Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It's late February when he gets the call from Sae-san. "Goro Akechi is alive. For now, at least."

The curry in his mouth turns to ash. He nearly spits it out. "Excuse me?"

"They found him about a week ago. A good samaritan called to let them know. His condition was... not ideal. There was a lot of internal bleeding." He can hear her lean back in her chair. She lets out the sigh she sighs when she's pinching the bridge of her nose. 

Akira swallows, resists the urge to choke on his food. He takes a steadying breath and drinks some coffee to help the lumps of rice go down. "Where- where is he, Sae-san?"

The telling sound of her sitting at attention in her chair. "You're not going to fight him, are you? It wouldn't look good for you to get kicked out of a hospital."

"So he's in a public hospital. Which one?"

"One near Kichijoji. Lucky for you, he starts to accept visitors today. Be on your best behavior, alright? The doctors I've spoken to say his condition's improved. I haven't been down to check on him yet, I've been caught up a case."

"I'll behave, I promise." He nods and winks, even though he knows she can't see. It's only after he hangs up that he lets his fists clench. Alive again. He's gone back and forth between life and death enough that Akira's nerves have started to wear thin.

He rubs a hand over his eyes, then responds to some of his unanswered messages:

Ryuji: hey dude, are you busy today? a new movie came out and i was wondering if you wanted to check it out with me.

Akira: Can't today. I have important business.

Ryuji: awwww man. what kind of important business.

Akira: I have to go to the hospital. Will update you later.

Ryuji: wait WHAT? who's in the hospital???!!?!?!?!

Ryuji: AKIRA!?!?!?!?

Makoto: Hello, are you free? I was thinking about taking a trip to Ogikubo and getting some ramen.

Akira: Makoto, can we do that next week? Something came up.

Makoto: So Sis called you too.

Akira: When did she tell you?

Makoto: About 10 minutes ago. Are you sure you want to do this? 

Akira: Someone has to. 

Makoto: ...Will you be okay? 

Akira: If not, I can pretend.

Makoto: Okay, that's not really healthy. 

Ann: Hey Akira!!! The crepe place in Shibuya has a two for one deal. Want to go get one?

Akira: What kind of flowers do you get a guy who's died twice.

Ann: Oh you're fucking kidding me.

Akira: Nope. Sae-san confirmed. 

Ann: I think roses look nice, but I don't really know what the hospital would or wouldn't let him have. 

Akira: I'll drop by the underground mall, then.

Ann: Be careful, okay?

Akira: Will do ;]

One shopping trip and one train ride later, he's standing outside the door. Steeling himself, he knocks.

Akira should have realized something was wrong sooner.

The doctor inside the room nods in acknowledgement at him. "Kurusu-san is here to see you," he announces, then holds out a hand for him to shake. Akira does, giving a "good student who can do no wrong, no sir" grin and noting the nametag in the short window of opportunity – Keisuke Hiraga – Hiraga-sensei it is, then.

When Akira Kurusu sees Goro Akechi looking frail, he aches. He pushes up his glasses up the bridge of his nose, holding out a small bouquet of roses like a peace offering. Inside is tucked an envelope. The red card clashes with the red flowers, and in the dismal lighting of the hospital, the choice is both gaudy and morbid at once.

Goro is examining him. There is no frost in his eyes. His hands are folded politely in his lap. He bares no teeth and spits no venom. "Oh, hello. Have you come to visit me?" He closes his eyes and smiles in such a mild mannered way that Akira nearly drops the bouquet he's brought.

He takes notice of them, blinks. His expression shifts minutely, fiddling with the hem of his hospital gown. "Those look nice. Thank you."

The doctor stands beside the door, visibly nervous about something but not moving to interrupt at all. 

Akira, thrown for a loop, bites his lip. "Ah... yes... you're welcome." As subtly as possible, he slides the note he had written out of the wrapping and into his sleeve. Goro's eyes don't follow it, and the maneuver goes unnoticed. For whatever reason, he feels his stomach drag downwards in response.

"What brings you to see me, Kurusu-san?"

You could hear a pin drop in the silence of the room. Akira takes notice of the doctor nudging the door shut with a careful tap of his loafer. 

Kurusu-san.

Not Akira-kun, blithe and sharp. Not even Akira, jaggedly spat out like an insult. No Joker, though that's for the best. Kurusu-san, like Akira is worthy of his respect, like Akira is his peer and not a bug he would love to stomp on. 

Akira swallows hard and finally works up the nerve to approach Goro's bedside. "I've heard your recovery is going well, Akechi-san."

This is it, the moment that confirms it. There is no way in hell Goro wouldn't react to Akira calling him by such a formal address, and yet... Goro's face doesn't morph into any particular emotion. His affect is flat.

"It is. Hiraga-sensei says I'm being released in... what was it, again?"

"Three days." The doctor nods sternly, examining his clipboard. His glasses hang a little loosely on the bridge of his nose. "He's in the home stretch, we just want to keep him for observation a bit longer. There were a few abnormalities in his condition when he was first admitted. We'll monitor him, but I believe he'll be good as new in no time." Hiraga-sensei looks up at the both of them, gives a thumbs up that tries to look cool and comes off as awkward.

"Akechi-san," Akira repeats. His teeth sear into the flesh of his cheek.

"Is something wrong, Kurusu-san?"

Alarms blare in his head. His ears ring. After all of this, after every damn thing he's done, this is the thing that breaks him down. He bites the inside of his cheek harshly to keep from doing something stupid, like bursting into tears or falling to his knees in defeat.

Akira keeps a straight face through the sting; putting on the mask, acting like Joker. He is calm, he is collected, he is the leader of the Phantom Thieves for fuck's sake. He can't give up. He can't lose. 

"Oh, nothing much. I'm glad to see you're alright." He deposits the roses into a hospital-owned vase, a vessel for recycled kindness. He glances pointedly at Hiraga-sensei. "Actually, do you mind if we talk a minute?"

"Not at all." The doctor tucks his clipboard under his arm and exits. His shoes click softly on the tile as he goes. 

Akira hovers over Goro's bedside. There's a bitterness in his throat that's impossible to swallow. He chokes it down anyway. "Akechi," he bites out, tasting the flavor of it. Rotten. "I need you to do something important for me. Okay?"

"...What is it?" He cocks his head. Akira clasps his hand, and the shock that flashes in Goro's eyes bruises him. He watches as Goro reels it in, as his eyelid twitches and his fingers clutch weakly at his bedsheets. The fumes of industrial strength cleaner invade his nose.

Behind his glasses, Akira squints. "Simple. What is my first name?"

"Are we really doing this right now?" Finally, something familiar peeks out from beneath the surface. Annoyance. He sits on his haunches, his cracked lips a hard line. 

Akira cannot help but reach from the disposable cup of water on the table beside him, and gently tip Goro's head back. Goro huffs. His cheeks turn pink, of all things, but he lets Akira manuever him into a position where he can drink comfortably. "You looked thirsty."

Goro licks his lips. His warm fingers twitch beneath Akira's. Dimly, he registers they're still touching, but somewhat selfishly doesn't move his hand.

Again, stubbornly, he repeats, "What's my first name?" 

A long period of silence. Goro's expression is full of pity. Akira is sick to his stomach. His lip trembles. His eyes burn. He can hear the petals rustle. Why is he only now feeling the thorns through their cellophane casing?

Goro Akechi is not the type to pity. He's angry and cynical and loud. Akira has taken the pains of getting to know such a force of nature. They've fought with and against each other, turned the tides and beat the odds...

"Are you... Makoto-kun? You look like a Makoto."

Akira's heart crumples in his chest. Some hurt must show on his face, because Goro backpedals, eyes wide. "Damn, no, I guess not."

"Describe one of my friends. This is even easier. You don't even have to give a name. Just tell me what one of them looks like."

"Why are you doing this?" Goro's tone takes on a high-pitched edge. It's sharp like a blade.

"Please. Indulge me." 

Finally, Goro snaps. "I can't. I fucking can't. I don't remember, Kurusu-san."

Akira draws his fingers back. His hand shakes. "What do you remember?"

"Everything is a blur. I get slices here and there, of my mother and my no-good father."

"Do you remember anything from this past year? Anything Shido had you do?"

"What are you talking about?" Goro's eyes are wet with tears. "He's never contacted me for anything. He's too busy in the political world."

This is when it sets in. Akira feels like he is in a free-falling elevator. His feet have left the ground, and he's grasping desperately for anything that will make the drop less deadly. His voice is thick. "Holy shit," he whispers. "What happened to you?"

He looks down at himself, avoiding eye contact. "They're saying I have memory loss. Not complete memory loss, but... there are large sections that I can't recall. Anything recent is quite blurry. I can sort of recall how I felt in that time, but... that's all."

Akira Kurusu goes pale. He's lost the script, he can't charm his way out of this one. Can't say something insightful or kind to reassure Goro Akechi. All he can think is, Maybe Goro Akechi really died this time.

"Who am I to you?"

"From the way you're acting," Goro mutters, "it's like you were my boyfriend or something." 

"I– I don't think I was. I don't know if I could have been, after what happened."

"Oh, well then! What fucking happened?"

Akira brings out a pen, writes his chat ID on a scrap receipt he has. "When you're released, talk to me. I have... I have to go do something right now. I'm sorry I couldn't stay longer, Goro-kun. Get well soon, okay?" He shoots a weak smile over his shoulder. Goro nods, shifts, offers the barest smile back. A courtesy Akira isn't sure if he deserves.

On his way through the door, he passes Hiraga-sensei. The man grimaces. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you immediately. Akechi-san is quite upset that he can't remember as much as he used to. I should have considered how that would make you feel." Hiraga-sensei pats him on the shoulder. "I'm deeply sorry, Kurusu-san."

Akira can only bring himself to shrug his shoulders. "It's... fine."

"No, it's not," he insists. "Look, when I was your age, I met someone who deeply touched my life. If he ever forgot who I was, it would devastate me. If I ever forgot him... I don't know what I would do. He's the one who helped me realize I wanted to join the medical field."

Akira looks up at the doctor's face, the feelings he's shared. He glances around, looking for other staff. "Did you..." His voice is deadly silent.

Hiraga-sensei nods, shifting his jaw. "I loved him. I don't think it was returned, there was a lot on his shoulders." He shrugs. "But my life was enriched by him being in it. I have a partner now that I deeply love. So, Kurusu-san. I want you to be an enrichment to Goro Akechi's life. He needs a rock right now. Even if he doesn't know you, even if he doesn't... feel a certain way about you anymore, he desperately needs a friend."

Akira nods. "I understand. I'll try and help him out. I'm good at helping people." 

"Good." Hiraga-sensei lets go of his shoulder finally, waves goodbye.

Akira waits until he's outside the hospital to cry.

Chapter Text

Akechi feels the world buzz beneath his aching body. He opens his eyes. He's in a helicopter. Outside the window lies a beautiful city in ruin.

Dimly, he hears distorted voices around him. He can't understand the words through the fog in his mind. He's lower now. When did he slip down out of his seat?

Names escape him, but he feels other presences nearby. Cards in a deck, no longer neatly shuffled, in disarray.

No one said this would be easy, after all.

His attention is caught by red. Red hands, red eyes, red mouth creaking open in a grotesque expression of pain. That's all he can focus on; everything else has gotten progressively blurrier, dripping and melting into each other. He cannot sort out what is what, what direction is up and what is down. 

Stay with me. Come on, please, don't–

His head is swimming. His mouth is dry. His bones are dry, too, from carrying his weight for so long.

FORGET what I said then. I DON'T CARE IF IT'S SELFISH! I DON'T CARE IF IT'S NOT SUPPOSED TO HAPPEN. Don't leave me.

Wetness that isn't his own drops onto his cheeks, his own personal rainstorm. 

There were so many things I wanted to tell you, so many things I wanted to do–

Rough fingers pry his drooping eyelids open.

LOOK AT ME. If your eyes don't close, you won't go right? Right??

Such a foolish notion, perfect for a Fool. Akechi coughs, clutches his bruised ribs. He speaks without knowing what the words mean. "We made a deal. You're not backing out now that the consequences arrived."

Screw the consequences, I can't lose you again. 

"I can't exist without this. This me will disappear."

So you're not going to tell him? ...I can see why.

PLEASE!!

"What kind of a leader begs like... like this?" The hands soften. Now tender, they cradle Akechi's neck. "Stop crying. I decided."

Akechi, I love you.

He grits his teeth through the pain. His personas rattle in their cages. It gives him an awful headache. "Doesn't the moon look beautiful tonight?" He regurgitates. He's losing feeling in his limbs. His fingers are cold. 

Can we make another deal?

Akechi nudges his head forward as much as he can, giving a kiss to the Fool's lips. It tastes like metal. He drops back down. The murmuring increases, a multitude of concerned voices. He feels himself disintegrate, his flesh becoming like butter. He sinks through the helicopter, into nothingness.

There is a desk before him. On it lays tarot cards, intricately printed. Standing on the opposite side is two halves of a whole. 

And you're sure about this? Once I change your cognition, there might not be a way to restore what you want removed.

"Lavenza, I'm so fucking tired. I want a clean slate. I want to be more than what I've done."

The trickster won't be pleased. He's quite fond of you

"He doesn't have to know what you've done for me."

He accepts you as you are.

"That's not the issue. The Thieves don't trust me. Why would they, after I sold them out? After I tried to..." He covers his face.

...I think I can understand. Come, let the change be made. You, who forge your own path, will take a different road than before.

Goro Akechi wakes up, and his recollections are washed from him like footprints in the sand. Day by day, he follows his routine. Night by night, his dreams sink like stones, heavy in his subconscious. But this Goro is unaware of them. All that lingers is the sorrow they're tainted with.

When he's released in good condition, he gets his phone returned to him by Hiraga-sensei. Any hopes of finding out who he used to be is dashed; it appears to be factory reset save for one contact, a Sae Nijima. 

Goro suddenly remembers Kurusu-san, the note. He inserts the chat ID into his phone as he enters the Kichijoji station.

Goro Akechi: I'm out now. Would you like to meet somewhere and chat?

He receives a reply almost immediately.

Kurusu-san: I'm in the middle of something. Shibuya Central Street?

Goro Akechi: That can be arranged.

Chapter Text

The soda in Akira's hand sweats with condensation. Ryuji brought Big Bang Burger; so offput by change, he requested something that he knows always tastes the same. Leblanc's been reserved for a Phantom Thieves meeting, the first one in months. He bounces his leg, trying to stave off anxiety. Morgana curls up in his lap, which eases it a little bit.

"Why did you call us here?" Yusuke asks. He primly takes a fry from the carton, eats.

"Yeah, bro," Ryuji adds, through a mouthful of food. "You've been acting kinda weird the past few days."

Haru fidgets in place. "If I'm being honest, I thought you were... what is it called when someone stops replying back to you forever?" 

Futaba, hugging her knees, tilts her head. "Ghosted."

"Okay! Yeah, I thought you ghosted us." How did she say things like that so calmly?

Makoto bites her lip. "Every time I texted you, you would read them and wouldn't respond."

"I've had a rough week."

Rough was the understatement of the century. It took every last scrap of resolve Akira had to finally get off of his milk-crate bed, five days deep into a depression, and do something other than eat, drink water, sleep, and go to the bathroom.

"I called this meeting because I got some news. That's why I've been so quiet. I've been... dealing with stuff. I didn't know how you all would react, so I haven't explained much. I'm sorry for scaring you."

Morgana stands and hops up onto the tabletop. "Akira's been in bad shape. I had to beg him to go across the street and take a bath. He was starting to smell."

"Morgana." Akira pinched his nose, sighing. "Why did you have to tell them that?"

"To show how bad it was."

"They can see how tired I look." He gestured to his eyebags.

"How much you stank aside..." Ann begins.

"Hey!"

"Hey yourself. What's the news? Does it have something to do with Akechi being alive?"

Almost in unison, four heads snap over to look at Ann, dumbstruck. 

"Akechi is WHAT?" Ryuji grits out. The fry in his hand gets squashed with how hard he clenches it.

Sumire blinks in surprise, lips parted in shock. She nearly drops her burger, but swifly catches it. "Akechi-kun is alive?" 

Akira wets his lips nervously. "Yes. Akechi is alive. He's been in the hospital. They found him in some alley somewhere with internal damage. But, here's the good news – he's got a clean bill of health on the physical end."

"What's the bad news?" Yusuke probes. "He wants to kill us? He has a palace?"

"Not exactly...? He, well, he's lost a lot of memories. I think he remembers his childhood, and he definitely remembers his name. But not the Phantom Thieves. Not us." Not me.

Ryuji loosened his grip, anger fading from him quickly. "Oh. Okay."

Akira raised an eyebrow. "What, now you're cool with him being around?"

"I mean, yeah... he won't try to kill us."

"He didn't last time." Last time, so vivid whenever he closed his eyes, Maruki and a daring escape and Akechi fading into nothingness.

Makoto hummed, unconvinced. "We still don't know if that was a cognition or not."

Akira looked around the table quietly. Sure, the others might have teamed up with Akechi. Some might have even enjoyed his company now and then. But they did have good reason to avoid trusting him. Avoid him in general in some cases. Futaba's mother. Haru's father. The loss of a parent cuts deep.

But Akira's seen the truth of him before, unfiltered. Bottomless anger and immense sadness and cocky confidence. All of his raw emotions, the bloody insides behind the mask. A soul hiding razor-sharp teeth. He can't help but feel a kinship. His adaptability leaves him on unstable footing, unsure of who he really is without Joker's collected coolness.

As several teammates avoid his eyes, the memory of his love confession smacks him across the face. Despite himself, he can't bring himself to feel embarrassed. If he hadn't and Akechi had truly died, Akira would have gone to the grave remorseful. In hindsight, maybe confessing your love to someone who blew your cognitive brains out in front of your friends wasn't a great move.

"Anyway," he finally said, clearing his throat. "I wanted you to know because I'm going to... do some recon, you could say. Figure out how much he knows. If you don't want to hear about it, I understand. I just wanted you to know about it."

Akira sees some nods in understanding and some concerned looks. Ryuji's reaction once again draws his eye; His worn down nails bite into his palm, and his eyes are clouded with... what appears to be hurt. Concern swoops in his chest, but before he can speak, Makoto pats Ryuji on the shoulder with reassuance.

"Meeting adjourned. Have a good day, guys. Text me if you need me. I promise I'll get back to you this time."

The Phantom Thieves start to file out of Leblanc, talking amongst themselves. Only Morgana and Sumire remain once the door shuts and its bell jingles. Akira dutifully sets the sign to OPEN.

"Senpai, I would be happy to come see Akechi-kun with you." She pats his hand gently. "He was a... he was surely something before. I wasn't exposed to him as much as the others have. But the cards life dealt... I can't fully fault him for how he reacted, even if it wasn't the right thing to do."

Akira breaths through his nose to keep tears at bay. Even now, he can't let himself be weak. "Thank you, Sumire-chan. That means a lot."

"Of course." She nods and smiles at him, then pets Morgana behind the ears. "Do you want some of my bento, Mona-chan? I brought some tuna for you."

As Morgana whoops and Sumire laughs, Akira's phone lights up on the table. 

[1 new notification from Goro Akechi.]

Akira palms it, swipes it open quickly, devours the message like a hearty meal.

Goro Akechi: I'm out now. Would you like to meet somewhere and chat?

Instantly, he whips up a response.

Akira: I'm in the middle of something. Shibuya Central Street?

Goro Akechi: That can be arranged. 

Akira Kurusu is scarily close to kicking his feet and giggling. Sumire peers over his shoulder, smiles. "Hey, make sure you eat first." She offers him some of her bento. The scent wafting out wins over his eagerness to leave. He's three pieces of nigiri in when he says, "Would you like to come this time?"

"Yeah, I wouldn't mind." She finishes up her burger, wipes her mouth with a napkin.

"Hey, Sumire?"

"Yeah?"

"Help me pick something nice to wear?"

"Oh, boy..." Fond exasperation colors her voice. He wouldn't have it any other way.

Akira: Is it okay if I bring a friend?

Goro Akechi: Fine by me.

Chapter Text

One hour and five changes of clothes later, Akira and Sumire are finally Shibuya-bound. The train they board is standing-room only, baking with the body heat of its passengers. They both grasp the loops of the grab handles, standing beside each other. Sumire nudges him with her shoulder. "Are you nervous?"

Akira can't help but chuckle, smoothing a hand over the back of his head. "Of course. I mean, he's completely different now. Practically a brand-new person. What if he decides he doesn't want me in his life anymore?" His voice tapers off, his gaze now unfocused. 

Sumire sighs sympathetically, tapping Akira's arm with her free hand. "Hey, listen to me, senpai. No matter what happens, I'm here for you. You helped me through a really hard time in my life. I was in shock. Lost, kinda, like Kasumi had died all over again. It was so hard for me to keep going at times. I would want to get into bed and never get out. I would sit in the shower for nearly an hour before remembering where I was. It was awful. But you supported me through it the best you could."

He nods, shoulders relaxing from their tense position. "I'm glad I could help."

"So, what I'm saying is, I'll be here. Not to guide you, but to offer support. Getting to know this new Akechi-kun, that's your decision. You just have to remember that he's a person with his own desires. If he doesn't want to know you, that's up to him. You can't change that." 

"I understand," he murmurs, fingers clutching the loop tightly. "If it were me, I might do that, too. So I get it. I won't force his hand." 

Akira feels something inside him curdle and spoil at the thought, however. Akechi turning away, his back receding into the Crossing, never again in his life after forever changing it. He wipes it clean, like dusting a piece of furniture. Routine. 

Vainly, he hopes instead. He can't commit to more than that, fool himself into thinking things will wrap up in a neat bow. Before they reach the platform, he prays to every god in every pantheon, please, just this one thing.

Sumire has to drag him by the hand out of the station. The sun shines overhead, reflecting off of high rises and casting long, creeping shadows. They make their way across the Crossing, through a sea of people heading every which way. He wonders what it would be like to be ordinary again, not a Phantom Thief, not a god-killer, not a fated savior. College. A day job. Someone to come home to...

As they enter the confines of Central Street, Akira catches Goro Akechi by the eyes. Light like honey in his hair, refracting through his crimson eyes. A plaid sweater, khakis and ARE HIS HANDS NAKED?

His gloves are nowhere to be seen. Akira feels like he shouldn't be looking at bare hands, and then realizes how strange that is. 

A) He owns one of them. It's tucked onto his shelf of keepsakes. 

B) Why would someone who had no memories randomly decide to wear gloves on a nice spring day?

He stops considering it as they finally reach Akechi, standing ramrod straight. Akira makes to hug him, then to shake his hand. Safer. Akechi seems to consider his options, then gingerly takes him by the hand, shakes lightly. His palm is smooth and warm to the touch and they've been holding hands too long, because Sumire clears her throat and beams, offering her hand as well.

"Hello, Akechi-san. You probably don't remember me but I'm Sumire Yoshizawa-san. I go to school with Akira-senpai." 

"Akira," Akechi rasps. Like nails on a chalkboard, ice claws at his back. It's odd, but not unwelcome. "So that's your first name, Kurusu-kun. Pleasure to meet you, Yoshizawa-chan."

"The pleasure is mine." She giggles, lets go of him.

Akira takes the opening to speak. "Yes, it's in fact been my first name since I was born."

Somehow, it gets a genuine laugh out of Akechi. Akira's frozen in time, in this moment where he sees what could have been. An Akechi that wasn't tormented, traumatized, vicious in his affections because that was what he was accustomed to from his shitbag dad. An Akechi that wouldn't rip his heart out and take a bite like it was an apple. It's sweet, in a melancholic way. 

"Well, what do you two want to do? I'm not super familiar with the area." Akechi tips his head, rubs the back of his neck awkwardly. "Unless you wanted me to pick something? Because I can pick something if you're undecided." 

"Sumire, how about you pick?" Akira suggests, shrugging his shoulder. "I'm pretty versatile. There's really nothing I won't try."

Akechi scratches his chin, in thought. "I admire that mindset. I'd be open to that."

"Hm, alright." Sumire examines to options, humming all the while. "Oh, how about we get crepes? Ann-chan keeps telling me try the place they have here, but I'm usually busy with training."

"That sounds nice." Akechi smiles warmly. "How do you feel about that, Akira-kun?"

Akira doesn't say, I would do anything for you, I would go through hell for you.

Akira does say, "Yeah, I'm game. I'll pay, though, if that's cool."

"Are you sure, senpai?" 

"You shared your bento with me earlier. Food for food. Pick whatever you want."

Sumire, quite literally, jumps up and down. "I'm definitely getting three then. Oh, Akechi-kun, I'm a gymnast, so I like to stockpile calories. A little carbo-loading wouldn't hurt."

"Three?" He says, blinking in surprise. "My, what a healthy appetite. What flavors do they have, Yoshizawa-chan?"

As they stroll, they discuss the flavors they like, from the savory (Akira, the resident too-sweet hater) to the sweet (Akechi, who adores chocolate flavored things), and everything in between (Sumire, whose appetite bests both of theirs). Akira buys five crepes, to the owner's amusement, and gets a sixth on the house. The three find a curb to settle on, dividing up their spoils. 

They people watch as they eat, making a game of it. "What do you think they're like?" Sumire points out two women who appear to be in their forties, who come down the diner stairs.

Akira swallows, swipes away crumbs with the back of his arm. "They've been friends for a long time. Body language. They look... happy to see each other, so I take it whatever they're talking about it a positive thing." 

"Neat! Hm, lemme think... they were probably talking about... oh, no way! One of them has a wedding ring. See? It glints in the light. Maybe they're discussing planning? The other one might be in the wedding party. Or maybe a photographer? ...Or baker?" 

"Actually, Yoshizawa-chan, it's hard to see from this angle, but the other woman has a wedding ring, too. It looks new. One could say... they're both the same age?"

"I didn't even think of that!" Sumire exclaimed. "They could be marrying each other."

"There's no way to know unless we know them personally. But that's good speculation. And nice catch, Akechi-kun." Akira winks, grinning. "Even I didn't notice that detail."

"I aim to please!" He splayed a hand across his own chest, smiling triumphantly.

Sumire's phone buzzes in her bag. She withdraws it. "Oh, crap, I completely lost track of time. I have to get home! Thank you for the crepes and the company, Akira-kun, Akechi-kun." She rushes off, looking back over his shoulder to wave. "We should do this again sometimes, if you want."

Akira watches her go, then turns to Akechi. "This has been a great time. Do you have to head home, too?"

"Actually, that's what I wanted to talk to you about, Kurusu-kun. I was informed I used to have an apartment in Shibuya. But since I wasn't around to pay rent..." 

"Oh, shit. You got evicted."

"I got evicted, yes. Do you know a good place to stay?" Akira catches a familiar glint in Akechi's eye, though not so intense as he remembers it. A leading question.

"Well, there's this café I'm staying at currently. I was taken in by Sojiro Sakura-san what feels like forever ago now."

"What about your parents?"

"Long story, but I got falsely charged with a crime. Don't worry, though, the guy who did it to me got arrested for many, many crimes. Don't throw stones when you live in a glass house, you know? Anyways, the false charge has had ripple effects on my social life. My parents, they're nice enough people, but they started to get shunned too. Everyone said they raised a hellraiser, a thug, all sorts of mean shit. So... my parole here was kind of a breather for them. They don't have to deal with it as much without me. So. I might stay in Tokyo. Forever."

Akechi stares at him in utter shock. "Excuse me. What. What the fuck."

"That was a lot right out of the gate, wasn't it?"

Akechi nods vigorously, mouth hanging open.

"Anyways. I know what it's like to feel like you have nowhere to turn to. So, if you want, you could stay with me until things get sorted out." Akira pushes his glasses up his nose, bites the inside of his cheek in anticipation. "Sojiro should be fine with it. Probably. Actually, hold on one sec..."

"But I haven't answered yet."

"Oh... sorry. My bad."

"Hmmmm. Let me think. Actually, kidding, I don't have a lot of options. You don't seem very sketchy. So, sure."

Akira lightly punches his shoulder. "Rude."

"Oh, no, how dreadful of me."

Akira pulled out his phone, typing up a message to Futaba.

Akira: I hope this isn't a bad time

Instantly, three dots appear.

(hacker voice) I'm in: nope im free rn, sup? do u wanna go to akiba or something?

Akira: So
Akira: Please don't kill me

(hacker voice) I'm in: what did you do

Akira: Would you be okay if I invited someone to like
Akira: Live with me
Akira: In your dad's attic

(hacker voice) I'm in: what?????
(hacker voice) I'm in: WAIT WHAT HAHDOAOSBFNALAPDHSMMAL
(hacker voice) I'm in: YOU DID NOT
(hacker voice) I'm in: YOU DID NOT FUCKING INVITE GORO AKECHI TO LIVE WITH YOU BE SERIOUS

Akira: ..........
Akira: Well he was very persuasive

(hacker voice) I'm in: i cannot understand your taste in men

Akira: YOU'RE LITERALLY DATING YUSUKE

(hacker voice) I'm in: yeah but our autisms resonate, therefore we are fated to be weird together forever!!! thems the rules bro!
(hacker voice) I'm in: anyways... i dunno how to feel
(hacker voice) I'm in: after what happened with mom
(hacker voice) I'm in: but this akechi isn't that one
(hacker voice) I'm in: ok. i'll add it to the promise list – MEET THIS NEW GORO AKECHI

Akira: Um
Akira: He kinda has no place to sleep

(hacker voice) I'm in: OK CHANGE OF PLANS, I MEET HIM NEXT WEEK
(hacker voice) I'm in: need to prepare mentally

Akira: Understood
Akira: I will keep him up in my room like a nice brother

Sighing, Akira closes his phone. "You're approved to stay over for now. It's getting kinda late. Do you wanna head there now?"

"Fine by me."

Akira stands and holds out a hand. Akechi takes it and uses it raise himself to his feet. It feels like a promise, in a way. Chains burst from his heart, anchoring them together. He had forgotten how it felt, to forge a new bond. He feels Akechi jolt slightly, then touch his forehead.

The Aeon, Arsène mutters. Interesting.

Akira's palm slips from Akechi's grasp. "Are you okay?"

"Yes, yes, fine," he says. His voice is strained, as if through gritted teeth. "I felt dizzy for a moment there. Sorry."

"Nothing to apologize for. Come on, I'll pay for your fare. Is there anything you need to get beforehand?"

"No, all I really have is this." He holds up a backpack Akira had been too distracted to notice before. It looks heavy. "Clothes. Hygiene products. Not much in the way of mementos, I'm afraid."

"That's fine." Akira smiles easily, warmly, his truest smile. "We can get you some. Just not tonight. Let's go get settled in."

---

It's night when they make it to Leblanc. Sojiro has already locked up, so Akira unlocks the door. It jingles merrily, alerting a dozing Morgana to his presence. He stretches, goes to greet Akira, then zeroes in on Akechi. He hisses. 

"You have a cat. And it's- mean?"

"I don't know what's gotten into him," Akira says. "Mona-chan, bad. Bad. We have a guest. Buuuut if you want I can take you to Futaba's real quick?"

Morgana glares at Akira. Akira shakes his head minutely. He licks his paws, then bumps his weight into Akira's leg. "Wait here a minute. I have to take this big baby to my sister's."

Akechi steps aside to let him through. As soon as they're down the street, Morgana starts to shout. "Akechi is going to live with us?!"

"To be fair, he doesn't have anywhere else. Evicted. For now, this is a temporary arrangement."

"But Futaba-"

"I asked her. She said he can for now. She's gonna meet up with us next week, feel him out. If Akechi finds housing by then, you can come back to an Akechi-less Leblanc. I promise."

"Fine," he scoffs. "But you owe me."

"I know, I know." Akira enters to Sakura household, knocks on Futaba's door. "Special delivery, one disgruntled cat. Wow, he just can't wait to see you!"

"Mona-chan!" Futaba cries, opening the door. She scoops him up into her arms, rocking him gently. "Do you want pets! Does someone want pets?"

"Fine. I want pets."

She strokes his head gently. "Aw, yeah! Bonding time. Morgana, wanna watch anime with me?"

"Okay." He nods. 

"Okay, bye, Akira!"

"Wait!"

"...Eh?"

Akira gently pulls her into a hug, Morgana squished between them. "Let me know if you change your mind. Or decide on something else."

"Can Yusuke come?" Her shoulders raise, making her hoodie seem even larger. Her headphones slip down to rest around her neck.

"Of course, Futaba. He's always welcome. If that makes you feel comfortable, be my guest." 

"Roger that." Futaba salutes him. "Alright, Morgana. What are you feeling?"

"Shoujo anime!"

"Aw, man."

"I'm the guest!"

"Fiiiiiine. Bye for real, Akira! See ya!"

"Bye!"

---

Akira reenters Leblanc. Akechi has taken a seat at one of the tables and is puzzling through a crossword. He's finished half of it. "Oh, welcome back. I didn't want to go into your room without permission."

"It's no big deal. I don't have a door, anyways."

"Every new detail I learn about you makes me vaguely concerned."

"I've heard that a lot. Anyways, you're sleeping in my bed."

"I- I beg your pardon?" Akechi is definitely blushing. Akira can see it in the tips of his ears through his hair.

Akira raises an eyebrow. "What? Guests get the bed. I take the couch."

"Oh. Understood." They both ascend the stairs. To say Akechi is horrified is an understatement. Akira has nothing to say to an honestly justified reaction, so he grabs some pajamas and changes in the bathroom. He returns yawning, breath smelling of mint.

"If you have night clothes, you can change downstairs. I'm going to turn in for the night, so turn out the light when you come back in, okay? Goodnight, Akechi-kun."

"Goodnight, Kurusu-kun."

Akira gets under the covers, and sleep hits him as hard as a sandbag.

Chapter Text

There is a dripping sound. Drip. Drip. Drip. From the table to the floor. Running off the edges, tinting its reflective metal surface. On the table lies a teenager. He almost looks like he's napping.

If not for the massive hole through his skull.

Someone could look through it and out the other side if it were upright. Blood, blood, more blood. The skull holds many complexities. Too many. Sometimes he wishes he could cast off the weights that hold him down, anchor him to this work.

Sometimes he's a fucking idiot.

It's easy work, unscrewing the suppressor. Placing the gun into the hands of a dying boy. No gunpowder stains the hands, but the coroner isn't coming today or ever. ...Committed suicide after killing a guard. A mantra he repeats. The way the world works. A cruel bitch of a place. Why should his mother die and his father live unaffected? His father shall be ruined soon enough.

EXCLUSIVE INTERVIEW WITH GORO AKECHI, BASTARD SON OF MASOYOSHI SHIDO?!?! 

Disgusting, but it will get the job done.

His fingers do not twitch, but every inch of his skin itches fiercely. Smiling a horrible, macabre smile comes naturally. The work is done. He can finally get what he's wanted for the longest time. He's won. But it also feels like losing. He cannot dwell on it. He leaves the room.

Why are you showing me this? Stop showing me this! There is a rattling of iron bars.

It's what we agreed upon.

No, I was supposed to be gone! Not stuck here in this stupid fucking place. You were supposed to kill me.

Taking your memories is not the same as killing someone.

It basically is. They're not the same person.

Physically, they are.

But mentally- He cannot finish. His brain burns. In the cell, the cage, chains surround him.

What the fuck is happening, Lavenza?

A bond has formed. 

What THE HELL are you talking about?

You and the Trickster had a bond of justice. The you in Tokyo and the Trickster have formed a bond of growth.

Wait a minute. Wait a goddamn minute, no, you can't be serious. What did you do with my body?

I wiped your memories, as you requested. But your body needs memories. I couldn't have you running around knowing literally nothing, like how to walk or eat or talk or use the restroom. That's dangerous. So what's left is your memories prior to the game of wills, before Masoyoshi Shido reached out to you. 

Before... His voice weakens. A me that hasn't killed.

The memories need somewhere to go, so here you will remain, fulfilling your sentence until further notice. Let me be honest with you, Goro Akechi. I am not completely unbiased in all of this. I wanted to see what would happen.

What would happen if I wasn't me, you mean?

I wanted to see how cognition differs. From what I've seen, a person can change so much in such a short period of time. They become a separate entity in the same casing. 

And?

And I wanted you to see what would happen if a different you came back. If you could complete your sentence. Heal your cognition, your mind. So, no, I did not fulfill your request to the letter. But I am hoping you take this opportunity, like the Aeon, to learn and change.

WHAT THE FUCK? I FUCKING HATE YOU! LET ME OUT OF THIS CELL!

I cannot do that. But, in the meantime, would you like to register your personas? Fuse new ones?

Lavenza. He looks sad, almost. What happens to the me in Tokyo if my sentence is completed?

I'm not sure. He could disappear into the ether while you regain your body. He could come here. You could both merge, the way personas merge. Only time will tell.

Goro Akechi wakes up with wet cheeks. His phone informs him it's before daylight. He groans, covers his head with his loaned pillow. He remembers scraps of his dream, of blue and red and cages. He can't piece it together. Whenever he tries, his head pounds in complaint. The floorboards creak beneath his feet when he stands up. He stretches, then opens the curtains. Yongen-Jaya is lit by streetlights, many small moons illuminating the winding backstreets.

Frowning, he looks at Akira. He feels a pang in his chest when he does, like he's forgetting something painful. On impulse, he reaches out to poke him awake. "Akira-kun."

"What's up?" He replies, groggy, freshly awake.

"I had a nightmare."

"That sucks. Do you want to talk about it?"

"No." He smooths his hands over his Featherman tee shirt. Even without remembering, he can tell it's worn from many nights of sleep. "Um, could you move over? I don't want to be alone right now." Feeling alone leads to feeling bad, which leads to more feeling bad, which leads to a spiral of anxiety.

"Plenty of room. C'mon in." Akira shuffles over in bed, leaving Goro the side he was on. His body heat still radiates from the sheets, the pillow. "Goodnight, Akechi-kun." He moves to face the wall.

Goro lies down beside him, staring at the expanse of his back, the gray sweatshirt he wears. If the lights were on, he considers, I bet it would match his eyes. His eyes, his lashes. Stop. Don't think about that.

Akira's arm is at an awkward angle, curled around his own stomach. Goro shifts around again, getting comfortable on the sheets. His hand is loose, his nails painted black. "You're tense. Are you staring at me?"

"What? Don't be stupid." Goro scoffs.

"Say what's on your mind. You'll feel better about it."

Goro grumbles under his breath.

"Sorry, I couldn't hear you. Try again, maybe?"

"Ugh! Can I... hold your hand? I'm... I don't remember my dream, but it was intense. I wouldn't call it a nightmare but it made me... sad. Really sad."

Akira is so quiet Goro thinks he's fallen asleep. Then, "Be my guest. Whatever helps you."

Goro leans over him to clasp his hand. A flame flickers in his neurons, his veins. His heart pumps in his chest. His eyes still sting. But his rampaging worries, the concerns about his memory loss, are blissfully silent.

Goro Akechi gets the best night of sleep he's had in his short existence.

Chapter Text

Goro Akechi wakes in unfamiliar arms. He dares not open his eyes, break the spell that binds him in this spot. He doesn't want to leave the moment, even as he starts to overheat. What a thing, to be held like this. He almost feels desired.

He moves to get out of the bed (which he now realizes was not good for his back, being supported by milk crates and all), but stubborn arms pin him in place. He's almost annoyed at this point, eyes narrowing habitually - habitually? - until he takes in how Akira looks.

His chin is wet with drool, hair a mess. What he can only refer to as eye goop clutters his eyelashes. Without a second thought, Goro reaches out to wipe it off. Akira's lashes are soft against his thumb. He bites his own lip until it aches. He lets himself sleep in, huddled against Akira's chest, starting to relax into the embrace. 

Has he ever been hugged like this? Has Akira hugged him like this? If that's the case, it's a shame he can't remember. He's so absorbed in this that he almost doesn't notice when his bedmate speaks. "Akechi," he murmurs, in such a hurt tone that Goro flinches, ready to draw back, to sneak downstairs, rummage through the fridge for a decent breakfast.

Goro slowly opens his eyes once again. Akira's are firmly shut, his posture stiff and closed off. "Kurusu-kun?" He inquires softly, tucking his palm under his trembling chin. "Is everything alright?" 

Akira draws Goro nearer, clutching him deathly tight. His head comes to press against Goro's, almost as if to shield him. Tears trickle down onto his forehead from above. Frowning deeply, Goro holds him steady. Tightly, rib-crushingly, enough to steal his breath. His nails gouge into Akira's back through his shirt. "Akira-kun," he tries weakly. They fold in on each other.

"Please," Akira begs, in the most mournful tone Goro has ever heard. "Please don't go..." 

Who knew four words could break a heart so thoroughly? 

"Hey, no," he insists stubbornly. "I'm not going anywhere! I'm right here! Can't you see that? ...This is starting to hurt." 

Akira mumbles something, then speaks toward his ear. "I made a promise. I want to keep it." A voice in the back of his mind blares, he's awake you idiot, he just woke up, he's not dreaming-

Goro swallows hard. What happened between the two of them to make Akira behave like this? What had he been like, before the memory loss?

"What was the promise?" He can't help but ask. "What did you promise me?"

"To be... rivals. Striving towards new heights."

"Rivals in what?" Goro shifts away, which draws an irritated huff out of Akira. Goro silences it by smearing his hand across Akira's cheek, where his tears collect, trickle down. "There's so much I don't know."

Akira bites his lip, hard. Goro can see the way it pales from the pressure. "...I don't think you'd believe me."

"Honestly, at this point, I could believe anything."

Akira pulls away completely. He grabs his phone, then grabs something off of his shelf of various random items. It's a leather glove, speckled with a light coating of dust.

A gnawing pit opens in his stomach. He feels sick, has no idea why. He watches as Akira pulls up a video of a talk show. "What are you doing-?"

"You'll see." His jaw is set tightly. Akira slides the bar towards the middle of the video, messing around with the time until it stops precisely at the moment he wants. He hands the phone to Goro, moving to wrap his arms around him from behind. His face is buried in the material of Goro's shirt. Why won't he look?

Goro Akechi sees his own face. His smile on the screen makes him shiver. It's artificial, practiced. The him that isn't him smiles, says, "I swear, I will catch the Phantom Thieves. They can't get away with this forever." He hears cheering. His ears ring. His eyes burn.

"That's.... me? Who I was? Why do I look like that?"

"Fake? You... let's just say, there was a lot of stuff you kept private from the public."

He tastes bile. "I was a detective... But... who are these Phantom Thieves? What did they do?"

"They... stole hearts of the corrupt, or those so affected by their pain that it caused harm to others. To reform society." Akira's palms rest against Goro's waist, loose, hesitant. He can feel the warmth of them through his shirt.

Goro laughs nervously. "You're acting like you're a Phantom Thief, Kurusu-kun."

Akira is dead quiet. He doesn't move, barely breathes. Goro's heart pounds in his chest.

"But Phantom Thieves are fictional. They're in books, right? Why would there be news about them?"

Akira sighs. "There were incidents in Japan over a several year period. The Phantom Thieves rose up to quash the people who were using these incidents for their own gain."

Goro is shaking. So matter of fact... "So these Phantom Thieves, I wanted to stop them?"

"To prove yourself, your worth, to others, yes."

"Why the hell would I need to do that?" Goro snarls, spits. He bares his teeth, furious at an unseen Akira. "What would catching them prove? I'm for reforming society! People will look at you like you're less than nothing for something you have no control over!"

Akira tenses up. His fingers squeeze, lightly, to reassure. Goro's pissed that it actually works, lets some of the steam of his anger evaporate. 

"Things happen to people that change them. Sometimes they have a completely new outlook on life afterwards."

"Akira," he bites out. "Akira Kurusu. I know basic deduction. If we're rivals, and I was to take down the Phantom Thieves-"

"Alright, you caught me." He can hear the cockiness, feel the smile against his shoulder blade. "I'm a Phantom Thief, out to steal your heart."

Goro feels his ears burn. He shakes his head, trying to erase his flustered reaction. "Did I catch you? Did I end up getting what I wanted?"

"You caught me, yeah. But... I don't think you got what you wanted."

Goro is puzzled. The rage foaming in his mouth has cooled off. "What was it?"

Akira releases him, rises to his feet. "I don't think you're ready for that yet. For now, I'm going to teach you how to make coffee, Leblanc-style. Busy day ahead of us and all, right, Akechi...-kun?"

Goro gets out of bed, not meeting Akira's eyes. "Right, Kurusu-kun." He feels a part of him shrivel up, resentful. Distantly, he hears the sound of rattling iron. His chest feels tight. Closer to the truth. He's closer to who he was. But does he really want to know that person, barbs below the surface of his skin? Just what was that Goro Akechi capable of?

The leather glove sits forgotten on Akira's pillow.

Chapter Text

Several days pass in relative peace. Akira shows Goro the ropes, training him as a temporary staff member of Leblanc when he's not busy with his studies or maintaining his social life. 

Sojiro comes and goes and says nothing about the hitman who's become his barista. Akira gets the feeling Futaba has something to do with that.

Every night, Goro has a nightmare. Or he cannot sleep. Or that he thinks too much on his own. So Akira obliges, moves on over, becoming more acquainted with what's now his side of the bed. They wake up entwined. They don't really acknowledge it.

It's Friday when Ann visits Leblanc, bringing warm March air inside with her. "Hey, Akira-kun!" She greets jovially. "I brought gifts."

"Gifts, plural?" Akira responds, not even looking up from stirring a pot of curry. Its signature aroma fills the cafe, a scent Akira associates with home. 

"Mmhm! Is it cool if I hang here a bit?"

"You don't even need to ask, Ann-chan." Akira sets the lid on the pot, turning to look at where Goro stands, scooping Jamaican Blue Mountain from the jar to grind. "Goro-kun, this is my friend, Ann Takamaki."

"Oh," he mumbled, setting down the grinder and offering a hand for her to shake. "I'm Goro Akechi. It's nice to meet you, Takamaki-san."

She freezes a moment, clearly shaken, then takes his hand and gives a friendly handshake. "How are you settling in? Akira-kun's told me all about you." Ann isn't being hostile; it's clear to Akira that this is an effort to tease him, not Goro.

"Well, Goro-kun's pretty interesting. It's hard not to chat everyone's ears off about him." Akira serves up his trademarked, charm-infused wink with a mischievous smirk on the side. "This batch is almost ready, are you hungry? We could take a break."

"Yeah, I could go for some!" Ann smiles, sitting down in what's basically become the Phantom Thieves of Hearts' official booth. No customers usually sit there, someone always tends to drop by and fill the space. After the meeting on Akechi's situation, no one has dropped by yet.

Akira plates three servings of curry, setting the dishes down on the table. He sits down across from Ann, trying to read her. She doesn't seem angry, sad, or even anxious. If anything, she looks to be curious. In her lap is a large gift bag. Its contents are hidden by red tissue paper. 

"Would you like some coffee, Akira-kun, Takamaki-san?" Akira's attention is thoroughly rerouted to Goro, with his apron on, his hair tied back in a messy updo. He had been so distracted by making the curry that he hadn't really noticed before. He says something that might be yeah, that's fine! but is actually most likely sure with an undertone of oh, holy shit.

Ann giggles, amused by his reaction. "Coffee sounds great, Akechi-san." 

Goro pours the brew into three glasses, placing them with their matching plates. He slides into the booth beside Akira, where his plate has already been set up. "So, what gifts did you bring, Takamaki-san?" 

"Right to the point like always, Akechi-kun." Ann's phone chimes faintly. As she rifles through the gift bag, Akira spares a glance at Goro. His shoulders slump an inch or two. Akira gently rests his hand over Goro, trying to reassure him.

Goro tenses, but after a moment, locks their fingers together tightly. Akira keeps a straight face, acting like his hand is not in a vice, as Ann finally finds what she was digging for, with a triumphant, "Yes!" 

She drops a small, wooden basket on the table. Rubbing the back of her neck, she chuckles softly. "Sorry that took so long. I put, like, a ton of tissue paper in there."

Goro inspects it, stroking his chin. "Hm. A picnic basket?"

Ann nods, steepling her hands. "Yep. You can open it, you know."

With a soft, "Oh," Goro opens its flaps. Upon a neatly folded, checkered blanket sits two prepackaged lunches, a bag of rice crackers, an uji matcha flan, and two bottles of juice, dewy from the fridge.

"Are we going on a picnic, Ann-chan?" Akira asks, genuinely perplexed as to why she would gift them food when they legitimately all have food in front of them, right now.

"We aren't. You two are." Ann offers up her own devastating wink, pushing her pair of sunglasses down onto the bridge of her nose. Through them, Akira can faintky see her eyes flicker to Leblanc's door, then back to the two of them. "Think of it as a special treat. Boss said Akechi-kun's been working so hard for the past few days, so... me and Makoto chipped in and got you guys a treat."

"We're having a picnic... in Leblanc..." Akira narrows his eyes.

"No, silly!" Ann sets one 500 yen coin down on the tabletop, flicking it towards Akira. He automatically catches it, his hand moving before his brain. "You two are going to Inokashira Park. I've heard the weather is really nice there today." 

Akira can hear voices outside the door, muffled by the walls. Familiar voices. Ann's phone goes off again. This time, he registers that it's under the table. Her practiced typing under her desk at school comes to mind. It takes everything in him not to turn his head and look through the window. "Oh, really? Aren't you free today, Ann-chan? Why don't you want to come?"

"Actually," she replies, pouting. "Something just came up. It's really, really important. Go on without me." The voices recede. They're spreading out.

"If you say so, Ann. But- do you want me to do the dishes first? What a waste of coffee and curry." He tips his head to the side, looking into the kitchen. The dishes are starting to pile up in the sink.

Ann laughs sheepishly, but her voice holds a hint of irritation. "Aw, come on, Akira! I'll take care of it." He knows the Thieves will eat it, enjoy the coffee, too.

"Well, do you wanna go?" He nudges Goro's shoulder with his own. Goro's grip has loosened enough to be comfortable. His nails scrape Akira's knuckles, sending a pleasant shiver up his spine. 

Goro pretends to think about it, hums. He lets go of Akira and leaves the booth, hanging his apron on the rack. "Well, if Boss says it's okay. I haven't been to Inokashira Park. Akira-kun, won't you show me around?" Akira, dumbfounded, watches as Goro Akechi, former detective prince and hitman, pouts as well. 

"I don't see why not!" He hurries to take off his apron, and Ann hands him the basket. As Goro heads for the door, Ann grabs his arm. "It's hard to believe," she whispers, squeezing his wrist, "but he is completely different. He doesn't remember me at all."

"You guys don't have to have a meeting without me." Akira swallows disappointment, and it settles heavily in his stomach. 

"Not everyone's ready for Akechi yet. And you two have been attached at the hip."

"Pretty much."

"So I figured you guys should have a date about it before customers leave a review about the homoerotic energy dominating the place."

"Hey, come on..."

Ann shoots him a quizzical look. 

"Alright, fine. Say hi to everyone for me. And tell Futaba I can't wait to see her and Yusuke in a few days."

"Tell them yourself, Joker."

"You'll see them first." Akira pats her hand, then pulls away. As he leaves Leblanc, he waves goodbye to her and pretends not to notice six pairs of footsteps echoing down the backstreet, the repeated jingle of the door's bell. 

"Takamaki-san was right, the weather is quite lovely today." Goro shakes out the blanket, setting it on the ground. From their spot, they have a good vantage point of the lake. Akira settles in, grabs a bottle of juice. Uncapping it, he takes a good long sip. Damn it, it's delicious.

Goro takes a seat right beside him, and then leans his head on his shoulder. Akira resists flinching or doing something humiliating, like screaming with joy or collapsing dead from embarrassment or perhaps even blushing bright red.

Nope, he's totally blushing bright red.

"It was nice of her and this Makoto person to put together something for us." Goro bends to grab the flan, takes a spoonful and sighs blissfully. "Oh, my goodness, this is delectable. Where is this from?"

"If I had to guess, the supermarket in the underground mall."

He looks at Akira, beaming. "I would like to go there afterwards, if we have time."

"Yeah, there's probably room in the fridge for one." Akira adjusts his glasses.

"Just one?" And once again, a pout. Is he going to do this all the time now?

"We can always go back again to get more."

"Well put." 

Akira tries, he really does, to watch the people in their duck boats go by, but he can't stop looking at Goro. Goro, who's closed his eyes. His hair blows in the gentle breeze. He's got a dried coffee stain on the sleeve of his button up. Akira always basks in Goro Akechi's presence. But this time, a switch has been flipped. He feels... soft. He wants to be tender, to make Goro dinner and buy him sweets and hold him. He wants to kiss him goodnight.

He wants to kiss him right now, too.

Goro pokes him, looking up at him. "You're quiet today. What are you thinking about?"

Akira can only answer, "You." 

The way Goro looks at him makes all his hair stand on end. He's pinned in place by his eyes. Goro licks his lips. "The me you knew. The me that isn't me. What was he like?"

He tosses his head back, directs his gaze up at the blue, blue sky. "Ruthless. Ambitious. He had a hole in your heart that you wanted to fill with... the approval of an authority figure. I'll leave it at that."

Goro nestles closer to him, molding himself to Akira's side. His hair tickles Akira's neck. He holds onto him, not too loosely, not too tightly. "Well, I find that kind of absurd."

"It makes a lot more sense in context, I think."

Goro sighs, pulls Akira to lay down. The sun is warm on their skin, bathing them in golden light. "You know... I'm not sure if I'm ready to know who I was before."

Akira swallows nervously, then strokes Goro's hair. "Why... Why is that, exactly?"

"Akira. Clearly there's a reason you don't want to tell me. And... well, isn't it obvious? All of your friends act strangely around me. There must have been something I did to cause that kind of rift."

Finally, Akira says it. "There was. A couple of things, actually. But that's the thing. You don't remember doing all of that. You're not that same person. So it's not your fault, it's the fault of the Goro Akechi that used to exist."

"The Goro Akechi that used to exist," he hears. There is a tremor in Goro's voice, and Akira pulls him closer, wanting to protect him from the hurt.

"You're not that Goro Akechi, Goro-kun. So, that's not who you are. You don't have to figure everything out now. You haven't even been out of the hospital for an entire week yet. You have your whole life ahead of you. You know what I think?"

"What?"

He cradles Goro's neck gently, so gently, like he's fragile. "I think you should do whatever you want to do. Do what makes you happy and healthy, on your own terms. You deserve that."

"Do whatever I want to do..." Goro echoes, pulling back to look at him. His eyes are wide, full of possibility. "Anything at all?"

"I mean, probably? As long as it's not a crime, it should be fine." Akira shrugs.

Goro hesitates for some time. He takes a sip from his own bottle, sitting while Akira still lays on the blanket. Akira closes his eyes for a few moments, enjoying the cool air. He opens them again when Goro lightly runs the pad of his thumb up the inside of his wrist, over his blue, blue veins. 

"I think I've come up with something."

"Yeah? What's up, Goro-kun?" 

"Can I kiss you?"

"Yeah, that's fi-" Wait. WAIT.

WAIT WAIT WAIT WAIT.

WHAT?

"Wh- You want to kiss me? That's the first thing you want to do?"

"If you don't want to, I completely understand."

"No! I mean, um. Go ahead?"

"Alright. Sorry if it's bad, I'm not used to this."

Goro Akechi leans in and presses his lips to Akira Kurusu's. It's a bit awkward. Goro doesn't know where to put his lips. Akira doesn't really, either. He's only kissed someone once, and viciously at that. Not this slow exchange of lips, tongue, breath. He hears the clanging of chains, of iron bars, echoing in his head. He can't focus on it. All he can think about is Goro, of both of them here in this moment, untethered to past and future, truly free.

They finish their picnic, smiling the entire time. The food is good, and the company even better.

On the way home, Akira buys Goro another uji matcha flan. They go to sleep in the same bed without words. In the darkness, Akira runs a hand over Goro's back. He feels Goro hum against his chest, and he places a kiss on the crown of his head. 

He dreams only of this Goro, and not the Goro Akechi he once knew.

Chapter Text

It's the night before Futaba and Yusuke come over to meet Goro. 

It's become routine for them to fall asleep together. Akira slides his arms around Goro's waist, keeping him close. Goro pulls a blanket over the both of them. Akira grins happily and presses a short, sweet kiss to his lips in thanks. "Goodnight," he whispers.

"Goodnight, Akira," comes the response. 

He drifts off to sleep with ease.

Akira wakes up in a cell. His eyes shoot open, as he rises to sit up. There's no longer a door of iron bars on his cell; that changed after Igor was restored to the Velvet Room. 

But that begs the question: Why was he even in the Velvet Room in the first place?

He hasn't been back since Maruki's palace. He hasn't felt the need to. 

Akira gets to his feet. He's still wearing the stripes of a prisoner of fate, which is honestly baffling, since he's never felt so free.

"Igor? Lavenza? What's going on? Is there some threat?" He slowly walks to the doorframe, peering through. 

He can see no attendant, no Igor. All he sees is Goro Akechi, in stripes as well, at the cell directly across from him.

"Wh- Goro? What are you doing here?"

"You... you motherfucker. After all we've been through, you want to forget me that easily?" He rattles the door to his cell, trying to tear it off of his hinges. 

"I don't understand, what are you talking about?" Akira feels his breaths start to become panicked. "Goro, what's going on?"

But Goro Akechi continues on, ignoring his pleas. "I see how it is." His expression distorts into that of an angry smile. "Honestly, what should I have expected? For some stupid reason, I had thought you would wait more than a week before discarding me. Like trash. Imagine that! Attic trash throwing me away. I must be worse, then."

Akira's hands begin to shake of their own accord. A cold sweat slithers down his back. He reaches out, towards the normally impassable doorframe...

His arm breaches through. Then his leg. Akira steps outside of the confines of his cell, walking around the desk to arrive in front of Goro Akechi.

He looks horrible. Dark circles beneath his eyes, hair falling in damp tendrils. He watches as this Goro backs away, towards the cot in his cell.

Akira grits his teeth. His hands reach out to wrench at the bars. He can move them, but not enough to free him. "Tell me what's going on. I'm serious right now. I have no idea why I'm here, or why you're here. All I know is that you lost your memories because of the injuries you sustained."

"Akira Kurusu," Akechi snarls. "You're a fucking idiot if you think it's that simple."

"What, I'm just supposed to know everything?" He huffs. "I did the best I could with what I knew."

This seems to take the edge off, at least slightly. "I suppose I didn't make it easy for you." 

Akira's voice softens. He reaches his hand through the bars. "If you dragged me here, you're clearly upset about something. So what is it?" He sighs, reaches further towards Akechi. "You know... When I found out you were gone, I was inconsolable. It was so hard to believe that I had you, but you weren't you. You had lost those things that made up what I knew as Goro Akechi-"

Akechi blurts, "I asked for my memories to be erased."

Akira instantly withdraws his hand from within the cell. "What?"

"I asked... Lavenza to erase my memories. So that I could start over. Without the crimes I had committed weighing on me."

"So, then, why do you want to remember who you are so badly?"

Akechi sighs heavily, finally enticed to walk up to the door. "Let me explain this in a way you can comprehend. You're getting caught up in what you think is true. So, the truth. The me in my body? That's not me. That's another me Lavenza produced from my memories before I worked for Masoyoshi Shido. A me who, quite literally, hasn't done things I have. A me who's the same age, with a gap in memories. It's like I never existed."

Akechi wraps his fingers around the bars, looking exhausted. "But that's the thing. I wasn't deleted. I'm stuck here until I finish my "sentence", whatever that means. Whatever Lavenza decides it means, anyway."

"So, then, why are you mad at me?"

Akechi hangs his head, hair hiding his face. "Because I thought you'd fight to see me a little more."

Akira hesitantly reaches out again. He places his palm on Akechi's head. "I do miss you. I do want to see you. But this... definitely complicates things. A lot."

"I know. I can see the things you do sometimes, when I have the energy. But I'm not in my body, it's more accurate to say... I'm above the scene, observing."

"Wait, you can see...?"

"I saw you kiss him, Kurusu."

Akira's heart feels like a lump of lead in his chest.

"I see the way you take care of him. It's so different than I would have thought... We always fought tooth and nail. I've been so... What was it that you said? Ruthless?"

"Akechi..."

"So, I'm Akechi, and he's Goro-kun? Goro? The boy you kiss and hold and-" Akechi sinks down to the floor. "I've known you longer. It's not fair. Why isn't it me that's in my body? Still there? Why couldn't it have been me who had never done those things, not him? I'm stuck here."

He hears Akechi start to sob, and his leaden heart weighs him down further. "Akechi... Goro, hey... Not if you finish your sentence, right?"

Goro Akechi finally looks up at him. "I don't know what will happen to him if that happens. If you care for him so much... perhaps it's best if he stays in my body and I stay behind."

Akira wipes Akechi's tears away. "Don't say that. I... Look, I need some time. This is a lot to deal with. But... I think the best course of action would be to try and complete your sentence. Whatever that involves. If I open the door to the Velvet Room in Tokyo, will you be there? Or is it only in dreams?"

"I'm not sure. It wouldn't hurt to try." Akechi shrugs.

"Then we can meet up and discuss how we'll do this."

"Understood, Joker."

The codename tugs at his heartstrings. Akira lightly smooths his thumb over Goro's bottom lip. "You know I love you, right? I do. I have for a long time. It's like breathing to me. That doesn't lessen how I feel about that part of you, the hopeful part. They're both you. Not the same you. In different stages of life, maybe. But you have to know I would do anything to help you."

Goro Akechi nods, leans into his touch like a sunflower on a bright day. "Yes, yes. I know. It's just... so hard to watch you kiss me when I'm not there."

Akira nods. Slowly, he pulls his arm back. He watches as Akechi's expression morphs into one of disappointment. "Our first order of business is figuring out what to do about the chains on this door. If I do something in the real world, perhaps they'll come off. That's how the cognitive world tends to work."

"I see. Farewell, Joker."

Akira salutes him. Then he jolts awake, back in his body once more.

Goro Akechi's body shifts next to him, blinking sleepily. "What's wrong? Is everything alright?"

Akira's heart aches, for the Goro Akechi locked away, for this new Goro Akechi Lavenza brought into the world, for himself, unsure of what to do next. "Yeah, I'm fine."

"Bad dream?" Goro kisses his cheek, cupping his chin. He feels so real. 

"No, I can't say it was bad... it was just kind of confusing."

"Mm. Dreams are like that sometimes. I've definitely had some."

"What do you dream of, Goro?" Akira tucks Goro's hair behind his ear. 

"Well, I-" Goro stops. Seems to zone out, taking on a confused tone of voice. "I don't actually remember my dreams. What happens in them. After I wake up, they're gone."

Akira thinks of doors chained shut. Of memories locked away. Are the dreams tied to the chains, maybe? Or is it something else? The memories he doesn't have? Something to do with the cognitive world? "Hm. Well, maybe next time you dream, you'll remember."

"I hope so." Goro stretches, gets comfortable again. "Come on, Akira. We have a long day tomorrow."

"Okay, okay..." Akira closes his eyes.

He doesn't fall asleep until hours later.

Chapter Text

Finally, the deadline comes. Goro's halfway through scrubbing off a particularly stubborn piece of gum from the underside of the counter when the door swings open. Immediately, the perpetrator tenses up. 

"Oh, geez. I thought I would be prepared for the weirdness." Her hand fumbles for another, belonging to the boy standing next to her. They both wear mildly uncomfortable expressions. 

The silence is dreadful, then he hears the saving grace of Akira's footsteps bounding down the stairs. He waves in greeting, then taking in the dreary atmosphere in the room, nods politely. "Alright. Futaba, Yusuke. This is Goro Akechi." He wraps an arm around a now standing Goro's shoulder. 

"We have observed that, yes." The boy, Yusuke, scratches his chin. "This experience is quite surreal, though."

Goro swallows a lump in his throat the size of a rock, then greets them. "Hello. It's nice to meet you both. Though I'm assuming we've met before, given your... shall we say... averse reactions."

Futaba's chin wobbles slightly, but when Yusuke's thumb brushes her knuckles in a calming pattern, she untenses. "Yeah. We've met."

"Should I also assume you are members of the Phantom Thieves as well?" From the way both of them flinch, he knows. "I'll take that as a yes."

"You told him already? That means he's gotta be, like, five levels higher than I thought he was!" Futaba steps further into the room, drawing Goro's attention to the cat carrier at her side. Ah, right. Morgana, Akira's cat. 

As Akira bends and opens the cat carrier, Morgana slinks out, baring his teeth. Goro expects a visceral hsssss. Instead, what he gets is words. "Are you sure we can trust Akechi?"

Akira shrugs his shoulders, nonplussed. "I've trusted him with my life before and things worked out fine."

Futuba shuffles awkwardly. Yusuke looks away, at a striking painting on the wall. Goro's stomach curdles at the implication that, no, things did not work out fine. 

When he regains the ability to speak, he is unable to say anything eloquently. All he can blubber out is, "Your cat can talk?" in the smallest voice possible. 

Everyone in the room turns to him. Futuba slumps over into Yusuke with a relieved noise. His nerves seem calmed as well, as he traces lines and shapes over her back.

Morgana curls around Akira's leg. "Okay, yeah. I don't think he'd freak out like that if he remembered."

Akira hauls the cat into his arms, cradling him like one would a baby. "Yeah... I forgot to tell him that. Goro, long story short, my cat can talk. You could ask me how and why but if I explained it, it wouldn't really make sense."

Goro quakes. He wets his dry lips, wipes his clammy hands on his pants. His eyes are locked onto the innocent blue eyes of a feline. He's afraid of a cat. A cat! Ridiculous.

Akira scratches his scalp, lazily glances at the stairway. "You guys wanna come upstairs? Futaba, I got a Featherman game last time I went to Akihabara."

Futaba's joyous gasp is so sweet. It melts the lump his heart has been for the past twenty minutes, too scared to beat. She pulls away from Yusuke and makes a mad dash up the stairs. "Heck yeah!" 

Yusuke watches her go, and the look on his face speaks volumes. It's so fond. Briefly, he wonders if that's how he looks at Akira, who holds his heart and doesn't crush it, cares for him in a way he can't possibly comprehend.

Yusuke steps past Goro, like he's a fragile trinket, then pats Akira stoically on the head. He says nothing, but his face holds an emotion Goro doesn't know him well enough to intuit. Akira whispers something to him, then Yusuke is off and upstairs, Morgana close on his heels. 

Akira turns to him. He's biting his cheek. "You coming upstairs?"

Goro answers him by slipping past him and up the stairwell. Futaba and Yusuke are arranged on the floor, Morgana laying across Yusuke's legs. The TV on the table is one, displaying a familiar title screen. 

"Oh, wait," Goro murmurs, going to sit by Akira's vintage console. A smile dawns on his face. "I played this as a kid. It was difficult, but it was Featherman, so I loved it. I was obsessed with Featherman."

Futaba blinks a few times behind her glasses, leans foward on her heels. "Oh, really? I love Featherman. Who's your favorite?" Wiggling her fingers, she adds, "This decision will have consequences."

"Well, let me think." Goro shifts over, leaving room for Akira beside him. He takes the newly free space, brushing a finger over Goro's palm. He stifles the giggle that rises in his throat, tries to look serious. "I like Red. He always makes sound decisions, and team trusts him."

"But he's sooooo uptight!" Futaba huffs. "I like Pink Swan, she's sweet, but knows when to be serious in the situation." 

"Pink is good, yes." He nods in agreement. "She's just not my favorite."

"Eh, I can see that." 

Akira clears his throat, offering Futaba the controller. "Wanna play?"

"Oh, yeah!" She beams, taking it from him and starting up the game. It's an old rpg. The story isn't bad, but rather, quite simple. It was easy enough for him to understand when he played it and replayed it; It was the only game he had for his console. His mother never said it outright, but he determined it cost more than she should have spent on him, of all things, when money was tight. His mother... He felt a pang.

It's about an hour later when Futaba rubs her eyes, setting down the controller. She'd made to a boss, but it was giving her a lot of trouble. Goro refrained from suggesting help, knowing that would only increase her frustration. "I'm beat. Yusuke, do you want to play?" 

Yusuke, who had been sketching, shakes his head. "No, I'm alright. I would have more fun watching you play." He holds up the sketchbook, which has an impressive ink sketch of Futaba in a Featherman suit, helmet in her hands. The brush strokes... Goro has never seen such impressive ink art. And he had made it in less than an hour?

"Inari, that's so cool! Can I have this?"

"Be my guest." 

He hands it to her, and she takes the page out, holding the page to her chest. "I will treasure this. It's going on my wall with the other stuff you draw me." 

Yusuke stands, leaving several bags of snacks Akira gifted to him on the ground, empty. "Thank you for the food, Akira-kun."

"Of course. I can't let my friends go hungry in my own room. You guys heading out?"

Futaba nods silently, pulling Yusuke towards the stairs, hand in hand. "I have to pay for this one's train fare. I'll text you. Bye, Akira." As she stands on the top step, she gives a small wave to Goro. It's not much, but it gives him hope. "Goodbye, Akechi-san... Oh, wait, before I go– Akira, Ryuji said to text him back."

"Text him ba-? Oh, shit. I forgot again." Akira takes out his phone, typing quickly. His brow furrows. "I can't believe it slipped my mind."

Futaba gives Akira a meaningful look he doesn't see, then glances between him and Goro. His stomach sinks like an anchor in water, down, down to the bottom of the sea. Is it because of me?

Yusuke and Futaba head downstairs, then out of his sight completely. Akira finishes up his texts, setting his phone on his desk. "Well. That went better than expected."

Goro hears the phone buzz as it goes off. Both of his eyebrows raise, pensive. "Are you going to answer that?" 

Akira gnaws on his lip, then opens it up. His eyes widen, if only for a fraction of a second, then he responds. Goro watches him mute notifications, then plug it in to charge. "Okay, answered. Did you like them?"

"They seem... nice. If a bit quiet."

"Yeah, they start off that way. I didn't think talking would help, so I decided on parallel play."

"Parallel play?"

"Us all doing our own thing in the same room. I wanted to get them accustomed to you being around with as least stress as possible."

"...I see." Again, that lump in his throat, that jump of his heart, like a bad omen. "Well, tell them I enjoyed their company."

"Will do." Akira salutes him in such a cheesy way that he almost forgets his doubts, the fear creeping through his veins. Almost.

Goro Akechi lies awake. The thoughts in his head churn ceaselessly. The way they reacted upon seeing me. Like they were... frightened of me. It's unsettling. The way Akira handles me with kid gloves, like he's afraid I'll break if I know everything. I'm tired of it. I'm tired of everyone walking on eggshells around me.

An image flashes behind his closed eyes. He's back in the hospital where it all began. Akira had given him a bouquet. But within the bouquet...

There had been a note. Where had he put it?

Goro slowly rises into a sitting position, slowly escaping from Akira's sleeping embrace. As quietly as he can, he crosses the old wooden floorboards. As he makes his way to the desk, one creaks. His heart hammers in his chest as his eyes dart to where Akira lays, expecting him to wake. He only rolls over, muttering in his sleep.

He turns back towards the desk. There's a drawer within it, and this room... Needless to say, it seems like there aren't many other places to put something like that. That is, if Akira even kept it. Smoothing his hand over it, he feels a keyhole. A new worry wells up. Where would the key be? Goro huffs and tries opening the drawer without it. He yanks once, twice, and on the third time, it opens. It looks slightly too big for the desk, as if it's from another desk entirely.

Within, Goro finds what he's looking for. A small, square envelope, just the right size. His hand reaches for it, and he pulls it out. Only the back of the paper is visible to him.

A voice rings out within the confines of his head.

Stop now while you can. Once you look at it, there's no going back.

For some reason, he humors this voice. Are you my conscience?

...Something like that.

So, why shouldn't I look?

I have a bad feeling about what's on it.

I've had a bad feeling all week.

Are you prepared to do this? I don't advise this. Please, think about what you're doing.

It's only a note. It likely only says "get well soon". Akira is the kind of soppy to say that.

Have you ever heard the myth of Pandora's box?

...What?

Have you heard of it? Pandora's box. When a Greek woman named Pandora married, she found her husband had a mysterious box. She became curious. Her husband told her not to open it, which made her even more curious about its contents. Eventually she could handle the curiosity no more and opened the box. Within lie every curse and plague upon mankind, and she let them loose.

But that's not the entire myth. Wasn't hope also within that box? I'm going to open it.

I'm sorry.

Why are you sorry? You're me. Goro starts to turn it over. The answers are so close. Damn what my conscience says. I'm looking at it.

I can't let you do that.

Ice-cold fear knifes his heart. Mid-turn, his arm halts. In shock, he takes in the sight before him. The arm he felt hanging by his side a moment ago is gripping the other tightly, preventing him from touching the slip. He hadn't done it himself. The arm, out of nowhere, grabbed the other of its own volition.

Chills rake up and down his spine. You're not my conscience at all. What are you?

I'm not a what.

Goro starts to shake uncontrollably. Why? It's just a note.

I can't take any chances. 

You're me. You're me, aren't you? What did you do that was so bad you don't want me to know about? What about you is Akira not telling me?

Upon mentioning Akira, the voice, the other him, almost sounds on the verge of crying. Please. Forget it. Let yourself forget. Let yourself start over. Put the drawer away. Go back to bed. You'll forget this ever happened. It'll be like you dreamed it.

The hand isn't gripping him in a painful way, it's only keeping him from rotating his wrist. It's holding back. It's going to eat me up inside if I don't know! Goro yanks his arm free, fingers latching onto the note like it's a lifeline. Before he can second guess himself, he flips it over.

The ink is slightly smeared, but still legible. It's more text than he had expected, about the length of a short letter. The voice in his head screams, wails, claws at the walls of his brain. His eyes trace the words:

Dear Akechi,

We've come a long way since you (sort of) killed me.

All higher brain functions halt in their tracks. 

You killed me. You killed me. You killed me. It echoes through him, every bone, every blood vessel, every muscle freezing solid. He can't move. He can't think. The only thing he can do is read onwards.

Your past has been a hard one, I know. There's things you've done you don't want to ever think about. I wouldn't wish your circumstances upon anyone. But it's those circumstances (and Yaldabaoth, and your douchebag dad) that led to us meeting. There are things I regret about my year of parole, too. But I don't regret knowing you, even if you planned to kill me from the start. I would walk through fire for you. I would do anything for you. Would you like to be my eternal rival again?

-Joker

He should feel touched by the sentiment. But his brain keeps skipping like a broken record.

Planned to kill me from the start. Planned to kill me from the start. 

His other self makes a noise like an animal locked in the jaws of a beartrap. He can't hear it over the ringing in his ears. It's all he can do to put the note back in its place, shut the drawer quietly with trembling palms.

Akira's phone screen lights up soundlessly. It's still muted from before. On the screen is a text from Ryuji.

ryuji: i'm just worried about ya, that's all. he betrayed us. he kill...

The rest of the message doesn't fit in the notification bar. Without thinking, he swipes it open. There's no further I can sink.

Except he's wrong.

ryuji: i'm just worried about ya, that's all. he betrayed us. he killed haru's dad and futaba's mom. look, if it'll make ya happy, i'll see him. but i want to talk with you alone first. gym tmrw @ 2:30. pls akira.

He turns off the screen. He doesn't think about it, it just happens. Was his past self giving him a courtesy?

Haru's dad, Futaba's mom... Images flash before his eyes, like a grotesque slideshow. People, countless people, in strange outfits, with monstrous temperaments, all looking miserable. A gun enters his field of view, grasped by a gloved hand. His hand. A gunshot, countless gunshots, ringing out. He can see what lies beyond them through the holes the bullets make, before they become black dust and scatter to the winds.

He sees Akira, with a gun to his head. A gun to his head. In his hand. In his hand is the gun. His trigger finger is tense. His arm shakes. He needs to stop shaking. He has to aim correctly. How will his story make sense otherwise? Bleeding on the floor is a guardsman. His blood puddles in his shoes. There is a massive lump in his throat. He steels his heart. No matter. He cannot falter now, when he is so close. I cannot throw away this chance. Even if... No more thinking. He fires.

His insides seize, gnashing like wild dogs. He drops the phone as if it's burned him. Goro goes down the stairs as fast as his legs can carry him, pulls the bathroom door shut. He is violently sick in Leblanc's toilet. He dry heaves on his knees for what feels like hours, wiping vomit from his chin to keep it from crusting. 

He disinfects every square inch of the bathroom, then goes upstairs and lies in bed next to Akira. He doesn't dare touch him. He doesn't deserve to. 

Instead, he runs a hand over the possessed arm, the arm that was him-but-not-him. Despite his disgust, his insides roiling, he comforts where he believes it lies. Was that how he always felt? So disgusted with himself? So sick to his stomach? He offers what little comfort he can. It's all he's capable of.

Chapter Text

Akira blearily wakes to a too-quiet room. He feels around in the bed, only to find himself alone. Quickly, he sits bolt upright. Where's Goro? He thinks back to a closed shutter, gunshots, the horrible silence in their wake, slamming his fists against it until he could feel blood trickle inside his gloves. He pictures Goro slipping away into thin air, as if he never existed. All he finds, after a frenzied search of his room, is a note on his desk, scribbled in red ink.

Sorry if I scared you. Went to go grab some groceries for the fridge - We're out of curry supplies again. Don't wait for me, I have some other errands to do first. I'll see you later.

-Goro

Akira takes a deep breath once, twice, three times. Goro Akechi is okay. He's not dead in a ditch somewhere. Stop worrying so much. After he's calmed down significantly, he unplugs his phone. New notifications from Ryuji appear on the screen, so he opens their chat.

ryuji: man are you seriously leaving me on read again????

ryuji: fine. whatever. come or don't. it's whatever.

Above them is a text he doesn't remember reading. With the business of the previous day, he must have opened the chat but not looked at the message. Arsène for some reason scoffs at the thought of it, but he puts his input aside for the moment.

ryuji: i'm just worried about ya, that's all. he betrayed us. he killed haru's dad and futaba's mom. look, if it'll make ya happy, i'll see him. but i want to talk with you alone first. gym tmrw @ 2:30. pls akira.

Akira checks the time. It's nearly one already. He puts together a rushed breakfast (of mostly toast), grabs his gym bag, and heads out into Yongen-Jaya. The streets are quieter than usual, and the air is hazy with heat. The alley cats he passes look at him warily, trying to determine whether he's a threat. Several hiss, and they all steer clear of Leblanc. Strange, thinks Akira, I leave milk out for them, and they'll nuzzle my legs. He doesn't really have the time to consider whatever is bothering him about Yongen, that tickle in the back of his brain. He enters the station, and takes the next train to Shibuya. 

The crowds are normal, massive as usual. The sun beats down, even though summer is quite some time away. Akira wipes sweat from his brow, from heat or from nerves, it doesn't matter to him, not really. By the time he enters the crush of the Shibuya scramble, it's two. Not wanting to arrive too early, Akira takes a detour to a nearby conbini and picks up snacks he thinks Ryuji will like. Savory things, spicy chips, a protein bar he knows he likes. By the time he's paid for everything, it's 2:15, so he makes his way over to the gym.

Even though it's been months since he's last been inside, everything in the gym is exactly the same as always. There are dumbells, stationary bikes, and treadmills, one of which Ryuji is currently on. The speed is set low, to accommodate Ryuji's injury, but once he sees Akira and powers it down, he still winces in pain once he steps down off of it. Automatically, Akira supports his weight with his body, helping Ryuji stand. 

Ryuji mops sweat from his face and hair with the towel around his neck. "So you did show up."

"Of course I did, why wouldn't I?" Akira smiles at him, letting go once Ryuji taps his back twice, the signal that he's good to walk.

"We haven't talked lately, is all."

Because the Aeon moved in, Arsène supplies. Suddenly, Akira has the urge to swat him.

"I'm real sorry I've been putting it off. I've just been busy."

"Real busy with Goro Akechi," Ryuji spits, sourly. As if he's cursing, as he hates the taste of that name in his mouth.

"Not like that," Akira says, gritting his teeth. Ire climbs up into his chest, nesting there, but instead of getting upset with Ryuji, he approaches a nearby punching bag. Removing gloves from his gym bag, he lays into it, each left hook, right hook, and uppercut landing cleanly. 

"Sure it's not like that." Ryuji looms in his peripheral vision, arms crossed over his chest. Akira's suddenly aware of the other people around, those lifting weights, their spotters, people doing pull ups and sit ups. The staff, offering people towels and drinks.

He swallows, eyes darting to Ryuji. "We talk about that later. Not now."

Ryuji, thankfully, doesn't press on that front. He nudges Akira's shoulder, and so he's passed the boxing gloves and takes a turn with a bag. He hits hard, practically sending the bag flying. His expertise has always been with physical strikes, it's no wonder he's so good. "I missed training with you, y'know. Got a little rusty coming here without a training partner."

"You know me," Akira says, stretching. "Busy as ever."

"Ain't that the truth."

Once they've both tired of the gym, a long session well spent, Akira takes Ryuji to the diner. "My treat," he insists. "I figure it's a better place to talk things out than the gym, you know."

They're seated at a booth. It's slower than usual, but still decently occupied. Popular music plays through tinny speakers. They order without needing menus. 

Ryuji props his head on his hand, elbow on the table. "It's been so long since it's been just us, man."

Akira nods, leaning back into the bench. "It has. I'm sorry about that, again."

"...It's fine." Ryuji closes his eyes. "Anyways. Talking. You've been spending a lot of time with Akechi. I'm worried about you."

"He's not like that anymore. I'm not saying that because he's changed or feels remorse, or anything like that. I'm saying he literally remembers nothing of it. He's completely different. Far as I know, he remembers everything before Shido offered him a job."

"...For real?" His eyes widen slightly, and he places both palms on the edge of the table. "So, like... he doesn't remember..."

"Anything after that. I've told him stuff, obviously, and he knows basic stuff. He didn't have to learn how to do everything again, but... he feels lost. I don't wanna lead him a particular way, but I wanna make sure he's alright."

Ryuji bites his bottom lip. "But that's not all, right?"

Akira frowns. "Do we really have to talk about this?"

"Yeah, we kinda do have to talk about how you confessed your love to him."

He rubs a hand down his face with a heavy sigh. "Ryuji..."

"That's why you're so fixated on him. Why you spend so much time with him." Ryuji's eyes narrow slightly. "Cuz you love him."

Akira's mouth goes dry. "So what?"

"So what? What about all of us? What about, I don't know, how he betrayed you? How he tried to kill you? How he killed Futaba's mom and Haru's dad?"

"If I was put into the situation he was, what would I have done?"

"I dunno, not killed people? You're pure of heart and all."

He draws in a ragged breath. "I'm really not."

"I believe you are."

"Exactly. You believe in me. Everyone on the team believes in me. I have all of you and all of my other confidants backing me up. But... what if I didn't?"

"Huh?" Ryuji tilts his head in confusion.

"What if I was on parole for a crime I didn't commit, in an unfamiliar city, with no one to trust? With everyone assuming things about me just because of my reputation? Afraid to be seen with me? To look at me...? How would I have turned out then?"

All Ryuji offers is a frustrated noise. "That's not the same–"

"You're right, Ryuji. It's not. Goro was alone for years. And then by becoming famous, in a way... he was even more alone. I'm not saying what he did was justified. I'm just saying, if I was in a hole like that, with no one to help me dig myself out... I would have felt stuck."

Ryuji looks away briefly, down at his hands. His fingers pick at the worn tabletop, leaving chips in its wake. "Akira. He's... not the same Akechi, right? So... why do you still want him? Why didn't you give up?"

"Because I don't give up on anyone I can save," Akira insists, gently, not sternly. "Because it's all I can do."

"Are you sure you want him anyway? Not past Akechi?"

Akira is quiet for a long time. "I don't know for sure, not really. But... I like being around him. He's nice. Still snarky, but not as much. I like making him coffee, and studying with him, and, don't tell him I said this, but he loves to cuddle–"

"I'll see him," Ryuji blurts out. "If it makes you happy."

Akira's eyes are wide behind his glasses. "You will?"

"Yeah." Ryuji smiles a tiny smile. "I'll give it a try."

"That's great," Akira says, and shortly after, their food arrives. They eat, talking about more casual subjects, and after finishing up, Akira pays the bill. After they head back out into the bustle of Central Street, Ryuji pulls Akira into a tight hug. His head is pressed against Akira's shoulder, hidden from view. "Thanks for seeing me, man. We need to do it more often."

"I promise we'll hang out more. You're right, I need to get back into the swing of things. Maybe you, me, and Ann could hang out this week? Just us three, like the old days."

"Sounds great," comes the voice muffled into his shoulder. Ryuji pulls away quickly, head turned away, and before Akira can say anything else to him, he's off into the ebb and flow of the early evening crowd.

The shoulder of Akira's shirt is damp.

Akira enters the alley outside of Iwai's replica shop. Visiting Akechi is routine. They usually discuss the situation, their theories, any possible solutions to the predicament at hand. To his own shame, he's excited to see him, to update him on how Goro and his body are doing. Melancholy lingers within him, however, for how strongly he loves Akechi. For the new, tender love he feels for the current inhabitant of his body. Akira's so used to being torn in different directions that it hardly ever strikes him how stressful it is. Guilt hits him in pangs as he steps through the Velvet Room door.

The guilt, however, is quickly replaced with silent horror. Because the original Goro Akechi is not locked in his cell. He's not wearing prisoner's garb. He's not scowling at Akira.

Akira goes cold, because behind the bars is nothing. No one at all.

Lavenza looks sadly at him. "He's not here. He hasn't been since this morning."

The meta-nav pings in Akira's pocket. Shibuya looks normal, which baffles Akira at first, until he notices where the distortion, no, the Palace is located.

In Yongen-Jaya.

Around Leblanc.

Chapter Text

Akira alternates between panic and shock as he rushes home to Leblanc. On the way, he texts the group chat, as accurately as one can when running to and from train platforms.

Akira: GUYS
Akira: giro has a palaxr
Akira: leblknc nopw

Ryuji: what????

Makoto: If I'm reading this correctly, I think he's saying...
Makoto: Goro Akechi has a Palace?

Akira: YEDS
Akira: PALSXE
Akira: LEBLACC NOWE

Haru: everyone, get to leblanc as soon as possible!

Akira: THABK YOU

With that final rushed message, the train doors open. Ignoring social courtesy, in a panic about Goro, he rushes onto the platform, sprints up the stairs towards Yongen-Jaya. Once he's outside, he's out of breath, wheezing and panting. He only allows himself a few seconds to recover before running the rest of the way to Leblanc.

Akira bursts through the door, bending over and panting hard again. After a moment taken to catch his breath, he lifts his head. Sojiro and Goro stare at him, their conversation having been interrupted by Akira's intrusion. Before either of them can say anything, Akira raises his voice. "Sojiro. Can you please, um, leave us alone for a minute?" 

Sojiro stares at him, in confounded silence, until Akira makes the it's Phantom Thieves shit gesture they agreed upon. He nods and passes Akira in the doorway, mumbling, "I needed some cigarettes anyway. I'll be back later."

After he steps outside, Akira flips Leblanc's sign from OPEN to CLOSED. Goro clears his throat, drawing Akira's attention once more. "So, um... What is this all about, exactly?"

Akira sucks in a gulp of air. Unable to say anything at first, he pulls Goro into his arms. A hand falls into his hair, the other rests on his back. You're okay, he thinks desperately. Thank goodness. All he can manage to do is press his face into Goro's neck, eyes wet with tears. 

Goro takes a shuddering breath, then returns Akira's embrace. "You're scaring me. What's going on?"

"It's... A long story. I'll tell you when the others show up."

"The others?" Goro pulls back from the hug, enough to look down into Akira's face. "Do you mean... This has something to do with the Phantom Thieves?" His face pales a little bit. There's a faraway look in his eyes.

"Sort of," Akira mutters, stepping away fully as the bell above the door jingles. Ryuji is standing there in the doorway. "Ryuji. Glad you made it," he greets.

With a small smile, he nods. "Glad to be here."

Once everyone has arrived, they're offered fresh coffee by Akira. Yusuke and Haru take him up on the offer, the others abstaining. Goro is seated in a booth, surrounded by Akira's friends, some of which whose parents he... He feels ill again, tamps it down. Akira slides in beside him, pats him gently on the shoulder. Clearing his throat, Akira turns to look at everyone. "Thanks for coming."

A variety of responses come from them all, they who must be the Phantom Thieves. Nods. Understanding smiles. Well meaning confusion. Everyone steals glances at Goro himself, and knowing the truth of what he did makes the attention all the more suffocating. He feels trapped, up against the wall with nowhere to go.

Akira steeples his hands. "Okay, here's the situation. Let me fill you in on some context, as well as provide Goro with some information." He takes a deep breath, then begins. 

"As we all know, the Goro Akechi beside me is a Goro created from his memories before a certain point in time. But something I haven't mentioned yet is that his past consciousness was preserved in the Velvet Room, which is where I fuse my Personas. That in itself is kind of a long story, but it's where you all ended up before we fought the God of Control. Where we were when we were erased from the real world, which is probably also why he ended up there.

"Anyways, I had been meeting up with him every now and then on a regular basis to try and resolve the situation caused by Akechi erasing his own memories. He didn't realize he wouldn't be in control of his body, so he wants to return to it."

An icy sensation prickles in the back of Goro's neck. The voice, who had taken over his hand, tried to keep him from the truth... The other self, the previous him that wanted to forget... The horror of it all, those crimes committed, strikes him once more. He swallows bile.

"I went into the Velvet Room earlier, hoping to update him once again, maybe brainstorm new theories on how to help both him and this Goro out. But this time, he wasn't there. And the reason why is..."

Akira opens his phone, and taps on a red and black app icon. On the screen is a map of Yongen-Jaya, and within Leblanc is a white, flashing dot. 

"There's a Palace here. I don't think it's a coincidence that Akechi disappeared and a Palace came into being here, both on the same day." 

Goro pokes Akira's arm, a little aggressively. "What, exactly, is a Palace?"

Makoto raises her hand. "Okay, a Palace is a manifestation of how the Palace's ruler, the person in control, views wherever the Palace is located. Sometimes it's a castle, sometimes it's a bank..."

"Sometimes it's a tomb," continues Futaba, with a look of remorse. "It's not tied to whether a person is good or bad, it's based on how distorted their emotions have become. That's how we Phantom Thieves change people's hearts; We go into their Palaces, set 'em straight."

"I see," Goro says, stroking his own chin. "So, my previous self... His emotions have gotten so distorted that he's formed a Palace? And you have to go into it to change him?"

"Basically, yeah," Ryuji replies, nodding.

"It's a lot more complicated than that, but that's the short version." Akira nods as well, leaning back into the booth seat. "So. Do you all agree we should infiltrate his Palace?"

"I suppose if we don't, you'll just go on your own?" Yusuke ponders.

Akira huffs out an embarrassed laugh. "Well..."

Sumire narrows her eyes. "We can't let you go alone, Akira. If it's anything like Maruki's Palace–"

"Or perhaps even worse!–" Haru adds.

"It wouldn't be a good idea to send you in by yourself. Even with your ability to change Personas at will, and your strength... You would be easily outnumbered." Makoto looks at Akira sadly. "It's not a tactically sound decision."

"We're behind you all the way." Ann, standing beside Akira, pats the top of his head lightly.

"So, Joker. What's the plan?" Morgana, Akira's cat that can talk, why can he talk, is sitting on Leblanc's counter, cleaning his palms with his tongue. 

Akira smiles at them, looking so relieved. Why does it make Goro feel strange, to see Akira like this, so happy at the prospect of changing the heart of his past self? The past self he's been visiting, without telling Goro? "Sorry," Goro interjects, "but what do I have to do with this?"

"You're both parts of each other," Akira insists. "Plus, you have the power of Persona yourself." 

At this statement, Goro feels an alien fluttering in his ribcage, in front of his heart. He clutches his chest, distressed at this revelation. Akira wraps an arm around him, trying to soothe him, but all of the information shared with him is making his head pound.

Continuing on, Akira shares the plan. "You all can leave for today. I'm going to take Goro with me on errands, so I can prepare all we need to enter the Palace tomorrow after school. Meeting adjourned."

After everyone has left Leblanc, Akira pulls on his duffel. Morgana is tucked inside, head peeking out. He steps outside, offering Goro his hand. 

They stop by a clinic, with a woman who refers affectionately to Akira as her guinea pig and sells him homemade medicine. A replica weapons shop, run by an ex-yakuza, who relays how his son, Kaoru, is doing in school as he shows off extremely realistic looking model guns. Akira takes him to various convenience stores and fast food joints, gathering up a feast of greasy fries and snacks.

By the end of their errands, Goro is exhausted. The sun is beginning to set on Shibuya, the waning reddish light winking off of the sides of the tall buildings. Akira, arm in arm with him, has opened up his phone. Suddenly, his brow wrinkles. "That's weird."

"What is?" Goro leans closer, peering at the screen. 

"The Palace... It's not showing up at Leblanc anymore." Using two fingers, Akira zooms out. "Wait, what?" Alarm fills his voice as he finds the reading again, in a different spot entirely.

"Are we sure... Are we sure that the reading was for Leblanc?" Goro inquires, hesitant to voice his actual thoughts out loud.

Akira zooms in. The reading is registering in Shibuya, so he zooms in again, as far as possible. 

There are two markers on the screen. One is the location data of Akira's phone. The other reading, for the Palace, is right next to it, positioned where Goro is next to him.

Horror dawns on both of their faces. Morgana's fur stands on end. "This... This has never happened before!" Panic fills Akira's voice. He starts to tremble, fingers shaking as he calls the other Phantom Thieves. "Guys. Guys. It's not a place. It's a person. It's Goro."

Expressions of alarm come from the phone. Goro pulls him into a back alley, away from the throng of people. "Are you seriously about to blow your cover?" He hisses, bracing his hands on Akira's shoulders. "Use your brain, Akira!"

"Sorry, sorry." He blinks rapidly, gently shaking off Goro's hands. "The infiltration is still on for tomorrow. Just a bit more complicated. Talk soon." Akira hangs up without listening to anyone, slumping down against the wall behind him.

Goro slides into a sitting position beside him. They're over by the replica shop again, a side area off of the main street. He catches a glimpse of blue light, and suddenly, there is a strange door where there wasn't one before. A young girl appears beside it, holding a heavy book. "Tricksters, greetings."

Akira looks up at her, blinking in surprise. "Hello, Lavenza."

"Lavenza?" Goro asks, getting up and approaching the door. "What is all this?"

"My apologies," Lavenza says, curtsying. "I suppose we have not met yet. I am Lavenza, assistant to the master of the Velvet Room."

"The Velvet Room. What Akira was talking about earlier...?"

She nods primly, smiling in delight. "Yes. I believe a visit is in order. You both need to register and fuse, right? To prepare?"

Akira swallows thickly, getting up as well. "Yeah. That's probably a good idea." He steps through the threshold, disappearing into a blue void. Taking a deep breath to steady himself, Goro follows him in. 

He briefly feels the sensation of a free fall, anxiety surging through his blood, but then he is standing beside Akira (who is wearing something completely different, black jacket and red gloves and a white and black mask), in a prison cell with no door. Seated at a desk directly across from them is a short man. "I am Igor, master of the Velvet Room. Pleasure to make your acquaintance."

Goro, somewhat in shock, can only bow his head. Lavenza titters lightly and approaches them both, opening up her book. She pages through it, fingers skimming various entries. When she reaches a blank page, she stops. "Oh my. It seems your previous three entries cannot be accessed, as they are tied to a different trickster's sentence. I cannot summon them for you, as they are elsewhere."

"Oh," Goro mumbles. 

"Personas," Akira explains, "are tied to the sea of your soul. You're part of them, and they're part of you. So since you're a different person... I guess you have different Personas you can awaken to." He pauses. "Oh. Wait, since you're from before... You haven't awakened yet, have you?"

"What does that entail?"

"Well, my Persona... My first one, at least... Awoke when someone I cared about was in danger." Akira closes his eyes. Behind him, in the cramped cell, a form with wings and red eyes rises tall behind him. "Arsène. He's been with me all this time."

Goro gulps nervously, as the tall creature with a tophat chuckles darkly. "I am Arsène Lupin, thief extraordinaire." He bows, then fizzles into nothingness. "Nice to meet you in person, Aeon."

"He's... something."

"You get used to it." Akira goes through entries, pages and pages, buying new Personas and combining old ones. Goro sits awkwardly on the prison cot until it's time to leave. 

"I'm sure you'll awaken again, to a new power," Igor drawls, propping his head against his hand. "I sense a trickster's resolve in you, untapped potential. Now, go forth."

Akira takes Goro's hand once more, and pulls him out of the well of cognition. Leather becomes flesh again, warm and soft against his palm.

They're silent on the train ride home. Goro leans against Akira's shoulder, too tired to feel sick or guilty about it. His hand, with the feeling of blood under its nails, unable to be washed clean, is still clutched in Akira's like a lifeline. All of a sudden, it strikes him how much Akira has pretended tp be strong today. The bravado has crumbled, and now he looks weak and exhausted.

They get back to Leblanc, wash dishes, close up shop. In the night, Goro lets himself hold onto Akira. It's all he can do.

How much longer will I have this left? After this "Palace" is gone, will I still be around?

Goro Akechi sleeps restlessly.

Chapter Text

When the meeting finally arrives, the Phantom Thieves gather around in Akira's room.

"So... how exactly are we going to get inside Akechi's Palace? Does it matter where we do it?" Ryuji leaned into Goro's space, observing him closely. It made him feel uncomfortable, like a spectacle, a bird in a cage. The feeling was disconcertingly familiar, even if he had no memory of the television studios, with their painful lighting. The smiles of the hosts were the same, florescent, overly bright, artificially so. 

"Dunno." Futaba shrugs, kicking her feet back and forth behind her. She scrolls through a laptop, the screen reflected in her glasses' lenses. "I'm guessing we have to be close by to the location, like we usually do."

"Alright, then. Password time." Ann cracks her knuckles.

Goro furrows his brow. "Excuse me? Password?"

"We need a password to get into the Palace."

"From my understanding, it's what the Palace ruler perceives where the Palace is to be. My... Well. My former mentor, Madarame, he believed his home to be a museum... His views of the world were distorted. He would... take the art his pupils made and would pass them off as his own works, because of his greed." Yusuke looked pained to recall the memory.

"So, wait, Goro-kun here isn't the actual ruler of the Palace, right? That's Akechi." Makoto stroked her chin. "So it's what Akechi sees the Palace's location as..."

Various ideas are tossed around, but Goro immediately blurts out the first thing that comes to mind. "Prison."

Match found, chimes the Meta Nav. 

The lively brainstorming session dies mid-sentence. 

Akira frowns. "Prison?"

"Think about it like this; If you had to watch someone else pilot around your body, unable to do anything to change what they're doing, wouldn't you feel trapped?"

A strange buzz resonates in the room. Goro's temples pound. Akira taps his screen and the feeling stops. 

"Okay, here's the plan. I'll go in and scope things out. We don't know how things work in there yet. It's best for you all to save your energy for when you need to go in." Ryuji makes room for Akira to scoot into Goro's space. "Plus, I need you all to make sure nothing strange happens to Goro."

"Akira, that's dangerous. What if you get hurt and can't get out?" Makoto gnaws on her bottom lip, pensive.

"I'll come with. My inventory is full of key items, and I can help get Joker out of a tight spot." Futaba salutes cheerfully.

"Okay," she sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Just be careful. Try to avoid fighting as much as you can while scouting the Palace."

"Roger that, Queen." Akira pats her on top of the head, smiling. "You ready, Oracle?"

"Aye, aye, captain!"

"And you, Goro? You sure about this?"

Goro huffs. "The best course of action is you all doing whatever it is that you do. If you don't, won't... I don't know... Something bad happen?"

"Nothing like this has happened before. Usually we keep to a strict deadline, mainly because we have to. But now... I want us to settle this quickly. We don't know what'll happen to either of you if we don't steal Akechi's heart." Tenderly, Akira presses a kiss to Goro's forehead. Goro can sense every eye in the room on him without seeing it, and it makes him feel uneasy.

Morgana, cleaning behind his ears, lays on Akira's pillow. "How about we get Goro to lie down here? It makes it easier to watch him."

"Sounds like a plan." 

Goro nods in agreement, and lies on his back. The embrace of Akira's sheets is familiar, calming. The scent of his laundry detergent surrounds him.

The weight of two people sitting on the edge of the bed jostles him. "Goro Akechi, Goro Akechi's body, prison."

The robotic voice is drowned out by waves of drowsiness. Goro's eyes slip shut, and he is washed away by sleep.

When his eyes open again, he is no longer in Akira's room.

The hallway he stands in seems to stretch onwards infinitely. The end is so far that it's obscured by what seems to be mist. He's jolted out of his examination by the appearance of Akira and Futaba behind him. Akira is once again in that strange leather outfit, and Futaba is in a bodysuit, an imposing set of goggles perched upon her face.

"I don't think I'll ever get used to those strange things you wear."

Futaba laughed. "Buckle up, Goro-kun! Things only get weirder from here."

"I wasn't expecting you to be able to come in, actually. But it's good to know you can." Akira adjusted his gloves. He smiled warmly. "Stick close to us, but if a fight breaks out, keep away from the shadows. You can't defend yourself yet."

"Alright, I understand." As they started their trek down the hall, Goro looked down at himself. He breathed a sigh of relief when he saw he was wearing the same thing he had been in the real world, and not some odd costume.

For being a prison, the hallway was oddly unguarded. The cinderblock walls were lined with lights, but strangely, seemed to be lit by another source entirely. Ever so often, they would come upon doors on each side, but each time, they were locked.

"Are these... Palaces always this quiet?"

"No. They're not." Akira's posture looked tense.

"I've got a bad feeling about this, Joker. Stay on your guard." Futaba pulled up a screen out of thin air. She slid her finger down it. "I'm getting readings, but... I can't tell what or where they are."

A sense of unease settled upon Goro, weighing him down like an anchor. After what felt like years, but was more realistically 15 minutes, they finally came across a bend in the hallway. After turning into the new hallway, a large set of double doors awaited them. There were windows in them, but from their side, they were mirrored, unable to been seen through.

Futaba jiggled the knob. "Huh. Won't open."

Akira looked around. "Is there another way around these doors?" Goro swears he hears a soft aha! as Akira spots a vent. 

"You're fucking joking."

"I can assure you, Goro, I'm not."

"Yeah," Futaba adds, "we usually end up using a vent once per infiltration. Palace rulers don't want us getting deeper, right? They don't want us to steal their treasure – their heart – so they try to stop us any way we can."

Akira rips the vent cover off, dropping it to the side. He gets down on hands and knees and slinks into the vent. "Goro, come on, there's never any dust or anything."

Cursing this situation, Goro begins to crawl. He hears Futaba's prescence behind him, the sound of three people moving across a metal surface. It's so dark he can't see five feet ahead of him, but he keeps crawling onwards. Suddenly, he hears a bang and a noise of pain. "Akira, what happened?"

"Joker, are you okay?" Futaba's voice takes on a panicked pitch.

"Yeah, yeah. Shit. I just bumped into the wall. Maybe there's a turn..." There's the shuffling sound of leather against metal. "Well, fuck."

"Joker...?"

"It's a dead end. There's no exit."

"What do you mean, a dead end?"

"I mean, we're gonna have to backtrack. Crawl backwards to the opening, because there's not room to turn around here."

A familiar voice raises all of the hair on Goro's neck. "Oh, I don't think so." The vent creaks loudly, trembling under their weight. It collapses beneath them, sending them falling. A chorus of screams fills the air. 

Goro lands hard. The wind gets knocked out of him, so it takes a minute to recover. Akira and Futaba are already standing when he manages to sit up. A triangular object floats above them, spinning slowly in a circle.

"Hang on!" Futaba cries. "I'm trying to find an opening!"

It's only then Goro realizes they're surrounded. In a circle around them are what looks like four identical women. They lean onto rocks, and mermaid tails swish behind them. There is a yearning in their eyes, but at the same time, a great anger.

Something manifests behind Akira, a massive skull. A snake writhes within it, peeking out of an eye cavity. A red energy appears near each of them, but all but one dodges flawlessly. The only one hit disintegrates into sea foam, screaming in pain.

"Weak to curse! Remember that!" There's a frantic edge to Akira's voice.

"Got it!" The pyramid in the air blinks green once, then returns to its normal shade. 

Goro slowly gets onto his feet. As he does, though, one of them lashes out with an attack. Bright light hits Akira, knocking him off of his feet and onto the floor. The creature behind him dissipates.

"Joker," Futaba screams. "Get up! Please." But the mermaids don't care. The other two also hit him with the same attack. Goro's heart clenches in his chest at the sight of his severely injured boyfriend. He watches, in horror, as the three inch ever closer to him and Futaba.

"I can't- No! I can't do anything! I can't fight!" Futaba's head in in her hands. She's trembling, scared to death.

What will happen to us if we die in here? What'll happen to me? My body? I can't just let them get killed! But... that Lavenza! She said I didn't have any... whatever it is! Personas! What can I do?

Tears trickle down Goro's face. The three start to gather energy, as if to unleash a lethal attack...!

NOW, NOW. YOU CANNOT STAND IDLY BY, CAN YOU?

YOU HAVE ONCE FORGOTTEN, AND HAVE THUS FALLEN BACK INTO CAREFREE SLUMBER.

BUT YOU CANNOT BE CAREFREE ANY LONGER, IF YOU WANT THEM BOTH TO LIVE.

YOU REMEMBER, BUT YET YOU ARE A SEPARATE ENTITY...

ARE YOU READY TO ACCEPT MY KNOWLEDGE? THE CHANCE TO CHANGE YOUR FATE?

Goro nods resolutely, even through his panicked shaking. "Yes."

The voice chuckles. GOOD.

A MEMORY IS A POWERFUL THING.

ACCEPTING THE TRUTH IS EVEN STRONGER, NO MATTER HOW BITTER THE TASTE.

A wave of pain spikes through Goro's head. He clutches at it.

I AM THOU. THOU ART I.

CALL UPON ME, AND I SHALL LEND YOU MY AID.

Around him, he hears the confused murmurs of the creatures. Futaba gasps. Something forms on his face, a second skin. The pain of its presence needles at him. His fingers close around the edges, and he begins to yank. The pain is excruciating, and he screams through it, but eventually he manages to rip the mask off of his face. Blood spurts from the area around his eyes streaking down his cheeks.

Even so, he laughs hysterically.

"Come, let us impart the knowledge of their doom."

Akira's eyes slowly blink open. "Fu...taba...? Goro...?" He jumps up urgently, immediately worried about both of their safeties. The panic of seeing them bloody and unresponsive is quickly swept away.

A shockwave of air courses through the prison cafeteria they stand in. At the center of it is Goro, in a black suit and white over the knee boots. A sash of speckled white feathers rests upon his waist.

Akira's eyes are drawn to the Persona he summoned. A beautiful woman with long, brown hair towers over Goro. She wears a green chiton and sandals. Her expression is that of someone wizened, the fortitude of knowledge itself.

His eyes dart to Oracle, who stares in shock. Even their adversaries, what Oracle dubbed earlier as the Yearning Mers, cringe back in fear.

An owl mask appears on Goro's face. It complements his teasing smile. "Now, don't just stand there, Akira. I have no idea what I'm doing."

"Right," he responds, trying to embody the energy of a strong leader once more.

"What can he use, Futaba?"

She scrolls through her data pad. "Bless and curse skills! I think he has some healing as well!"

"Healing, you say?" Goro's first order of business is to heal Joker. From how quickly he feels better, it's a strong one. 

"Thank you!" He calls, and Goro nods.

With a vicious smile of bared teeth, Joker calls for Loa again. This time, the Mamudoon lands, wiping out all of the remaining enemies. 

All of Goro's energy immediately runs out. As he starts to fall to the floor, Akira slides over to him and catches him in his arms.

"I feel like shit," he coughs, eyes crinkling shut.

"That's normal when you awaken a Persona. Come on, let's find a way out of here. We'll come back with everyone tomorrow."

From their current location, Oracle is able to find an alternate exit. Interestingly, it doesn't loop back to where they came from, as if the original entry point isn't connected to anything at all.

"Akechi's clever," Oracle muses. "A fake entrance. He knew we'd go in the vent."

"So you're saying that it collapsed on purpose?" Goro inquires. He rests limply in Joker's arms, carried bridal-style.

"Akechi is the type to plan. I can believe it." Joker smooths a hand through Goro's hair as they step outside of the Palace and fade back into the real world.

Goro moves to get out of the bed, but he's trapped by the weight of two bodies laying on top of him.

"So, how did it go?" Sumire's voice inquires.

"Not as planned." Akira climbs up and off of Goro, dusting himself off.

Futaba laughs awkwardly. "Yeah. Akechi totally got a sneak attack that round. But! But, but, but! Goro-kun here awakened his Persona! Without him, we'd have definitely failed our death saving throws."

Haru claps her hands. "Oh, so Goro-kun will help us infiltrate the dungeon?"

"Well-" Akira starts, but Goro cuts him off.

"I'm coming. I need to resolve this. For me... and for your Akechi. That seems to be the only way forward."

"True." Ryuji clicks his tongue. "Plus, he could help out. There might be stuff he remembers from before that we don't know about."

"There's still a lot Goro doesn't remember, though. Right?" Akira looks towards him, nudging his arm with his elbow.

It occurs to him that, in all of the mess of the Palace appearing, he never had the chance to talk to Akira about his memories.

"Well... No. Recently I came across information that restored my memories."

Whatever Akira might have said dies in his throat. "...What?"

"I'm still a separate entity from the prior Goro Akechi, as you can see. But I know everything he has done. How he has harmed all of you, harmed many other people. At first, I didn't know what to do. But... his actions... they can't be erased with his memories. So I want to atone for them, even if I was not directly responsible for those crimes."

Akira wets his bottom lip, swallowing hard. "You remember him..."

"I remember a lot of things," he finishes. "Things I don't exactly want to discuss right now."

"Goro's right," Makoto responds. "I think we should get some rest before we infiltrate tomorrow."

"Yes, we should all eat well to prepare for tomorrow. Unrelated, if anyone would like to buy me dinner..."

"Inari, come on," Futaba grumbles. She doesn't actually appear that irritated, though. 

"Mind if I come with?" Ryuji pipes up. "I'll help pay."

"...That would be lovely, Ryuji. How about we get ramen, then?"

"Ramen sounds great! I'm staaaarving, man."

The Phantom Thieves leave the room and then Leblanc, if the jingle of the door is any indicator.

"So," Akira begins. "You remember being Black Mask."

"I remember killing you," he responds. "Note for future reference, maybe don't save incriminating letters. Aren't you a professional by this point?"

Akira stares at him, in shock. "You read the letter? You went through my things?"

"You weren't giving me answers!"

"Because I was worried about how it would affect your psyche!"

"I needed to know why everyone was looking at me like I was a plague. And- Well. You know what I know. What the previous inhabitant of this body did. It sickened me. That these hands were capable of that."

"It wasn't his fault completely."

"He had a choice. His circumstances were bad, yes, but he had a choice. And that choice hurt Futaba and Haru, and every other person who loved the people he induced shutdowns in. And he – and I – are going to have to live with the consequences of that."

Akira takes a shuddering breath, averting his eyes. "I wish you didn't have to know."

"I don't regret it. Do I feel guilty? Of course. But I don't regret learning about it. I reached out to the truth, and it reached back. It's the only reason you and Futaba made it out alive."

"What is your Persona?" Akira reaches out to cradle his face in his hands. 

"Mnemosyne, the Greek goddess of memory."

Goro isn't as distant as before. He wraps his arms around Akira, holding him tightly. Whether from Mnemosyne's awakening or the conversation they had, he feels... freer. The guilt is still inescapable, but much more manageable.

He sleeps peacefully by Akira's side, partners in all things.

"We're a team," Akira says into his hair. "You, me, and the Thieves. We'll get through this together. I swear."

Chapter Text

Faintly, somewhere, there is carnival music. You open your eyes, as if waking from a long slumber, and look down at your wrists. Your hands are sealed within white piano gloves, but you feel as if they are not your own.

But who are you, exactly?

Oh, silly! How could you forget. You're GORO AKECHI, warden of this institution. You run this prison with an iron fist. All of the wretches who have wronged you are finally behind bars, and the reward for their depravity is eternal damnation.

Judge, jury, and executioner. Though you do dabble in torture as well.

You feel a tugging on your wrist. You let it be moved, and don't inspect it too closely. Your body is like that nowadays. It will move of its own accord, without your input. Traitorous.

Honestly? That carnival music is quite annoying.

You finally notice the presence of two figures within the room with you, though some part of you knew they were there all along.

The first is a gallant knight, the courteous hero you dreamed of being as a child. Reruns of Featherman and fairytales of chivalry inspired his creation. It's too bad no one in that chivalrous in the real world, though. 

The second is a horned creature, a court jester. He jingles about, full of energy. Perhaps he is scheming again. He was produced from the rot of this world, the spoiled egg beneath the Earth's flimsy shell. 

He takes joy from unhappiness, and thus increases the volume of the music he emits to annoy you.

Would you cut that out? I'm trying to strategize.

Your hand, once again, moves by itself to reach for a quill and some paper.

You don't dare look at the guiding force behind your actions. The inciting incident that lit the powder keg of a cruel, unjust life and set you on the path of bloodshed.

If you let yourself be honest for a bit, even in this awful dream, it's because you're afraid to meet his eyes.

He cannot control you any longer. He's been unmasked. His empire has been toppled, and all his cronies shall remain here to rot.

But perhaps that's what he wants you to think.

Politicians have their networks, and Shido's was vast. Who's to say there aren't still worms wriggling on his fish hooks? Obvious bait, set up to take his destined fall?

....He sensed you thinking about him.

Eyes bore into you, bear down on you until you are crushed under their weight. You pull your cap down over your eyes, a scared child covering yourself with a blanket.

You even feel the knight and the jester become uneasy.

When the damnable silence stretches to suffocating lengths, you have finally had enough. You throw off your cap in a fit of rage and whirl around to face whatever is holding you hostage, preventing your freedom of movement.

The face you were so nervous to look into is none other than your own.

The anxiety diminishes, if only minutely. It is not you, but a strange reflection. A you that is not held back by your sins, but one that strives to move forward and improve despite them. 

That stupid, innocent look on his face irritates you to no end. 

It sickens me. You sicken me. How dare you trap me here! Within my own body, my own mind! How dare you wrest control from me? And for what?

You laugh. You laugh you laugh you laugh you laugh you can't stop laughing...

To pretend you're better than me? Newsflash, you ARE me. You can't escape me. So, you will not escape this prison, either. Do you think I will sit idly by and protect my treasure? That's funny.

There is no treasure here.

Since there is nothing preventing me from doing so, I will hunt you to the last. I will use everything in my arsenal to remain the warden of this place. If you attempt to displace me from my body, well...

Let me see you try it. I have a few tricks up my sleeve, "Goro".

Goro wakes up in a cold sweat. Frantically, he looks around. It's still dark outside. The waning moon hangs in a starless sky. The alarm to wake up has yet to go off.

He cannot manage to retrieve the dream that is quickly fading from his memory, but he knows how it made him feel.

Cold, so cold. His lungs contract and his heart struggles to keep time. He lies awake for what feels like hours, stiff as a statue, before finally relenting to get rest.

After all, I need to be rested for the infiltration tomorrow...

Chapter Text

When they reenter the Palace, Akira feels unsteady, uneasy. The air feels stale. The Phantom Thieves stay back, towards the entrance, clearly unsure of what to do.

"I've never felt a Palace like this," Morgana muses. "It's... hard to describe."

Shivers spread through the group.

"It's freezing." Ryuji's teeth are chattering. Haru wraps her arms around herself.

Cold. Desolate. Lonely.

Goro strides forward, joining up with Akira. "Chin up, now. It'll only get colder the further we go, right?"

I'm Joker. Joker. I have to be Joker right now. So, who...

Mentally, he looks through his reserves. He made sure to get a good spread of different Personas to cover any problems that might arise. It's not about covering weaknesses this time. It's more about who can take hits, who's fast on their feet.

"Ryuji. Ann."

Even though they're both clearly hesitant, they stride up to him. 

"Right," she says, offering a wobbly smile. "I've gotcha, Joker."

"Same here, man. Lead the way." As always, Ryuji exudes carefree confidence.

They're putting on an act, same as him, but he can't help but love them for it. Their determination, even in the face of insurmountable odds. They've been with him through everything, them and Morgana. 

Hopefully this is the last time. Hopefully they'll finally know peace.

Akira's - no, Joker's - posture sags the smallest increment. "Let's go. Be on guard, everyone. Especially you guys bringing up the rear. You might need to switch in at a moment's notice."

Makoto nods. "Mm!" responds Haru, with more cheer than anyone could feel in this dank passageway. Yusuke has a comforting arm around Futaba, and she pulls him into a tight hug before bounding on ahead, surveying the path forward.

Morgana gives Akira a worried look, so serious that he feels his ribs ache beneath the press of his vest.

Be Joker.

I'll be fine, he mouths. 

After all, his arsenal is strong. Alice could definitely clear out those Mers they struggled with the previous day. Izanagi-no-Okami might be overkill, but he's a kindred spirit, and damn is he powerful. Ryuji is always a powerhouse, and Ann and Goro can both cast and heal. Their stockpile of items is mighty. Futaba has their backs.

We've got this. What could go wrong?

Maybe he shouldn't have thought, what could go wrong? Everytime those words come to mind, some unexpected calamity arises. So, needless to say...

"Agh, we're going in circles!" Goro growls. He looks inches away from tearing his hair out.

Ryuji, similarly, is pacing. 

"Guys, c'mon," Ann pleads, her fingers threaded together nervously. "I'm sure if we take a moment to think about it, we'll figure it out..."

Futaba flips through data screens frantically, pausing only to place headphones over her ears. Her eyes are flicking so quickly that Akira can hardly follow them. "Gotta find it, gotta find it... gotta find it..."

"Um. Could it be the gigantic red button that's right there?" Haru pipes up.

"Psh. Don't be silly. That's only what Akechi would want us to think. Ryuji crosses his arms.

"Oh, he's absolutely right. I set up that button to fuck with your preciously stupid little minds."

"Why do I feel like he's trying to reverse psychology us...?" Ann, rolling her eyes, walks up to the pedestal the button is on.

Makoto's eyes nearly pop out of her skull. "Wait, no-!" 

"We shouldn't just press random buttons!" Morgana agrees.

"Perhaps this is unwise, Ann..."

She purses her lips, then presses the button firmly. It clicks.

Silence.

Nothing happens.

"Well, that didn't do anything." Goro takes a deep breath, pushing his mask up and off of his face. It puffs out, visible in the cold air.

"Ah, well." Akira shurgs. "Better that it does nothing instead of something."

From behind, he hears the dreadful creak of metal. In horror, he turns and watches as the way they came from is sealed by a shutter.

"Oh, fuck."

Malicious laughter fills the enclosed space. "Ha, you really fell for it, unbelievable... Have fun getting out. It's sure to be a tight squeeze."

"Wh- What does he mean, tight squeeze?" Sumire squeaks.

Another metal sound, from above this time. It's grinding, grating to the ears and mind.

The ceiling begins to descend, and the comfort of being Joker absconds. 

Everyone descends into a panic, except Futaba, who is still wildly looking through any and all Palace data.

Akira's heart pounds in his chest. Backing away, he slides down the shutter, sweating palms gripping the tails of his coat for purchase on something, anything.

He cannot say, this isn't real, because it is.

He could die here, crushed into paste with all of his dearest friends.

He could die the way Akechi had, once, behind a metal shutter with no method of escape. How, in that moment, could he face certain death head on?

...Wait.

Akira, feeling a burst of energy, rises to his feet once more. He places his hand against the ceiling, inches above his head.

It phases through harmlessly. The surface turns translucent, then completely vanishes, revealing a vertical passageway with a retractable ladder.

Ryuji's jaw drops. "Are you for real?"

The party visibly relaxes, their breath slowly evening out.

"Hey!" barks Goro. "That was a dick move."

Akira, gloved hand stroking his chin in thought, shakes his head. "No... I think there was a reason for that."

Over the loudspeakers, tinny, comes Akechi's voice. "Yes, there was. To fuck with you, of course..."

"Let's move on. The further we get, the closer we get to Akechi."

"Oh, I'm well aware of that."

Akira hops up and pulls the rest of the ladder down. He begins the climb, and it's not long before he reaches the top. Palm feeling around on the surface above, he finds the edge of something and pries it open.

Slowly, he rises from the hole, reaching down to help each individual member out. Finally, once everyone's on the new floor, he puts the cover back in its rightful place. PROPERTY OF GORO AKECHI DO NOT MOVE is emblazoned on the surface.

A click of a rifle, then another, three, seven, ten, fifteen clicks.

Akira's hands are up before he's even fully processed what is going on.

Guard shadows surround them in a circle. 

Goro hangs his head. "Oh, you're fucking shitting me."

"We have you surrounded," comes an authoritative voice. "Cooperate to ensure your safety."

" 'nd if we don't?" Ryuji's hands are behind his head, teeth bared. 

"Simple. We open fire."

"You wouldn't want to deal with... oh, say... fifteen berserk shadows at once, would you? That would be a terrible fate..." Akechi clicks his tongue. "You honestly think I'll let you move as you please throughout my Palace? Hah."

Akira swallows hard. "Futaba?"

She blinks at him, barely hiding her trembling. Even with how scared she is, she nods.

Faster than the guards can, he raises his pistol and fires cleanly through their shadowy form. The others dissolve, and three shadows appear in their place. Their forms flicker, humanoid, animalistic, bipedal, quadripedal, anything in between.

"Don't trust your eyes!" He orders. "Ann, Goro, Ryuji - stick with me. Everyone else, fall back!"

"Izanagi-no-Okami!" And Izanagi comes to his aid, in his blazing glory. "Behold, the Myriad Truths!" 

Two of the shadows take the damage and dissipate, but one shakes it off. Its head splits open with an audible crack, and arising from within the feeble shell is a tall figure. Their wings spread out, and their face creaks into a grin not unlike a jack-o-lantern's. It's jagged. Haughty.

Such a familiar face... A face he has not ever been afraid of, until now.

Looking back at him is Arsène, some twisted version of him.

Then, that piped in chuckling, that audible smirk. "I know all about you. You especially, Joker... I remember the way Arsène knocked me onto the shitty Mementos ground. My mouth was bleeding, and I could taste it, coppery and sweet... I wonder what the blood in your mouth will taste like when he does the same to you."

Before Akira can say anything, do anything, act, a brutal blow hits the top of his head.

Chapter Text

It had all happened so fast. With the temporary loss of their leader, all order within the Phantom Thieves crumbled. Before Goro knew it, the Shadows had brought everyone to their knees. Second by second, horror grew within him. He anxiously awaited the final blow, but none came.

The Phantom Thieves, barely clinging to consciousness, were put in irons. Goro couldn’t find a way out; There were too many guards for every member of the team to escape. And even if they all could, the restraints would slow them down significantly.

The Shadow that was Arsène reverted into its original form. Though it had no eyes, the smile on its face was surely a haughty smirk. “You are to be taken to solitary confinement. The Warden has already decided your fate.”

Though it seemed like overkill to Goro, everyone was blindfolded. They were led in many different directions, some seeming paradoxical, until they were separated and placed into individual cells. Before Goro’s guard left, it removed his blindfold. “Warden’s orders. He wants to see if you have what it takes to escape.” The guard laughed, then locked him in.

Strangely, for being solitary confinement, the room had bars just like standard prison cells. He could see Sumire-chan and Futaba-chan from where he was positioned. They were also sans blindfold. “I suppose he’s making fun of us.”

“Duh!” Despite their circumstances, Futaba grinned. “He’s studied up on us. We’ve even infiltrated Palaces with him twice.”

Sumire cleared her throat. “If it had been a fair fight, we probably would have won.”

“Akechi doesn’t fight fair, though.” Another voice, from down the corridor. It sounded like Ryuji’s.

“There has to be a way out,” Akira insisted. Goro would know that voice anywhere. “Does anyone see cracks in the walls or ceiling? Vents? Trapdoors?”

Goro heard everyone shuffling around, poring over the surfaces of their cells. He got an idea, a stupid idea, but figured it was worth a try, anyway. He tried opening the door.

Lo and behold, it swung open with a metallic creak. All the Phantom Thieves he could see stared at him in shock.

“How did you know that would work…?” Makoto asked.

“Well, it was the first thing I thought of.”

Everyone else gradually came out of their cells. None of them had been locked. They had only been shut.

“You know.” Yusuke adjusted his gloves. “I do get the feeling that Akechi is fucking with us.”

“No shit,” Ryuji huffs.

“No, Skull is right.” Haru taps her chin. “Haven’t the solutions to these puzzles been very simple?”

“Ah, so you’re saying–!” Sumire put a hand over her mouth. “We would overlook the answers because we’re used to more complex ones.”

“Genius. How did I not think of that?” Futaba almost sounded sad.

Akira sidled up to Goro and patted him on the back. “I think you’re the key to this.”

“Oh, really, you’re just gathering that now?"

“Goro, Goro, you wound me. I mean, you’ve never infiltrated a Palace before this. Lead us with your common sense.”

These people, Goro thought, not unkindly. They wear me out.

Goro led them through Akechi’s puzzles with ease. It was as simple as walking through his own home, and in a way, it was his home. This Palace was his body, after all. Where he had been living for as long as he existed. As they avoided spike traps (by walking around them) and electric fences (that were only projections), the Phantom Thieves started to act like themselves again.

“What should Goro-kun’s codename be?” Sumire asked.

“Hmmmm.” Futaba stroked her chin, then lit up. “Aha! Fowl.”

“Please no.”

“Hmmm. Perhaps we should title you, “The Regalest of Birds, the Hawk”?”

“That’s kind of long…” Haru laughed.

“Dove.”

“No.”

“Raven.”

“No.”

“Chicken.”

“You’re not even trying,” Goro insisted. He bit back a smile. “If you’re going to call me a bird, call me an owl. Since that’s what this getup resembles.”

“Owl it is, then.” Akira grinned at him.

The mood was no longer dreary. It was the lightest it had been since Akira had discovered the Palace.

Soon enough, they had covered a lot of ground. It had been a breeze; They had defeated the few roaming Shadows with a little coordination.

Eventually Futaba came to a sudden stop. They were at the end of a long hallway. “Hey, guys?” She looked around, frowning. “I think we’re coming up on the Warden’s office. I still can’t get a read on where the treasure is.”

“Huh? What’cha mean?” Ryuji tilted his head. 

“I’ll get readings of it here and there, but it keeps moving around. North, east, south, west. It’s not in any one place! It’s like it’s randomized.”

“Is there anywhere else we can check?”

She shook her head. “This is the last place we haven’t looked. Everywhere else has been explored.”

“Looks like we need to go in.”

One of the walls glittered strangely in the light: a safe room. They went inside and prepared for a fight. Akira diligently healed the team up with items, and they discussed possible strategies to use. Once everyone was ready, Akira nodded his assent, and everyone was faced with the Warden’s door.

Goro went up to it. It was tall and imposing, made of deep mahogany wood and gold furnishings. It looked very expensive. He turned the handle, and it slowly drifted open.

Seated at a stately oak desk was the original Goro Akechi, the Goro Akechi he had unwittingly replaced. He wore a pristine uniform, and no hair on his head was out of place. The smile on his face, however, was ice cold. Goro faltered a second before forging on towards him. He couldn’t hesitate now, not when they were this close.

“Why, hello, Phantom Thieves.” He clasped his hands together. “To think you made it this far. I’m pleasantly surprised you were able to figure out the twist of this Palace, though of course it took you a while to deduce.” He clicked his tongue. “It’s a shame, though. You cannot destroy this Palace. There’s no treasure for you to steal. I have nothing left to lose.”

“That’s not true. There has to be something that represents the distortion of your heart. Otherwise, this Palace wouldn’t exist.” Morgana was at Goro’s side now.

“There is nothing,” he insisted. “Why are you so surprised? I’ve lost everything I was connected to.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Goro noticed a flash of light. It was faint, but there. “Are you sure about that?”

“You’re the one asking me?” Akechi laughed darkly. “I have no possessions. No body. Nothing.” 

But yet, that thing glinted again. Before Akechi could stop him, Goro’s arm shot out and stole it off of Akechi’s desk. In mere moments, it solidified into something wooden and textured. 

It was a chess set.

“Fine, you caught me.” Akechi made a tch sound, rolling his eyes. “There is something left. One measly, pathetic thing I cling to…”

He stepped out from behind the desk, arms crossed behind his back. “But do you honestly think I will let you have it? You’re so close to possessing it already. Akechi closed his eyes, shaking his head. Once they opened, his pupils were a peculiar gold hue.

“I won’t let you take it from me.”

He writhed. His body, once made of flesh and bone, transformed into mottled wood. He wore a tattered black costume, adorned with a cape full of holes and a broken helmet. A toy sword was in his hand. Strings sprouted from his wrists like vines and rose towards the ceiling. Their ends spawned two wooden, X-shaped handles. One was maneuvered by a knight adorned in red and gold. The other was controlled by a court jester covered in stripes.

Akechi fell limp under their ministrations, his eyes wide and dead. He was no longer a person. He was merely a puppet under someone else’s control.

“Everyone, get ready!”

Akechi came in swinging. He attacked Ryuji first. The blow was deceptively strong; It was almost enough to stun him. Before they could act, he lunged for Sumire as well.

When they finally got breathing room, Morgana spoke up. “He won’t listen to reason! Maybe we can end this if we cut his strings?”

“Good idea!” Futaba called. “Maybe that’ll stop his attacks!”

“Okay.” Akira nodded firmly. “Which of us will he notice the least?”

“I volunteer,” Yusuke said, raising his hand. “I don’t think he has any particular squabble with me.”

“Alright. Everyone else, attack and defend.”

After blows had been traded from both sides, Yusuke saw an opportunity. So quickly that Goro’s eyes could not follow, his sword cut through one of the marionette strings. Akechi toppled to one side, shrieking in alarm.

“You would take this from me, too?! This is all I am! What am I without it?” His attacks grew more vicious. 

Once again, when Akechi was absorbed fully in attacking, Yusuke cut its twin. Akechi fell to the ground. His body collapsed with a weak, wooden thunk and the two figures moving him dissipated in a waft of smoke. He trembled on the ground, but slowly, using the desk for support, he climbed to his feet. His eyes were full of fury, and his grin was vicious. “I won’t stand down. I can’t stand down! Giving up would mean giving up everything! Giving up myself!” Red energy crackled around him, and he screamed in agony.

“He’s going berserk!” Futaba screamed. “Be careful, guys!”

Everyone put their guard up. Akechi made a move to attack Goro, but Akira stepped in front of him to take the blow instead. However, no blow came. Akechi stood before Akira, seething, and even through the haze of whatever the hell he had done, Goro saw tears forming in his eyes.

“What…?”

“He’s not attacking Joker…”

“Everyone, retreat,” Makoto ordered.

“What? But–” Ryuji stammered. 

“Do it!”

Only Akira and Akechi remained on the battlefield, everyone else out of range. Akira cast Rakukaja on himself, anticipating an attack. But none came. Akechi didn’t move. He just trembled. “You idiot. How dare you…?”

Akira said nothing, his hands clenched into fists at his sides.

“How could you do this to me? How could you pick him over me?”

“I’m not picking anyone.” His voice softened. He took Akechi’s hand into his own. “I’m trying to fix this. We can’t figure out how to do that if you’re here. If this Palace is here. Nothing will resolve.”

Akechi, slowly, slumped in defeat. The dam broke; He openly wept. He could no longer hide his vulnerabilities, his weakness in the face of kindness. “Take… Take the chess set, then. I’ll go. We’ll resolve it, as you say.”

With the battle over and the chess set in their possession, the ground began to rumble. Everyone hurried to escape the Palace, including each Goro Akechi. They made it to the exit, and stepped into the real world—

The Phantom Thieves breathed a sigh of relief. The Palace had come crumbling down. Maybe now, Akira thought, I can figure out what to do with those two.

Goro’s body did not wake. He breathed. His heart beat in his chest. He was almost entirely the same, save for one thing. A blue butterfly sat upon his head, flapping its wings. It flew out the window, and Akira knew where it must be going.

Goro’s body was here. But it had no consciousness. Neither Goro occupied it.

Chapter Text

Akira almost didn’t brief the Thieves on what had happened, but it was Ryuji who grabbed him by the sleeve. “Dude, come on. You have to talk to us.”

“Ryuji’s right,” Sumire insisted. “Keep us in the loop.”

Despite his stomach ache and the pangs in his head, he did the right thing. “I have to go where Goro and Akechi are. You all have been there before, but I don’t know if you remember it at all. Do you remember that place we went when we disappeared on Christmas…?”

“Oh, that super weird place.” Futaba nodded, shoving her glasses higher on her nose.

“I remember it, but as if it were a dream.” Yusuke looked off in the distance, almost fondly. “If only I could remember it better. The painting it would make…”

“So, I’m going. I don’t know what’ll happen or who I’ll come back with. Hang tight, I’ll keep you updated.”

“Roger that.” Ann patted him on the back. Akira pulled her into a hug, and she returned it happily.

“It’s dangerous to go alone,” Futaba said. “Take this.” She handed Akira a small Featherman figure.

“What’s this?”

“...Something I picked up secondhand in Akihabara. Goro… Akechi? He liked Featherman, right? Maybe it’ll help. Or comfort you. Or something.” 

“...Thank you.”

Muscle memory led him to the Velvet Room. Otherwise, he wasn’t sure whether he could stay standing. Lavenza waited silently outside the azure door. When he approached, she said nothing, and simply let him inside.

There was an alarm blaring. Red lights flashed, making his headache more noticeable. Beneath the shrill noise, there were voices.

Two voices.

“What do you think will happen?” The first belonged to Goro Akechi.

“Hell if I know.” The second, hiding a tremble, was also Goro Akechi’s.

In two separate cells were two Goro Akechis. They took notice of him, both turning to stare at him. One had a look of shock and desperation. The other was tired, but clearly upset.

Lavenza stood beside Igor. “Ah, Trickster,” he greeted. “A pleasure to see you in the Velvet Room once more. As I’ve been away for some time, Lavenza has briefed me.”

She curtsied, nodding slightly. “I am pleased to say that both of your sentences are nearing completion! You are so close to freedom.”

“So close…?” Akira frowns. “What’s left?”

“Some self-reflection. Now, inmates, if you could please explain what you have learned from this situation? In 500 words or less?”

“...An essay portion.” Akechi (it had to be Akechi) covered his face with his hands. “Delightful. I may as well go first.

Akechi cleared his throat. “This experience has taught me a great many things. I… I can’t keep running away from my past. I must accept that I cannot change what has already happened, but I can try and make up for them with words and actions. Although I may apologize, others do not owe it to me to accept any apologies I give them, and I should not hold grudges if I don’t. Because, after all… I hold grudges against myself as well.” Even from a few yards away, Akira could see his tears. “Most of all, I want to change. I want to be better, in order to lead a life I’m proud of. Even if it takes the rest of my life, I want to try.”

“Good.” Lavenza clapped her hands, smiling brilliantly. “Your resolve has moved me.” Expectantly, she turned to Goro with the same smile.

Goro took a deep breath, clenching his fists several times. “Sorry if I… if I mess up, I’m not the best at public speaking…”

Wringing his hands, he began. “I was really… Well, freaked out when I found out what I had done. Not because it wasn’t me who had done it, since it was another me, but… Because I had no idea what had happened to get me to that point. And the me I was before knowing that? I don’t know how I could have become someone capable of doing that… But after everything that’s happened… The Palace, learning about my previous self… I understand. I hate that I do. But I understand.

“I want to learn how to accept that. I want to help those he’s… I’ve harmed. In any way I can, if they’re okay with that.”

Lavenza once again clapped. “Goro, do not undersell yourself. That was a very concise speech, and most importantly, one that came from your heart. Now, then, your sentences have finally been served. Trickster, I need you for this part.”

Akira awkwardly stepped forward. The looks of dread on both of their faces sent pangs through his heart. What was going to happen to them?

Igor steepled his hands. “The two of you have spent time as separate entities. However, you cannot leave this place as such.”

There was the familiar sound of Lavenza wheeling the fusion equipment into the room. Each Goro’s face fell.

“Do not worry,” Igor assured. “This is not for execution. It will put you back together. Once you are combined, you can leave the Velvet Room. Once you do, your body will be yours once more. You can return to your life. The two of you will live as one, gaining the strength to continue forward in life.”

“You can come out now.” Lavenza opened their cells, leading them to the guillotines. “I know it looks frightening. I was scared to do it as well, once. But I’m here, and I’ll be here watching over you.”

They were placed under the glinting blades. Akira said the command.

As the blades fell, the two Akechis held hands.

Akira brought Goro Akechi back to Leblanc. “How do you feel?” He asked on the walk there. With Goro’s hand in his, he swung their arms.

“My head hurts. You would be surprised how dizzying it feels to have two memories of everything over a span of time.”

“Yeah, no, that tracks.”

“It’ll take some getting used to. But,” he shrugged. “That’s life, I suppose.”

Akira got out his phone, sending a quick text the Thieves’ way. A few minutes later, they were on Leblanc’s doorstep. Goro stood outside the door, unable to enter.

“Are you nervous…?”

“I’m not sure what they’ll think of all this.” Goro edged away from the door, letting go of Akira’s hand.

That was when Akira remembered. From his bag, he took out the Featherman action figure. “How about a good luck charm? If you’re embarrassed about holding it, you could slip it in your pocket.”

Goro’s eyes scanned over the toy. Gradually, they filled, and soon he was bawling. Akira jumped in surprise, moving to put it away. Even through his tears, he saw, and he placed a hand on Akira’s hand, shaking his head.

Gradually, the tears stopped flowing. He sniffled, wiping his cheeks with his coat sleeves. Goro took it from him, slipping it into the pocket of his coat. He placed his hand over it from the outside, closing his eyes. “...Where did you get this? It looks just like my old one.”

The door swung open, and Futaba’s head peered out. “There you are!”

“Speak of the devil,” Akira mumbled. He accepted Futaba’s playful punch with as much grace as he could muster. “Futaba here found it.”

“...Th-Thank you, Sakura-san.”

“Oh, he’s back to being formal…” She cringed into herself.

Goro gave her a dry look. It was so familiar that Akira couldn’t help but smile. However, it cracked, and Goro fell into heaving, wet laughter. This seemed to alarm Futaba more.

“We’ll explain later. We should get inside now. No time like the present to celebrate our successful infiltration. And… you, too.” Akira turned to Goro, gently nudging him. “Do you need a minute?”

“No,” he replied. There was a look on his face Akira had never seen before. A brilliant smile, hiding no bitterness. He seemed… genuinely happy. “I’m ready.”

Goro Akechi stepped over the threshold. Leblanc’s bell rang merrily, and the sound of happy chatter filled the cozy café.