Chapter Text
Akira is so fucked.
He accepted the part-time job at Untouchable because he wanted to save up money for the upcoming summer vacation — not because he wanted to end up wedged between two shelves in a warehouse, having overheard a compromising conversation between two Yakuza, who are now about to search the warehouse for the snooping part-timer who couldn’t stifle a sneeze in time.
He glances at the phone in his right hand.
I’ll be there in ten minutes, the message on his display reads, and Akira has to do his utmost not to let out a sigh to accompany his sneeze from moments ago.
If he hasn’t been shot, put in a trash bag and thrown into a river in ten minutes, that would be nothing short of a miracle.
[Six hours earlier]
Small raindrops are splashing against the windows of Leblanc.
One, then another one, a third one, and before long they are building a steady rhythm. Akira sighs; he’ll have to bring an umbrella. It’s April, and the weather forecasts are less than unpredictable at the moment. At least he wouldn’t be surprised by a sudden downpour later when he’s already outside.
Five years have passed since the fall of Maruki’s reality and the disappearance of the Metaverse; it has taken Akira some time to adjust to a normal life, the last year of high school that he spent in his hometown — boring, monotone, with nothing to distract him from the thoughts about a boy he couldn’t save in February gnawing at him — making his stomach churn a little whenever it crosses his mind. But now he is back in Tokyo, back in Leblanc, back with the people he considers his true family.
Akira descends the stairs from his room — now renovated into an actually usable living space with insulation and a real bed instead of a mattress on milk crates — to the café underneath, waving at Sojiro who’s carefully wiping the counter.
“Off to another odd job? You should help out an old man a little more,” he grunts, but there’s no bite to his voice.
Akira laughs, “There are other old men in need today, sorry.” When Sojiro raises an eyebrow at him, he continues, “Iwai… uh, the owner of Untouchable, remember? He’s short-staffed and asked me to help him out again. I wanna save up a bit anyway, so I accepted. Don’t worry, I’ll help you here later today.”
He checks the contents of his bag to make sure he’s got all he needs for the afternoon. Phone, wallet, keys, train ticket, a thermos can with coffee…
“Don’t worry about it, I’m just joking,” Sojiro says, smiling ever-so-slightly. “You do more than enough. Make sure to catch a break, kid.”
It’s true, Akira is currently juggling a whole bunch of jobs. Most days he helps out Sojiro at Leblanc, and in addition to his new part-time job at Untouchable he's also part-timing at the Crossroads bar and the Rafflesia flower shop.
It’s okay, though; he likes to keep his hands busy.
While most of his friends went to university, he couldn’t really decide on what to do with his life long-term — nothing excites him quite as much as the life he used to live as the leader of the Phantom Thieves — so he decided to keep alternating between odd jobs while he figures out what he wants to do. The long working hours on some days don’t bother him.
He doesn’t like to be alone with his thoughts for too long, anyway.
Akira frowns.
“What is it?” Sojiro asks, watching the young man frantically search his pockets, then his bag, then his pockets again.
“Have you seen my…?” Akira begins, but he doesn’t have to finish his sentence, realization already dawning on Sojiro’s face.
“Oh. Yeah, you dropped it behind the counter yesterday. Here you go.” He tosses Akira a black, worn-out leather glove that he thankfully catches and immediately stuffs into the pocket of his jacket.
“You’re still carrying that around, huh?” a small voice chimes up, and suddenly Morgana is on the counter, eyeing Akira intensely as his tail flicks back and forth.
Akira awkwardly shifts from one foot to the other under his cat’s scrutinizing stare.
“I know you had a special bond with him, but… maybe it’s time to… you know.”
Akira knows what Morgana is implying; they've had this conversation many times before, after all.
Akechi Goro is dead. There is no way around it.
After the fall of Maruki’s reality, Akira’s rival disappeared into thin air. Akira wanted to keep hoping, keep waiting, even asked Futaba at one point to search for traces of the former detective — but they came up with nothing.
Akira refuses to dwell on it. Frankly, he doesn’t think he could handle it — the months he spent in his hometown without distraction from the fact were almost unbearable. But carrying the glove with him wherever he goes soothes him. It’s a comfortable weight in his pocket that reminds him of a rivalry, a promise, a man who saw through him like no other.
He will carry a part of Akechi Goro with him, and he will never, ever, forget about him, even if he never returns.
“It’s okay,” he reassures his feline friend. Then adds for good measure, “I’ll bring home sushi after work.”
The distraction works, the cat cheerfully exclaiming “Fatty tuna!” and letting Akira scratch his ears.
“I can’t accompany you to work today, by the way,” he says between purrs. “Futaba is having a video chat with Lady Ann later, and I can’t miss that.”
“Naturally,” Akira laughs. “Have fun with Futaba and Ann.”
He shoulders his bag, gives Morgana a final pat on the head, and waves Sojiro goodbye. “See you in the evening.”
“Don’t forget about my fatty tuna!” Morgana calls after him, and Akira chuckles.
“I wouldn’t dare.”
Only half an hour later, Akira is standing in front of Untouchable.
He hasn’t been here in a while, and it makes him feel a little nostalgic — this shop was usually his first stop after a visit to the Metaverse, and if it wasn’t for Iwai, he wouldn’t have known what to do with all the valuables they found in the Metaverse.
He pushes the door open and immediately spots the older man, who seems kind of lost in thought as he rearranges various goods on the shelves.
“Yo, Iwai-san,” Akira greets him, and the shop owner visibly flinches.
“Oh. Hi, Akira,” Iwai replies, relief painting his features as he turns to find his old acquaintance in the doorway.
He looks… tired. Wary. Akira sees dark bags under gray eyes that are darting around nervously, as if Iwai was still a Yakuza, and that wasn’t part of a life that he abandoned decades ago.
“Anything the matter?” Akira asks, setting his bag down on the counter, but Iwai only shakes his head.
“Nothing. I’m just running a bit low on sleep. Thanks for helping me out.”
“No problem,” Akira smiles.
A moment of silence passes between them, as he observes the tired man struggle to stay standing. “Get some sleep. Leave the shop to me for the rest of the day.”
Half an hour (and a lot of convincing for Iwai to go home and take a nap) later, Akira is on his own.
The drumming of heavy raindrops against the windows is soothing in its steady rhythm, and Akira hums a song as he rearranges some of the merchandise in the store window.
He hasn’t seen any customers today, besides two middle-aged men who have been looking around the shop for around ten minutes, seemingly in search of something.
“Can I help you?” Akira asks one of the men, but he doesn’t grant him a response and keeps eyeing some of the knives and daggers.
Akira shrugs his shoulders and hoists a box filled to the brim with various goods to put back in the storage room. As soon as he returns to the counter, he notices some old receipts that Iwai must have dropped, and crouches down to pick them up.
“Where’s the part-timer?” he suddenly hears a hushed voice speak.
“I saw him enter the storage room earlier. We’re good to talk here.”
Oh? Interesting.
Akira keeps his position crouched down behind the counter to listen in a little to their conversation. If they didn’t keep proper track of Akira’s movements, then that’s on them.
“Iwai seems to be avoiding us. I think that tells us everything we need to know,” one of the men continues.
“He’s foolish to think he can just cut ties with us that easily,” the other grumbles, and it hits Akira that they must be ex-comrades of Iwai’s — Yakuza, in other words. They had a similar case once, back when the Metaverse was still around.
“I tried my hardest to convince him to come back. He should know that was a warning, not a plea.”
“Then it can’t be helped. Let's deal with it sooner rather than later.”
“It’s hard to catch him alone, though. He probably knows we want to get rid of him. We need to lure him somewhere.”
“I don’t think that’s a problem. His weakness is his adoptive son. If we even just mention him, Iwai will do whatever we say, I can guarantee you that.”
Nausea boils in Akira’s stomach as he follows the hushed conversation. Well, that would explain Iwai’s stressed, borderline paranoid, look earlier. Poor guy, being caught between his son and his past as a Yakuza once again.
Carefully, he crawls back into the storage room, then re-emerges from the door once the two men seem to have finished their conversation.
“Have you found anything to your liking?” he asks, flashing his best customer service smile, even though anxiety is bubbling in his stomach. It’s times like these that he’s glad he’s still wearing his fake glasses occasionally. They always make social interaction a little easier, even if that interaction happens to be with two Yakuza who may or may not be after his boss's life.
One of the men steps forward and wordlessly places a dagger on the counter. Akira scans his ID, as it is protocol, and remembers to make a mental note of the name on the ID — Kiyota Hisashi. There’s a good chance the ID is forged, but better be safe than sorry.
He puts the man’s purchase into a bag and smiles at him, which is only met with a scowl from both men. Murmuring a half-hearted “thank you,” they hurriedly leave the shop.
Akira gulps.
Okay. Stay calm.
He takes a swig of coffee from his thermos can and leans against the counter, biting on his nails as he contemplates what to do. Had it been five years ago, he would simply tell the Phantom Thieves about it; they would gather information on their target, go to the Metaverse, and change their heart.
The Metaverse isn’t around anymore, but the Phantom Thieves still are.
Even though he’s not as close to everyone anymore as he used to be — Makoto and Haru mostly keep to themselves, Sumire is busy with university and gymnastics, Yusuke tends to disappear for weeks at a time if inspiration strikes him — their group chat never died. Akira contemplates for a few more moments, then gets out his phone and opens his messenger app, just to find the group chat currently having a heated debate about the best Kitkat flavor.
The Phantom Thieves (retired)
[13:03] Panther: This is ridiculous
[13:03] Oracle: inari do not ever say this again if you value your life
[13:03] Fox: I don’t see the issue with Wasabi flavor.
[13:04] Panther: You can’t seriously imply Wasabi is above Sakura Matcha
[13:04] Fox: The packaging of Sakura Matcha is quite revolting to me in its simplicity. Wasabi’s packaging, on the other hand, has clearly a lot of thought put into it.
[13:04] Noir: I thought it was about the flavor, not the packaging…?
[13:04] Fox: I do enjoy the flavor as well.
[13:04] Oracle: WHO IN THEIR RIGHT MIND EATS WASABI KITKAT
[13:05] Joker: uh hi
[13:05] Oracle: AKIRA YOURE JUST IN TIME (ﾉಥ益ಥ）ﾉ ┻━┻
[13:05] Oracle: whats your favorite kitkat flavor theres a right and a wrong answer
[13:05] Oracle: if you answer wrong im afraid youre not my brother anymore
[13:05] Skull: lol calm down futaba
[13:05] Oracle: I AM CALM
[13:05] Joker: hold on a second i’m kinda having a problem over here
[13:05] Oracle: oh?
[13:06] Joker: so i’m currently part-timing at iwai’s shop, right
[13:06] Joker: i accidentally overheard a conversation between two customers. i was picking stuff up from behind the counter and they didn't see me
[13:06] Oracle: a true phantom thief <(˘ ˘ ˘)>
[13:06] Oracle: sorry continue
[13:07] Joker: so uh, i think those two guys are yakuza, and they’re probably after iwai. i don’t know the details but they seem to want to tie up loose ends and get rid of him
[13:07] Skull: shit, ain’t that bad?
[13:07] Panther: Iwai-san is an ex-yakuza, right?
[13:08] Joker: yep. he has been in a similar situation before and we had to change someone’s heart, remember
[13:08] Skull: kind of
[13:08] Joker: but now we don’t have access to the metaverse anymore, so i’m at a loss what to do. i don’t want iwai or his son to get in trouble again
[13:08] Panther: Have you told Iwai-san about it?
[13:09] Joker: not yet. but he looks tired and nervous. i feel like he knows
[13:09] Queen: How about contacting the police?
[13:09] Joker: i’d rather not, all things considered
[13:09] Joker: as long as i don’t have solid evidence, at least. otherwise it might backfire on iwai or me
[13:09] Skull: i assume you don’t want to cooperate with the cops regardless lol
[13:09] Joker: yeah, not really
[13:10] Panther: Mhm, it’s a shame we can’t take matters into our own hands anymore.
[13:10] Oracle: how about hiring a pi
[13:10] Skull: what the eff is a pi
[13:10] Oracle: p.i.
[13:10] Oracle: private investigator
[13:10] Oracle: basically a detective, but not directly affiliated with the police
Akira’s stomach churns at the mention of a ‘detective.’ No, this isn’t the right time to think about him. Not now.
[13:11] Joker: that’s worth a try
[13:11] Joker: thank you Futaba, i’ll look into it
[13:11] Oracle: mwehehe (•̀ᴗ•́ )و
[13:12] Queen: Keep us updated, Akira!
Akira exits the messaging app. He taps his chin, considering his options for a few moments, then opens his browser to search for private investigators in Tokyo. The top result catches his eye — a recently opened agency in Kichijoji, run by a guy called Asaka Eiji. The ratings are good, the prices seem affordable, and most importantly, there is a messenger integrated on the website, allowing Akira to reach out to the P.I. quickly and effortlessly. After being stalked by Shido’s lackeys for a long time, he is very cautious about giving out his name or phone number to strangers, so this chat box is pretty nice. He types in a fake name, then settles for an eloquent “uh hi” as his first message.
He puts his phone back in his pocket, ready to wait a while for a response — but to his surprise, his phone chimes up to show a new notification only a minute later.
[13:25] Asaka: Hello. How can I help you?
[13:25] Ren: whoa this actually works
[13:25] Asaka: If you don’t have a case for me, don’t waste my time.
Wow. Straight to the point, huh.
[13:26] Ren: Sorry. Uh, this is my first time hiring a P.I., so I’m not sure how this works, but I think a friend of mine is in trouble
[13:26] Asaka: You’ll have to be more specific than that.
[13:27] Ren: Okay so I work at an airsoft shop, and my boss (the friend I mentioned) has some past with the Yakuza
[13:27] Ren: uhm. this is confidential, right
[13:27] Asaka: Go ahead.
[13:28] Ren: So today I overheard two customers planning his murder. I guess they’re Yakuza too and they don’t like that he quit on them
[13:29] Asaka: And you don’t want to take this case to the police because your friend has a past as a Yakuza.
[13:29] Ren: correct
[13:29] Ren: and also I don’t really like the police
[13:29] Asaka: I see.
[13:30] Asaka: I will take the case. Please come see me at my agency later today so we can talk about the specifics.
[13:30] Ren: Okay. My shift ends at 5, so I can come see you at around half past 5?
[13:31] Asaka: That works for me.
[13:31] Asaka: In the meantime send me all the information you have on our targets. I will do a background check on them.
Akira sends him the name he saw on the ID earlier. Even if it turns out to be a fake name, it may lead somewhere.
[13:35] Asaka: Thank you. I will look into it. See you later.
Alright then. That’s taken care of.
The Phantom Thieves (retired)
[13:36] Joker: meeting with a p.i. later today, a guy called asaka eiji, wish me luck
He pockets his phone.
Unfortunately, he still has to kill over three hours until he can go visit the agency. The store is still empty; the rainy weather seems to be deterring people from going shopping today. Akira doesn’t really have anything better to do, so he fishes the phone out of his pocket again with a sigh.
He might as well check some of the reviews left on Asaka’s Google page while he’s waiting.
★★★★★
(Anonymous)
Great service. The agency solved a theft case within hours.
Well, that sounds promising.
★★
(Anonymous)
Not a bad agency, but the investigator is very rude. Whenever I asked him a question, he called me a ‘useless imbecile.’ He needs to work on how to treat his customers.
Akira can’t stifle a giggle. This one makes him think of a certain other detective… wait, dangerous topic. Akira needs to be alert today, and he can not afford to spiral into the thoughts and regrets he has about his ex-rival.
★★★★
(Anonymous)
OK service. A little expensive.
★★★★★
(Anonymous)
The investigator is hot AF. Can anyone tell me if he’s single?
The previous giggle turns into a full-blown laughter at the person shooting their shot in the review section on Google. Well, Ann did tell him to start going on dates again, so maybe he should ask out the hot investigator when they’re done with the case.
Akira checks the Thieves’ group chat — a few of his friends have responded with Thumbs Up-Emojis, but the chat is otherwise quiet — and tugs on one of his black curls. Nothing to do here.
He could bother the P.I. a little.
[13:50] Ren: Are you single
[13:51] Asaka: …excuse me?
[13:51] Ren: Asking for someone on google reviews
[13:51] Ren: They also say you’re hot
[13:52] Asaka: I’m aware of the reviews on Google, thank you.
[13:53] Ren: You didn’t answer the question
[13:54] Asaka: Stop messaging me. We already agreed to meet in person later.
[13:54] Asaka: And unfortunately I am not looking for a romantic partner.
[13:54] Asaka : One more word on this and I’m canceling the meeting.
[13:55] Ren: :(
Well, damn. Akira doesn’t want to endanger Iwai’s life just because he got bored, so he will let the P.I. do his work in peace now. Three more hours. He can do this.
The rest of the afternoon passes surprisingly quickly. Akira settles on busying himself with rearranging shelves, tends to a few more customers, and before he knows it, the alarm he set on his phone for 5 P.M. goes off.
Akira loses no time to gather his stuff, chugs the remaining coffee from this thermos can, and closes the shop for today. When he leaves the building, he finds that the rain has finally stopped and a few rays of sunshine are peeking through the clouds. The air smells fresh and like spring, and Akira inhales deeply. He’s weirdly looking forward to meeting the P.I. — it feels a lot like gaining a new confidant back in the day.
Just when he sticks the key into the lock, he suddenly hears a familiar voice behind him.
“I finally got a hold of him. I told him to come to the location we agreed on, or his son will pay for it.”
Akira looks over his shoulder as inconspicuously as possible, and sure enough, on the other side of the street the two men from earlier are talking to each other. He pretends to search for something in his bag and continues to eavesdrop.
“We’re heading over there right now. Keep in touch with the boss.”
The shorter of the two men nods, then follows his probably-superior as he makes his way through the crowd.
Akira bites his lip. He’s supposed to head over to the P.I., but if he interpreted the conversation just now correctly, those two men are off to go kill Iwai… right now. If Akira wants to save his confidant’s life, he has to act fast. So in the heat of the moment, he decides to weasel through the crowd himself, careful to keep his eyes on the taller of the two men.
At a crosswalk, he quickly fishes out his phone to update the P.I. on the situation.
[17:15] Ren: I’m tailing the targets right now
[17:16] Asaka: What?
[17:16] Asaka is typing…
[17:17] Asaka: That’s supposed to be my job.
[17:17] Asaka: Don’t do this. It could be dangerous.
[17:17] Ren: Sorry. I think they’re heading over to my friend right now. I need to do this.
[17:17] Asaka: Heading over… to kill him, I assume.
[17:17] Ren: Most likely
Akira looks up from his phone. They’ve made it quite far from the hustle and bustle of the town, and the two men seem to be targeting an abandoned warehouse at the end of an old road.
He quickly checks his map and sends the address to the investigator.
[17:19] Ren: They’ve entered this building
[17:19] Ren: I’ll follow them
[17:19] Asaka: Luckily for you, I have a motorbike.
[17:19] Asaka: I’ll be there in ten minutes.
Akira breathes a sigh of relief. If these two men actually end up attempting murder on poor Iwai, he doesn’t think he can really do anything to stop them all by himself — not without the Metaverse.
Though, trying to get into the warehouse through one of the loose grates at the back does remind him of the good old times of infiltrating cognitive museums, banks and casinos. He’s not as light on his feet anymore as he used to be, though, so he has to do his utmost not to land on the floor with a loud crash.
Thankfully he manages a quiet infiltration, and he has a few moments to take in his surroundings.
The warehouse is spacious; he sees rows of containers and what appear to be empty shelves, decorated by an alarming amount of cobwebs. Ew.
The lights are off, but the ceiling is littered with little gaps and cracks that let some light of the slowly setting sun seep in.
He assumes the warehouse hasn’t been in use in a long time, except for whatever shady business Iwai’s past comrades have going on. Speaking of which, the two men are standing near the front door — the taller one keeping his arms crossed, the shorter one holding a revolver — and appear to be waiting. Presumably for Iwai. Akira thinks they’re already past the negotiation stage, and are just looking to get rid of his confidant quickly. He can hear the sound of them talking, but they’re too far to make out any exact words, so he decides to get a little closer — sneaking through the warehouse hidden in the shadows of containers and shelves, channeling Joker to the best of his abilities as to not make any sound that could alert the two Yakuza.
Unfortunately, this place is dusty. And the dust tickles his nose.
Before Akira can do as much as realize what’s about to happen, he sneezes.
He slams his hand over his mouth in terror and ducks behind one of the shelves, but it’s a futile effort; one of the Yakuza shouts a rough “Who’s there?” and Akira immediately hears two sets of footsteps coming in his direction.
Sweat drops forming on his forehead, he glances down at his phone, but there have been no new messages from the P.I. since the last one.
Please, hot private investigator on a motorbike, do something.
Unfortunately, he has no way of knowing for sure when or if the investigator will show up, so he has to get out of this predicament himself.
The Yakuza aren’t aware of his exact location by the looks of it — at least they’re still going from container to container, pointing their flashlight everywhere an intruder could possibly hide — and their backs are also turned towards the front door. In other words, Akira just has to wait for the right moment to make his grand escape.
He scans the room, mapping out an escape route in his mind, and after making sure the two men are facing away from him, he dashes forward.
He runs as quickly as his feet carry him, passing containers, shelves, only a few meters separating him from the front door. He hears the shouts of the Yakuza behind him as they finally spot him — but they won’t be fast enough to shoot, Akira has already reached the door, he yanks down the handle, pushes open the door—
And comes face to face with a ghost.
A mixture of emotions washes over him — shock, grief, confusion, excitement, anger — as he meets maroon eyes that are slowly widening in horror.
Akira doesn’t even need to see the long caramel hair tied back into a ponytail, nor the black leather gloves adorning his thin hands. Those cunning, sparkling eyes that he used to get lost in during chess matches, bathhouse visits and Metaverse duels all those years ago are enough to recognize him.
“Akechi—”
Then, a gunshot rings through the warehouse.
