit, what happened to their Shadow, how they were affected in reality, and the consequences they faced. “Aside from what happens in the Metaverse, it only contains things he knows.”

“I see,” Sae says primly. “So then, what is it you really wanted to bring?”

Goro lifts up the wooden slab, places it onto his lap vertically, and tugs at the top edge, which slides off with a click.

“A box?”

Goro doesn’t respond. Instead, he carefully pulls out a string tie folder from it, along with a clear file and another sheet of paper.

Sae picks up the clear file first, and Goro’s breath involuntarily hitches. He doesn’t look at her, instead wandering back to his bed where Kurusu is fast asleep, buried deep within the covers.

He remembers how he’d been asleep for two days straight the first time he’d slept on that bed. After a lifetime of sleeping on floors or thin futons or blankets, sleeping on a proper bed had felt like heaven. For Kurusu, who’s spent the entirety of his probation in Tokyo sleeping on a mattress over fruit crates, it must be a small paradise, being able to sleep on a proper bed.

After a moment’s hesitation, he sits down next to Kurusu on the bed, and slowly reaches for Kurusu’s free hand.

“Mmm,” is all the response he gets as Kurusu’s grip on Goro’s hand tightens, but Kurusu’s eyes slowly open, bleary and tired.

Akira Kurusu smiles at Goro, and as the final nail in the coffin, tugs him closer with all the forcefulness of a spring breeze.

Something inside his chest—your heart, you fool—shudders.

For the smallest of moments, Goro considers lying down next to Kurusu, letting himself take advantage of the open trust and comfort; considers curling up next to him and letting himself fall asleep; considers opening his heart to Kurusu and being as vulnerable to him as Kurusu is to Goro right now.

Using his last name feels like an uncomfortable insult to Ku—to Akira’s trust.

Quietly, in full seriousness, Akira asks, “Can I call you Goro?”

“You’ve already been doing that,” Goro just says.

“I mean, normally.”

When was the last time he was called Goro willingly by someone he knew? He can’t even remember if he’s been referred to by his given name since his mother died.

Against his better judgment—or perhaps, because of his better judgment?—he says, “. . . Alright.”

He doesn’t miss the way Akira’s entire body relaxes further, and Goro feels the inexplicable urge to twine his hand in Akira’s, to let their fingers lace together—

“He’s your father?” Sae’s quiet, horrified whisper ends the moment, drawing both boys back to reality.

“Who’s whose father?” Akira asks, completely lost.

Goro can feel goosebumps forming across his skin. “Did you read everything?”

“I haven’t gone through the finer details, but I have the gist of it. Do you know if he still has Isshiki’s research?” Sae asks, brows furrowed.

“What’s going on?” Akira demands.

Goro has half a mind to tell him to go back to sleep, but knowing Akira, it won’t happen now that he’s even slightly rested.

“On the way here, I mentioned Masayoshi Shido, the one who organises, takes the requests for, and orchestrates the psychotic breakdowns and the mental shutdowns that I carry out in the Metaverse.” Goro’s voice is businesslike, detached.

“He’s behind numerous political and corporate scandals, thanks to the aid he’s received both in the Metaverse and out of it. In exchange for both public and financial support, he takes requests for the psychotic breakdowns from his co-conspirators.”

“And you . . .”

“Yes, I’m the one that does it. I don’t want to have to explain this too many times, so if the others are going to want to know exactly how, I’ll explain it then.”

Akira nods. “That’s . . . probably better.”

“In that case, I’ll go into the details about Shido’s actions then as well.”

“So . . . you’re doing this for him because he’s your father?” Sae frowns. “In that case, why do you live alone, Akechi-kun? And why become a detective? How come I’ve never seen him? Why are your surnames—”

“Sae-san.”

Sae falls quiet, but her expression is still troubled.

Quietly, Akira says, “I thought you said your father was out of the picture.” A pause, before he meets Goro’s eyes and rests his hand—covered in purple and red bruises—on Goro’s. “I understand if you don’t want to tell the others, but . . . can you at least tell me who you are, Goro Akechi?”

He tells them about his mother, who’d been courted by Shido, then dropped like a hot brick the moment he found out she was pregnant with Goro. How he’d ruined her life just by existing.

He tells them about the foster homes, the orphanages; about how you needed to fight just to make it through to the next day. About finding the MetaNav and subsequently awakening to Robin Hood, then promptly being found by Wakaba Isshiki, who had a connection to Shido.

About how Isshiki was the one who found out about Goro’s biological connection to Shido, the one who used him as her way of breaking through to the Metaverse, the one who made him awaken to Loki before he was ready, the one who first had him try to use Loki’s special ability, Call of Chaos, to make Shadows go berserk.

Then, about approaching Shido on his own and offering his aid to him, all in the hopes of building him up, and how when he was so sure Shido was at his peak, he’d pull the rug out from under him, make all this information public, and as the cherry on the cake, reveal that Goro Akechi, the son he would never have acknowledged, was the one who did it all, from start to finish.

When he finishes, Akira and Sae both seem to have been left speechless. There’s a distinct look in both of their eyes that Goro has only ever known as—

“I don’t need your pity,” he says, spitting the word out like venom. “I’ve made it this far, and unless you intend on arresting me here and now, I don’t plan on backing out of this.” Goro’s fists are clenched before he’s even realised it.

He hates pity. All it is and has ever been is a method of self-justification for the fortunate, so they can keep themselves content by feeling bad for those worse off, complacent in their sympathy without ever needing to do anything to change it.

“This isn’t pity, Akechi-kun,” Sae says quietly, aligning the contents of the folder before putting them aside and leaning forward.

At the same time, Kurusu shuffles closer, and begins to unclench Goro’s fists, one finger at a time.

“Aki—?”

Akira still doesn’t look up, but when he’s done, he lifts Goro’s hand up slowly, and presses a gentle kiss to his knuckles. “Let’s destroy this rotten system for good,” he says, then looks Goro in the eye. Akira’s eyes aren’t filled with pity or sympathy, but a raging storm of fury and determination. “And we’ll take down Masayoshi Shido with it.”

Something fiery and unwavering rushes through Goro, and his hands grasp tighter on Akira’s. “Do you plan on changing his heart?”

“We were planning on changing the heart of the person we figured you worked under regardless, but after hearing this, he deserves it,” Akira says, entirely serious about it. “And from what I can tell, you want him to suffer the consequences of his actions just as much.”

He does want Shido to suffer. He wants him to suffer for the woman whom he’d abandoned, for the innocents whose lives he’s treated as stepping stones to his success.

“Of course.”

There’s a few beats of silence, after which Sae speaks up. “Akechi-kun,” she says quietly.

The dam bursts.

Goro looks up at her, to see her hand descending onto his head. Sae smiles with all the warmth of a mother as she ruffles his hair lightly. “You’re a strong kid; I’ve known that for a while. It’s probably wrong for me to say this, as a prosecutor, but I’m proud of you. Not of your actions, obviously, but of you.”

Goro can feel his eyes burning. “I . . .”

Proud of him.

“When you make Shido confess his crimes, I’ll be there to finish up with the prosecution and arrest. And if it comes to it, Akechi-kun, I’ll do my best to lighten any sentences that come to you as much as possible.”

Any words Goro had prepared don’t leave his throat. Instead, he shudders a little, and Kurusu comes closer, proceeding to wrap his arms around Goro in an embrace.

“Do you want me to go call Makoto and the others now? I’ll take a while for them to reach, so you’ll have some time for yourselves.” Sae asks. “Or would you rather we go to the cafe?”

“Could we stay here for a bit longer?” Akira asks quietly.

Goro tries to collect himself. “You can call the others here, Sae-san. Akira needs a comfortable place to rest, and that’s not possible at Leblanc. Plus, if he intends to continue faking his death, it would be ideal if he wasn’t going in and out of his living place.”

Sae nods, then pauses. “Why is it not possible for him to rest there?”

“It’s fi—” Akira starts, but Goro cuts him off.

“His bed in Leblanc is a thin mattress over fruit crates. He’s sustained multiple violent injuries from the interrogation, and his attic’s environment is not conducive to his recovery.”

Sae nods again slowly, and leaves the bedroom, already on the line with her sister.

Akira sighs, flopping back onto Goro’s bed. “Shido was the one who had me put on probation,” he says, staring at the ceiling.

Goro turns to look at him again. “Your record is for assault, right?”

Akira nods. “I barely did anything. He was trying to force a woman into his car, and I tried to pull him away. I’m pretty sure he was drunk; he lost his balance and fell onto the pavement and hit his head. I didn’t really do anything, but then the police came, and they obviously believed his word over mine. He got that lady to lie about the situation, too.” A pause. “I wish I’d punched him, looking back.”

Goro thinks back, recalling Shido summoning him in a foul mood, with a large bandage over his forehead near the end of March. He distinctly remembers finding the sight obscenely amusing. “That was you?”

“That shiny bald head could do with another crack in it,” Akira grumbles quietly, and Goro can’t help but laugh. It’s so surreal—the person Shido had intended him to kill was here, lying down next to Goro on his bed, talking about how much of an ass Shido is.

“It could,” he agrees.

Akira looks at Goro again, something playful in his eyes, and he tugs Goro down towards him, leaving Goro lying down beside him. “I’m glad you didn’t kill me,” he says gently.

Goro pauses. “I didn’t do it for you. I did it for my sake.”

“That makes me even more glad, then. It means you didn’t want to listen to Shido any longer. That you chose to defy him of your own free will.” Akira takes Goro’s hand again, interlacing their fingers together.

“I know that,” Goro just says.

“Good,” Akira mumbles, and before he can say anything else, his eyes close into an easy sleep.

He must’ve spent all his energy staying awake this long, but at the very least, Goro can tell that Akira is miles more comfortable and relaxed than before.

Before he can think twice about it, Goro kisses Akira’s forehead, then allows himself to drift off beside him. I’m doing this for me. I’m choosing this. I have my own freedom. It’s for my sake, not yours.

It feels good to finally have a say in making his own fate.

Hope you enjoyed! You can find my AO3 and Twitter here!

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Again, the absolutely amazing art is Aleks’s, whose Twitter is here!

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