Archive of Our Own ^beta

At the end of it all, Akira stands in the Velvet Room no longer bound by the shackles of the heart set by the false god. Lavenza silently hovers behind him, book carefully tucked between her arms. He stares up to the ceiling, the fuzzy lights of the faraway world dancing in front of his eyes. 

It is over. Once he turns himself in, there is no way he could continue as the Phantom Thieves--not that it was ever an option, now with the Metaverse imprinted in the real world. It still doesn't quite reach the depths of his heart, that he's managed to slay a god with the sheer power of his own potential, the reality of it keeps slipping away from him. Then, nothing of the past year felt real, has it? He was living a lucid dream, wandering around the endlessly beautiful desert of diamonds. 

His precious jewels he found on the way of his rehabilitation. His friends, his bonds, confidants, rival. He's freed them from the grasps of society by challenging God and the collective unconsciousness and has come out as the bloody victor. Well, all except one--he's failed his greatest heist. 

Akechi. 

"Congratulations," Lavenza informs him politely. "You have managed to defeat the false God and reclaim humanity's future. You are the true victor." 

"Doesn't feel like it," Akira huffs, shoving his hands in his pants because they didn't have pockets. "Still feels like I've lost." 

The attendant eyes him, her golden eyes shining in the low light of the Velvet Room. "I don't understand."

"I-I still couldn't save everyone," Akira mumbles, remembering the engine room, the smell of burning oil, and the echoes of bullet hail surrounding the spacious area. 

She must know who he is talking about, because she shakes her head sorrowfully. "Akechi Goro's fate is an intricate knot--he is, without his own knowledge yet nonetheless, the chosen champion of Yaldabaoth. His price for breaking his chains is his life, with the red string of fate so tightly wound around his own throat, of his own volition."

"I just want to save him," Akira clenches his fist, remembers the look Akechi had before the shutter had come down. 

Lavenza stays silent, merely observing him, then slowly opens his lips. "You cannot save everyone. His chances of survival is one in a million." 

Suddenly, the anger and the despair that has been boiling within the bottom of his stomach boils over, and he bursts, teary shouts aimed at the blue girl's direction. "I've done all this for the world, all this, and they can't give me the one person I goddamn want!?"

The butterfly says nothing. Closes her eyes. Opens it, then hesitantly suggests, "if you wish to play against fate, however..." 

She trails off, and Akira instantly rushes forward, clutching her shoulders as he sinks down to his knees, meeting her at eye level. "However what?"

"I could," she chews on her lips, "I could send you back to the very beginning. It is this power that I have been able to utilize in order to reach you in your moments. Yet... This is not the power to be held by a mortal, you will surely go insane."

The trickster's eyes widen. "I can go back and try again?" 

"One in a million," Lavenza enunciates firmly, "this would be no god you are challenging, it would be the very world you inhabit. Fate is a cruel mistress: once it claims its victim, it is chained down to its destiny. You may be the trickster, yet even you are bound by the wheel of fortune. Despite the odds, do you think a mortal such as yourself would be capable of performing such miracles?"

He doesn't have a choice, does it? Akira's going to win the goddamn jackpot on his match against fate if the prize on the stake is Akechi's goddamn life, he doesn't care that he's playing against the biggest house of all. "Yeah, I'll do it," he murmurs determinedly, "I can handle it." He has to. 

"If that is what you desire... I shall grant you your wish," she murmurs as she opens her book. The pages flutter and the whites of the room turn brighter and brighter as it swallows everything, all of existence, even Akira's pain and hollowness.

n = one

Akira comes into consciousness at the beginning. He isn't sure how it happened, but he is standing in the streets of Yongen-Jaga with his suitcase and the physical exhaustion of  being falsely-convicted. Although he can feel it in his body instinctively, he checks his phone to check that it is indeed the beginning of the year instead of the end. 

He's gone back in time. 

He's been given another chance.

If they'd only met earlier, is the thought that had plagued Akira's mind ever since the seventh palace engine room. Now he can put it right. 

It's hard approaching Akechi before June and the TV station, but he manages it nonetheless through a lot of stalking and even more accidental encounters. He doesn't really need to force anything beyond that: they are the only remaining members of their species that they're naturally drawn to each other, like the opposite poles on a magnet. After staging a thorough yet casual intervention and striking a conversation up with Akechi to implant himself in the other boy's mind, their small talk gains its own momentum and soon Akechi is offering Akira his personal cell phone number, a sparkle in his eyes as he offers that you're a very intriguing person, Kurusu-kun, I'd like to know you better. By the end of the week, Akira texts him the address to Leblanc so they can talk to each other privately in person. 

By June, they're best friends that can reveal their innermost emotions to each other. Akechi begins to open up to him about his vulnerabilities and the feelings surrounding his relationship with Shido--powerlessness, despair, numbness. Being the only one who Akechi can talk to, he becomes the target for all of the detective's furious rants, his frequent bouts of sharing unnecessary but supposedly interesting tidbits about literally everything, and his 2AM nightmare-induced phone calls in the middle of nights. Akira takes all of it with a dope smile as he gives short replies to Akechi's hour-long rhapsodies.

Later, well. 

They end up as lovers in this timeline. Perhaps it is inevitable: without that extreme circumstances of being the assassin and target, their magnetic pull of being two of the kind in this world is far too intoxicating for either of them to resist. Without the barrier, the floodgates are open and Akira is overtaken with an armful of the real Akechi Goro, which he drinks down hungrily, like a man lost in a desert having come across the river. 

Without the walls, neither of them can resist. So it is a matter of time before Akechi, so wracked and alone and lost collapses on Akira's bed after another nightly sleepover, confessing about being an assassin for the powerful and the rich, about his atrociously absurd revenge plan. Akira silently listens the it all, takes in all the accusations of how he could have gotten what he wanted without the Phantom Thieves, without him. Speaking with his expression and expression only as he patiently sits and pats Akechi spilling all his pent up emotions and the much needed tears.

"Y'should hate me," Akechi's chokes into Akira's chest, his usually liquid-smooth voice torn away and only left with sheer vulnerability of an exhausted teenager, abused and manipulated for years without anyone to go to. "Don't know how you could still be here right now after everything I've just told you."

"It's because I love you," Akira professes, clutching the detective tighter. "No matter how you are, who you are. I love you, Akechi."

The detective just stares at Akira wide-eyed, utterly thrown out of his league. Knowing what Akira knows of Akechi's past, he's probably the only person who has ever told him that--and actually meant it, too. "I don't--don't understand how you can love me," Akechi sniffles miserably. "My father couldn't have, I wasn't enough for my mother, nobody, nobody who can see past the surface could accept me. I'm hideous, Akira. I murdered people by hundreds. Why would someone like you, surrounded by so many friends and family, care about me? How could someone like you--" 

Akira can't answer him. How does he love him? Why does he love him? All Akira can be sure of is that it was never a single event--it was the culmination of an entire year, the little bits of short-lived talks coming together like how mere drops of water have accumulated to eventually form the ocean. Akira had spent many fitful nights after Akechi's death, wondering just why it hurt so much, why it felt like his heart was being torn to shreds then came to an eventual, heart-rending realization: oh, he is in love. Not merely feeling guilty over not being able to save the only person who shared his circumstances, beyond losing the one person that shared his mysterious powers to craft multiple faces to be accepted, but love.

Akira cannot tell the detective this--Akechi will falsely assume he's gone insane, or even worse, believe him and tell him he's still clinging to a ghost. So instead he wordlessly takes Akechi's face into his own hands, cradling it how he would clutch invaluable treasure, and breathes out, "you're the most beautiful and perfect person I've ever seen, just lost and broken. Just like me. We all make mistakes, we just have to put them right."

"I was going to kill you," Akechi confesses brokenly.

"I know," Akira replies firmly. "I know. It doesn't change how I feel about you."

"You are a very, very stupid, unreserved and an absolutely unpredictable idiot, Kusuru Akira," the brunette hiccups, his body having lost its strength to keep himself up after all the tears. Then, he mutely adds, "I love you too," sounding profoundly exhausted.

"Stay with me?" He whispers gravely, fondling Akechi's face so that the boy keeps his maroon eyes focused on him all the way.

"As long as you'll have me, always," and Akira knows he has Akechi this time. "Thank you for everything, Akira-kun," Akechi murmurs against the junction of his neck, and Akira can hear the unspoken I don't deserve any of this. Instead of replying, he merely grips him tight and doesn't let go. They're going to make this work, this time with no masks, lies or deceits: the power of two wilds, united against their common enemy instead of fighting each other.

-

That should have been enough, shouldn't it? The power of bonds has the potential to smash even the most tight binding that fate may inflict upon them, Lavenza had said. Akira had managed to break Yaldabaoth's control with the help of his Arcanas, so it should have been enough. It should have been enough. It should have been enough.

"Foolish boy," Shido's shadow looms above the Phantom Thieves, imperious above the defeated Phantom Thieves. Everyone had long been knocked out--it's only through their infinite adaptability that Crow and Joker had managed to keep each other standing, and he can see from the way how Akechi's body is trembling that he's running out of SP. "If you merely had managed to follow simple orders, you'd be on the correct side of this pointless fight." 

"Shut up," Akechi hisses through his black mask outfit, his sword being the only reason why he's not collapsed on the floor, "shut the fuck up. You don't control me anymore. I know better now. I'd rather be a dead man over a living puppet."

"Then allow me to make your wish a reality," Shido aims his golden gaze at his own blood, twisting sadistically as he aims a deadly weapon against the ex-assassin's head. Akechi's harsh gaze aimed at his father doesn't waver, his once-carbon hatred now crystallized into black diamond.

No. Nononononononono. Akira desperately chokes as he staggers towards to where Shido is lifting Akechi by the throat to sneer at him, "Stop, stop, I'll do anything, just don't hurt him--"

"Don't be stupid, Kurusu!" Akechi snarls as he struggles in Shido's grip. Then his eyes turn faraway and wistful as he murmurs, "you know he'll kill you anyways, you dumb piece of shit. Just. Be strong for me, please? I couldn't be here if it weren't for you."

Despite knowing that Akechi is saying those words to help Joker stand strong, Akira feels his heart smashing into million pieces. Akechi wouldn't be here if it wasn't for Akira. Akechi wouldn't be here if Akira didn't drag him into Shido's palace.

Akira killed him this time.

"I love you," Akechi softly offers, and Shido crunches his throat and snuffs the remaining life out of him permanently. 

All Akira can do is watch, hope extinguished. Akechi's last words echo around in his skull, everything turns red, and--

He doesn't--remember how it goes from that. Futaba somehow manages to chain a reaction that somehow, miraculously brings back all his unconscious teammates and they bring the corrupt minister down together. Yet it's too late because not even magic in the Metaverse can bring back a dead man.

Fate is a cruel mistress.

After defeating Yaldabaoth yet again, Akira finds himself in the Velvet Room again. The room has an ephemeral beauty to it, but none of it matters because Akira failed and all he can see is Akechi's dead corpse, its dead eyes staring into his soul, accusing.

"Congratulations," Lavenza offers. The trickster laughs hollowly to it, because he couldn't have failed any more drastically. "You have slain the false god born from humanity's twisted ideals..." she continues what Akira remembers from before, and something hits the raven-haired boy. Lavenza doesn't sound like she remembers what happened. Perhaps it's only Akira who's been sent back. That means... That means.

"Lavenza," Akira desperately reaches forward to her, kneeling down so they'd be at eye level, "I have something to ask of you. I saved the world, right? Can I ask you for a favor?"

The girl's golden eyes widen in surprise as she cocks her head to the side. "It would depend on what you are asking."

"I want. I want another chance. I wasn't able to save a friend... a lover."

"Akechi Goro," she murmurs desolately. "I offer the most sincere condolences."

"Please," Akira determinedly pushes, "just one more chance."

"If that is your wish, I shall grant it," Lavenza concedes, reaching for your book. "I wish you luck in your ordeals, Trickster."

n = two

After what happened last time, Akira can't help but think that perhaps it's been his connection to Akechi that constantly drives him to his death. Akechi would have succeeded whatever he wanted to do with Shido if he hadn't been there to interfere, wouldn't have he? Although the thought of assisting murder makes him queasy, the image of Akechi's body, neck twisted, bleeding and lifeless lingers behind his pupils and fuels a fire in his heart--surely, it could be considered self-defense. Akira can't even be sure that Akechi's ultimate goal regarding Shido is even murder; he did say he wished to create a living hell, after all. With that justification in mind, he promptly plans everything so their paths absolutely never cross. 

Akira obviously can't not be a Phantom Thief with Kamoshida threatening to expel him and Ryuji, but he alters their MO's so they're more incognito this time. They still go around changing hearts, picking up Yusuke, Makoto and Futaba on the way, but instead of becoming a phenomenal sensation, the Thieves turn into an urban legend, a silent shadow; whispered reverently among the boards of 2chan and high school teens, known by far too less. It's hard, but they still garner enough popularity that they attain the ability to travel deeper into Mementos, and Akechi lives his faux detective life, barely aware of the Phantom Thieves.

Akira yearns to touch, but he takes a shaky breath and always flees before they can come into contact. He's there at the TV studio, but he sits on a different spot so he doesn't receive the microphone. He goes to a few of Akechi's shoots, silently hovering in the background away from the detective's line of sight. It hurts, fuck it hurts being able to see but not touch, but whenever he thinks back to Akechi's corpse all he can think is that this is retribution for his sin--murder.

There never appears another Justice Arcana to fill Akechi's place, the XIII stays missing during the entirety of the year. 

Eventually, December comes, and as the Phantom Thieves are in a middle of a heated debate about their next target, a news report grabs his eye and he drops the coffee tray he's been prepping for everyone.

Famed Detective Prodigy Akechi Goro has been found dead in his apartment at 9AM early this morning. The police are investigating the exact cause of death, but preliminary reports indicate that the wounds are most likely self-inflicted, pointing to a suicide...

The porcelain shatters and the shards digs into his feet. It instantly attracts everyone's attention and they all rush from their seated position to help Akira clean up. They all ask what happened; but Akira can't tell any of them the truth, about how he spent a painful year avoiding the one person he was doing all this for only to learn that it was a pointless endeavor. So he tells them his grip on the tray slipped. His hands are bleeding which Makoto helps bandage up. 

Ryuji flicks his gaze and mutters, "huh, the detective guy ended up dead? I guess a guy like that has reasons to be depressed too, huh."

"He works with my sister, and I've met him a few times, but I never knew..." Makoto trails off, organizing the first aid kit and sighing.

Then it hits Akira: here, in this universe, none of the Thieves know Akechi properly. He had been completely alone in his isolation and still ended up dead. There would be no one truly at his funeral excluding Akira at, and this, this--

He wants to get out of here. He has to start over. This universe makes him want to vomit.

Convincing the Phantom Thieves to go after Shido isn't that difficult considering he's been the one responsible for Akira's probation. When Akira tells everyone that he's the one responsible for the mental breakdowns, despite having questions as to how Akira had that particular information (Makoto more than all the others) they unanimously decide to trust Joker, thankfully. 

The palace is a blur. His trigger-happy finger is barely restrained as he, by every sense of the word, tears through the palace to get to the corrupt minister. The others worry, but stand strong behind him. 

Joker just barely stops himself from pulling the trigger aimed at Shido's head after his treasure is stolen. Barely.

"Trickster, you seem..." the butterfly girl questions tentatively, "discontent."

He can't stand this world, where nobody knows him, nobody mentions him. Not even Lavenza infers to Akechi's existence despite them being thesis and antithesis, the two sides of the same coin. It's like he perished from everyone's minds. It's disturbing and chilling, and he wants to get the hell out of here.

"Lavenza," Akira breathes, "I was wondering if you could do a little something for me..."

n = three

Having learned his lesson about keeping his distance, Akira keeps himself extremely integrated to Akechi's life again. Once he does--oh, it's like coming in contact with air against after being suspended underwater for minutes. Yet he knows logically if he changes nothing, he'll merely lead back to the first retry to when Akechi gave his own to save Akira's. 

He pinpoints the problem: it's Shido, obviously. Shido had been planning to kill Akechi from the very beginning in order to complete his ascension, and the Phantom Thieves have been nothing but another convenient accessory to complicate the string leading back to him. The answer states itself after that: he has to rid Shido of his twisted desires before he has a chance to strike at all. 

It's a pain in the ass, traversing in Shido's palace at late April with merely Morgana, Ryuji and Ann's under-leveled Personas. A single hit capable of decommissioning any of his friends, Akira finds himself travelling in the depths of the twisted man's ship alone, his friend's worried gazes and Morgana's frantic support echoing behind him. It's hard, but it's not impossible, especially with how strong he's gotten with the three attempts at life he had before. They succeed, and the confession goes live, and Akira watches as Akechi breaks.

Akira should have expected from hindsight--Akechi's sole determination to destroy Shido had been what kept him upright, and in the other times there had been Akira to share the burden with, even if their relationship had been riddled with metaphors and minced words, but there had been none of that this time around, with Akira occupied with Shido's nightmare of a palace. It's only afterwards he tries to approach, when Akechi's soul is cracked open like an egg, which makes it all far more difficult--Akechi doesn't have a reason to be nice anymore, no reason to keep up the all-adored protégé detective prince act without Shido. Despite the haughty and sharp replies pointed his way, the thief still manages to befriend the detective only with the sheer force of his will, the two of them becoming remote acquaintances in time. 

Cradling his cup of now lukewarm latte, the detective sits in an empty but scenic Leblanc, his scattered papers abandoned around him. Out of the blue he asks, "was it you?" 

"Hm?" Akira hums in the midst of pouring a second cup of espresso for himself. "What was me?"

"You and your groupies are the Phantom Thieves," Akechi piercingly states, sharply barking out a, "don't even think about denying it, I have eyes and Sakamoto has no self control," when Akira opens his mouth to deny the accusation. 

"What if I am?" Akira fires back, and his heart stops when the detective retrieves a gun from his briefcase--Akechi keeps a goddamn gun in his bag, what the fuck--and aims it steadily at Akira's head. 

"I should kill you," Akechi's eyes are blank and his words are hollow. "You ruined everything." 

Akira is really glad that there isn't any other customer in the café, and that Sojiro went out to check on Futaba today, because he is most certain the gun the brunette is waving at him is not registered. He's also seen more than a few guns in his trips to the Metaverse to know that the gun still has its safety on and cannot possibly hurt him, at least for now. The trickster has no doubts that Akechi has both the moral depravity and the instability to pull that trigger in real life, so he keeps his voice steady as he replies, "but killing me won't turn your bitch ass father into a jackass again."

The assassin's eyes turn wide at that, and his index finger trembles on the trigger. "How do you know--no," he shakes his head as his entire body trembles, "he won't. But this'll make me feel better."

Akira keeps his gaze fixed steadily. "Will it really?" 

Akechi throws the gun at Akira for that. The thief easily catches it with heightened reflexes and places it on the table, next to the coffee growing cold.

"Of course it won't, Kurusu," the detective spits viciously, knocking over his cup as he slams his gloved palms against the counter. "Do you have any idea what I've done for this!? And you, you just walk into his palace with your stupid cat and your thick-headed friends and ruin years of intricate planning."

"We've been in Shido's palace, we have an estimate of everyone you killed," they've met Akechi's soulless cognition in his palace, after all--and he's been far more lenient in offering information, with Shido's defenses down. Akira's had the enjoyment of tearing the cognition to pieces after, feeling sadistic pleasure in finally, finally getting the revenge for what had started this in the first place.

"I just don't know what I want to do," Akechi stews in defeat, "getting my revenge was all I ever wanted from life, and you went and ruined it."

"We stopped you from killing someone," Akira grumbles, but grins inadvertently knowing he's won this round. 

"Two years too late for that, don't you think?"

"We stopped you from committing patricide, so I'll still call this a victory," Akira shrugs and slides the gun back to Akechi. "Next time you're going to threaten a Phantom Thief with a gun, try sliding the safety off first. Anyways, if you don't have anything to do, why don't you join us? Make a difference. We could use someone powerful as you on our team."

Akechi blinks confusedly, the words quite not sinking in. Once they do, he flinches visibly, his knuckles probably turning white in his worn-in leather gloves. "You know how many people I've killed, and instead of turning me in, you're asking me to join your merry band of delinquents?"

The raven-haired teen shrugs. "Yeah. How am I even supposed to turn you in? Hey, you know the Detective Prince, the one that's been helping you solve cases? Turns out he forged most of the cases he solved by causing them int he first place. Ignoring the absolute chaos that would incur, there's just no way they'll be able to prove that, even with Shido's confession. Consider the Phantom Thieves your metaphorical prison, I'm sentencing you to a year with Ann, Ryuji and Morgana's 'hey, Joker, it's time for sleep.'"

"I can't," the detective stares at his boots furiously, "I cannot possibly understand you, Kurusu Akira. The things I've done, the people I've killed..."

Akira sees an abused, affection-deprived child who's been manipulated and pressured into murder. He wonders if Akechi could ever see himself that way, too--then perhaps the illusion of control is what helps the assassin come to terms with everything he's done. Over time, perhaps. "Can you accept that I want you around, and leave it at that?"

Miraculously he does, and joins the Phantom Thieves. Black Mask is, well, vicious. Akira doesn't blame him for having so much pent up anger this time around, tearing through the palaces like an unchained beast. His abject moral depravity collides heads-on with the other Phantom Thieves, especially when he tries to kill Madarame after learning what he's done to Yusuke and his mother, but his sheer experience and flexibility eventually wins them over. The proceeding year is a stark contrast to the last one where nobody knew Akechi; this time he stands tall besides Akira, being his trustworthy right hand man but also the mature and responsible sub-leader the other Thieves could lean on at the times of turmoil.

The nine of them knitted together like family destroy the corruption within the system, then kills a corrupt, man-made god with a bullet to the head and a blade to the stomach. On Christmas Eve, it begins to snow, and Akira is within the protected walls of Leblanc after a short talk with Sae--thanks to the Phantom Thieves, I think we have enough evidence to handle this from now on. Go get some rest. To not disappoint the prosecutor, he flops around on the top of his bed as he awaits the text from his boyfriend. 

you: You're running late, where are you?

Akechi: I'm on my way. Don't hurry me.

you: My room is so cold without you...

Akechi: Your place is cold because it doesn't have a proper heater and you live in an attic.

you: ):

Akira stifles a laugh as he plays with the small box in his hand. It's not a proposal, obviously not, but he's walked by the shop windows in Shibuya a few days ago with Ann and impulse-bought a pair of rings that were designed like Arsene and Loki. Akechi would probably call them stupid-looking and complain at Akira for spending money on such useless tinkering, then wear them every day--the very thought of it warms the thief's heart. His phone chirps, indicating an incoming text.

Akechi: Move out of there.

you: Into your place?

Akechi: Hah, you wish. I have to move out to college in March.

Akechi: However, if you truly are my match and can get accepted into Tokyo University, I might just let you move into my new place.

you: How in the world did you get accepted into Tokyo University while doing Everything?

Akechi: I'm very, very smart.

you: Help me study for the NCTUAs?

Akechi: You'd better earn it.

you: I'll do more than that.

Akechi: Will be there in 10mins. Have cake.

you: Aww, did you buy us cake for our first Christmas? Hopeless romantic.

Akechi: Shut up...

Ten minutes. With that in mind, he pockets the phone in his hoodie pocket and pads towards the first floor, flexing his fingers. With a quick smile to Sojiro and Futaba, he ducks his head to retrieve the coffee maker, brewing Akechi's favorite cup with a light hum. Futaba gags, calling his expression stupidly over the moon, and Sojiro just grunts and tells him to use protection. Akira just tells Futaba to turn off the cameras in his room and sits on the stools, silently waiting for his lover to walk in.

Ten minutes turn into ten, then into twenty and into thirty with no messages of any sort from the detective. The raven-haired boy frowns--Akechi tends to be so terribly on time that it's borderline irritating--and tries to call his phone, but it straight goes to voicemail. The churning feeling in the stomach morphing into full-onslaught of anxiety, the thief snatches his coat from the rack and immediately heads out left. Akechi has a wayward route he takes from the station that he enjoys because there are seldom people gracing it, so Akira dashes through the dimly lit alley. It's probably just Akechi's iPhone running out of battery, I'm probably worrying over nothing, we defeated Yaldabaoth together--

Noticing a familiar brunette in the distance, the raven speeds up to reach forward to him. He's slumped in, head pointed down, his two arms clutching a box tightly. Desperately he lands a hand on Akechi's shoulder, crying out, "I'm so sorry, I was too slow--are you alright?"

The movement startles Akechi's body, and the cake box falls out of the arm-lock, and it is then Akira properly realizes the sheer extent of Akechi's injuries--the bruises flowering on his entire abdomen and thighs, his lifelessly pale face, his stomach bleeding out from a broad gash. The sprayed garnet is visceral in contrast to the clean, white snow. His stomach twisting into a complicated knot, Akira tries to calm down and take a pulse, and realizes he can't find one. He panics, calls the ambulance, and pulls Akechi's body into a crushing hug, hyperventilating, you can't leave me, you can't leave me now, you traitor.

Akechi's extinct body turns colder, the warmth stolen by the world as every second pass. Stolen from Akira. Again.

They say it's a hit and run--an unfortunate accident, the doctors say, and something that could happen to anyone. Because the route Akechi usually takes is so untraveled, the police tell him that they wouldn't even be able to find out who's responsible. Akira wordlessly steps into the velvet room again, organizing all the precious memories of this year into a tiny box and shoving them into the corner of the mind so he could start over again.

He is so, so tired. But he's gotten closer now, and there's a spark of hope there. Only a few days, right? If he just has to pass the new year's day.

"Lavenza, can I try...?"

n = 1_7_41

It happens again, again, and again--each time, without fail, like clockwork. No matter what route he takes, Akechi Goro always ends up exhaustively dead in front of Akira's very eyes: sometimes with a smile, sometimes with a frown and sometimes while completely unaware of his own impending doom. No matter what the Trickster tries differently, before the end of the year, the brunette in the center of the loop would breathe his last breath. Unable to accept this ending, the raven attends the crow's funeral and slips back into the very beginning with the blessings of the overseer. Lavenza had said it was only possible for Akechi to live is one in a million chances. Akira is starting to think that number is literal, not merely a huge number the attendee chose at a whim.

Yet he doesn't, can't stop. With every reboot, every retry, all he can think is maybe if I do this next time, maybe if I change this, I have to be close. It is addicting, getting closer by every effort but still not able to reach January 1st, like a variable converging to zero. He's like an addict strapped to the casino, except instead of wasting his life savings, he's gambling away his future, his very soul, his sanity and his very existence.

But what's the point of a future without Akechi? Where would Akira even go when he's lost the one person who could possibly understand how he feels, what he goes through? Surely it's worth his own life if it'll bring Goro back, the thief justifies as he stands in front of Leblanc, the world he inhabited mere hours ago molten into lava and remade back into the past. 

Along the way, Akira loses his very self. 

n = 11_#%2

"You are out of your goddamn mind." 

Yes. Yes. He probably was. 

"So you're what, just going to offer yourself to me? Nobody is that altruistic. Everyone does what they do for their own gain, why should I even trust you?" 

Altruism? This has nothing to do about that. Akira is as selfish as they come; he is willing to do anything as long as he is able to get what he wants. It's just that, sometimes, when your wish is a human being instead of an object, you have to work a bit... flexibly. Akira must have taken all the route he could have taken without pulling this off, so he's willing to give it a try.  After all, if this one doesn't work out, he could start again and nobody would even remember. It would merely be a black smudge in his own heart that could be erased in time. There is no God to judge his path, no consequences for his action. Merely the wheel of fate watching him running in circles and circles, mocking him of the fish he won't ever be able to get.

"I'll give you some credit, you are powerful, and you have just given me ammunition..."

That is how Kurusu Akira, once the embodiment of hope, the one evidence of humanity's seven deadly sins having promise of rehabilitation, finds himself standing over a dead body--well, a metaphorical dead body, as shadows tended to vanish if you pull a bullet to its head--trying to convince Akechi Goro, Black Mask, the mastermind behind the mental breakdown and the puppet dancing by the tunes of the God of Control, that he is on his goddamn side. A small shard of him cannot believe this is what he's been reduced to, a murderer and a killer, but the majority are just desperate to escape this accursed loop of two thousand and sixteen.

"I'm telling you, I just want to help you get your revenge," the Trickster hisses hysterically. "Going around this place alone is dangerous, and you know you'd benefit from having a partner by your side, especially one as powerful as myself."

The brunette covers his arms, his face unreadable under his helmet. His voice is laden with disbelief and he huffs, "but how do I know you're not a trap set by my own..." a pause, "employer to get rid of me?"

"You could just say Shido."

"Oh, is that hatred I hear in your voice?" Akechi's claws knead themselves together as he leans forward, now clearly interested. "Now you've got my attention. He's wronged you too. Then, he's wronged a lot of people." A pause. "Oh god, you aren't my half-brother or something, are you?"

Akira shakes his head and tries to think up a justifiable reason to hate Shido. As much as Akechi is tuned into the supernatural through years of navigating within Mementos solo, Akira still isn't going to risk scaring him away by telling him that he's restarted the year--how many times was it now, it's starting to get confusing--many times and is trying to save him from dying again. "We are related zero percent," Akira deadpans, then shoves his hands in his jacket pockets, "he framed me for assault when I stepped to stop him from raping someone." 

Akechi's eyes turn dark, his entire posture portraying disgust. "Definitely sounds like something he would do. What's your name?"

He breathes out, and promptly introduces himself. "Kurusu. Kurusu Akira." His own name feels foreign in his mouth, incongruous considering what he's become. Kurusu Akira is the name of the Trickster savior that will save the world, nothing he is now, with black sludge splattered around his Joker coat.

The assassin crosses his arms, posture relaxing. "Now that I think of it, I think I've heard of your name before. I was wondering who gave him that nasty black eye, so I've searched it up, wondered what he just did to earn that... Shame that it was an accident."

Akira's fist goes tight under their ruby-red gloves. "I would punch him for real now." 

Akechi hums understandingly, and lifts to remove his mask. His manic eyes are shining, his face contorted to a lunatic grin--it should scare Akira away, but instead, all he can do is step closer, offering a hand.

"So, what do you say? Want to be partners? Instead of working under some jackass who doesn't understand goddamn shit, we can go around killing people who deserves it. We have the strength."

"I don't work under him, I work with him," Akechi bristles, but doesn't outright deny Akira's hand. The thief knows better--he's heard stories and nightmares from Akechi's own lips, about all the terror and the helplessness he's undergone because he's been so, so alone. 

He's planned this meticulously, plotted this very moment to give Akechi a fruit he could never resist; someone who he could clearly hold his power over and manipulate, yet also desired and wished for him nonetheless. Someone who is in equal footing but still couldn't leave him, and wouldn't leave him. 

Akechi could never say no. "Are you going to pull the trigger? Should I be worried?"

Black Mask tuts, slowly lowering his gun, and shifts his body weight from one leg to another, laser-sharp gaze still fixed on Akira's prone body. "You are extremely intriguing, Kurusu-kun. You are desperate to team up with me despite having the strength to tear through Shido's Palace and killing the man yourself. Why?"

Because I tried, you still die, none of the others will work. I have destroyed and rebuilt the world countless times in your name, and I will continue until you can escape from this repetition by my side. "Wouldn't want to mess up the order. You probably want to kill him. I just want to watch his skull get cracked." 

Right answer, because Akechi finally, finally takes Akira's extended hand. The claws dig into the gloves, leaving marks in their wake. "I think I'll enjoy fighting alongside you, Kurusu."

Akira murmurs utterly deadpan, "I look forward to learning a lot from you too, Akechi-senpai," earning a chortle and a slap on the back in reply. 

Their route together after that is carved in cold blood, with Akechi's morality--or rather an abject absence of it--guiding them forward instead of Akira's. Still worried about his friends, he decides on the Palace owners of his friends' abusers on the rare instances the assassin allows him to choose a target himself, freeing them from their chains without the pain involved with invoking Personas. It's hard this time, with Akechi being his only Confidant and teammate, but it's still much more bearable compared to the one time he kept himself buried in his friends to avoid the brunette. 

They destroy the Conspiracy together, picking off one horrible adult at a time, Akechi's unbelievably creative murder methods somehow making each kill horrifically more brutal and visceral than the last. The assassin, even dredged in shadow blood clutching his serrated blood with pieces of meat and intestines still tangled between those edges, is still so tragically beautiful as he manically grins up to Akira and rapidly fires the names of the other people they're going to kill next--by Loki's Maragidyne this time, perhaps, they've never tried burning shadows alive, haven't they? 

Akira never says no. He silently smiles back, letting Akechi's fevered joy of manslaughter asphyxiate him and rebuild him again, encouraging the insanity without words. The pair of shortblades he carries somehow becomes both heavier and lighter each day.

Maybe they're insane, yet considering they are two of a kind and the only travelers of the Metaverse, so maybe here they're the norm here, at the least.

Months pass, and their solidarity pulls them closer and closer until they're melding into one, their relationship evolving into something far beyond mere partners of crime. The closest word to describe them would be soulmates, but even that word rings hollow compared to what Akechi and Akira shares. Akira is Akechi's equal companion, and in turn, Akechi is Akira's only confidant. They naturally find themselves falling in bed trying to drown themselves in the others' existence, their hunger for human relationships hyperfocusing upon each other, taking, devouring, consuming possessively, finally having met the only other of their kind.  The world around them, anything and anyone excluding each other, fizzes away to a dull rumble, the two of them being the only colors vividly striking in a black and white cinematography--maybe that's why it's so easy for Akira to cross lines, to ignore society's moral bounds; it's because nothing else in this word except Akechi matters.

While the two killers are busy sinking their teeth in each other to leave indelible scars both in body and psyche, the police and government turn more and more desperate as more victims of mental collapse increase in number each passing day, Shido in particular intent on catching them to these cold-blooded murderers outwardly exclaiming rightful justice. The both of them know better, especially Akechi who's worked him for so long; he's terrified, Akechi's eyes shine rabidly, lips spread out to a manic grin, he's actually breaking, knowing that we'll eventually come after him. 

The searches turn more intense and bounties start appearing over Akechi's head despite there being no evidence against the brunette, showing just how desperate the opposition must be. For his own safety, Akechi decides to stay in the Metaverse permanently, dealing with easier targets in the time Akira attends school in order not to have suspicion befalling upon him.

Then the police throw down their trump card. Sae Niijima.

Probably the only person apart from Akira that Akechi would care to look a second time.

"Fuck," Akechi hisses, violently throwing down his sword and dissipating a poor shadow that unfortunately crossed his path, "Fuck. Of course she would get involved in this. Of course she has to make my life as difficult as possible. Sae-san, why can't you keep your goddamn head out of places where it doesn't regard you?"

"She's ambitious," Akira murmurs, picking at his gloves and being on lookout for the Reaper as Akechi exerts his fury on passing shadows.

"She doesn't get enough credit despite her talent solely because of her gender," the brunette grits, his longblade doing a 180 as its edges drive into the shadow creeping behind him. "A feeling I'm quite aware of myself, that's why I could tolerate working with her."

Which, coming from Akechi Goro, may as well be a confession of love. A platonic one, at the least. 

"They're offering her a position she would never be offered under normal circumstances. A part of her would feel that this is shady but the majority of her desperate for a chance to prove herself is driving her forward," the raven notes indifferently. The clanking of chains aren't here yet, they should be a safe for a moment longer. 

The jumpsuit-clad one just makes another frustrated sound. He stopped cutting the shadows, but Akira knows his bloodthirst isn't remotely quenched, not yet. "Thank you for the thorough analysis, Joker. Do you have anything of importance to note or are you trying to piss me off, too?" 

"We have do get in her palace," he murmurs, "have to tear at the source. It'll teach them a lesson." Except Joker doesn't feel comfortable murdering Sae either, because despite everything she believed his inane story, became his closest confidants in the end. Not to mention if he killed Sae, Makoto would be left truly to herself with no one to rely on...

(Even if Akechi lives, could you live with yourself?) 

Neither does Akechi, apparently. His claws are tearing into each other, making a light screech. The raven's never seen him so hesitant to murder before, the pair of primal crimson eyes heavily fixed against the swirling ground instead meeting Joker's resolutely. 

"You don't want to?" 

Akechi doesn't say no, far too prideful to, just bites his lips and continues to avoid his eyes. He must feel that caring is nothing but a weakness to be lacerated away. Akira sighs. 

He wonders if this is why Akechi proposed infiltrating Sae's palace in those worlds where he became part of the team while still remaining as a subordinate of Shido's. Sae has always been both incorruptible and too perceptive to overlook just how much the Conspiracy had its fangs sunk in the system, and it would be only a matter of time until her name was on Akechi's hit list. 

If they took her treasure, she would be nothing but a shell of who she'd been, with the adamant determination that defines her no longer keeping her upright. It would cause her to fall down a depressive devolution.

Yet she'd still be alive. 

"I am going to suggest something," Akira starts slowly, "it's very complicated how I came to know about it, but it works." 

So that is how Akira tells Akechi about the MO of the Phantom Thieves in a world where the Phantom Thieves never came to be. Akira informs him everything: about the securing the route and sending the calling card and planning a magnificent heist to steal the treasure. Akechi listens to him carefully, eyes going wide around the word 'calling card' and deadpanning around the word 'treasure.'

"That is the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard," Akechi hisses.

"Your clothing in the Metaverse is actually worse," and since they're in Mementos, all Akira has to do is point at Akechi's belt-adorned black-and-blue stripe spandex. "I have to consciously stop myself from laughing every time I see it." 

Ignoring the blatant jab against his person, Akechi crosses his arms, indignant at Akira for even suggesting something so absurd. "There is no way something like that could work! Why are you believing in such nonsense, anyways? Where did you even learn this?"

"From a talking cat," not a lie, "that I met when I first awakened to my powers," probably the most truthful part about his Persona awakening, "that helped me get a grasp of how my strength works."

"There is just no way--"

Akira grits his teeth, crossing his arms and staring down at the other teen. "It works, Akechi. Do you trust me?"

"You're not telling me something," Akechi's eyes narrow in suspicion, which Akira meets back steadily. After a wordless battle, he surprisingly backs away. "But I do trust you, as ridiculous as it may seem."

Joker's lips crook up to a smile. "Not ridiculous. Just means we're partners."

The once-detective flinches at the word, then relaxes purposefully. "Yes... partners. I just have one question, Akira."

"Fire away," Akira shrugs. They've gone past keeping secrets, and he's curious why he's hesitating. 

"If you could have taken the nonviolent approach, why have you reached out to me?" Goro mutters, staring down at his claws uncomfortably. "I've killed so many people, done so much wrong before you've helped me realize I've been nothing more than a puppet for Shido's gain..."

Because it hadn't been enough to save the one person he's desperately tried to save. Because even though Akira kept his hands clean, the world kept taking Akechi away from him. So why should Akira offer the world that same comfort? "It wasn't enough to save the person I really cared about. That was when I realized a change of heart wasn't enough, that sometimes revolution can only be built on corpses and spilt blood." 

"I see," Akechi's eyes are distant as he accepts it, then his face contorts into a grin. Not a manic one that he usually wears when killing shadows, but something more understanding. Akira can't help but think if they hadn't maxed out each others' confidants, this would have been a rank up moment. It perhaps had been, nonetheless. Perhaps their relationship evolved past the possible ten. "Let's do it, then. It's this or murder, anyways." 

Sae Niijima's palace is the same fancy and pretentious Casino as Akira always has remembered it being, and he leads Akechi forward with relative ease, not forgetting to grab the second key-card that would enable the bridge at the very end. Akechi, even in his black mask outfit, shows off both his flexible body and mind. The two of them laugh through the events and the incoming constant threats of death--after all they've been through, all they've caused with their own hands, the blockades Sae's shadow throws at their way is feeble at best, pathetic at worst--landing themselves on the bridge at record time. Akira flaunts Akechi's own tricks at his face, earning an impressed twitch of lips from Black Mask, and they secure the route to the treasure without any difficulty.

Sending the calling card is the real difficulty; considering they don't have Makoto to hand the card over to Sae in person, or Akechi's position in Tokyo PD to sneak in surreptitiously for a drop-off, the most obvious and convenient methods are barricaded. The two requirements: for Sae to see it without fail, and for her to believe what the notes are saying, are quite difficult to meet at the same time, especially considering that they as a duo has never sent a calling card before. After consideration, he decides to ask a bored Akechi for his input. 

He grins knowingly, deviously. "That's simple, we just make one of our victims hold it. They can't consider it a joke if a dead man has it."

The more dramatic and high rank the more effective the message would be, the decide. So they reach for someone Akechi has been meaning to target that fits the role, the SIU director. "He forges evidence to win cases. Some habits die hard, it seems," the assassin hisses in disgust, "ever since he's risen to the position where he is now with my powers, he's made a business out of the court, turning the phrase the wealthy win and the poor loses quite literal."

"Wouldn't it be difficult, placing the card on his person for Sae-san to find in the first place?"

"It would be, if I didn't know all his passcodes and his schedule," Akechi shrugs, "he was my main contact back when I was still working as an assassin. I'm not stupid. I'll sneak in and place the calling card when he's at work, and kill him as he's about to arrive. It'll probably be better if I work alone, since we don't want to have the police have any reasons to put you under suspicion. This way you'll have an alibi with this particular murder, and it'll throw them through some loops."

"I'll make some coffee with Sojiro-san and see if Futaba is doing well," he concedes. They're the only people he knows this time around, although the bonds between them aren't as strong as how they've been, nothing powerful that made them his confidants. "Having some extra coffee on our run would be a good idea."

Akechi gets the work (murder) done with the precision of a scalpel, and the news of the director's death hits Akira through his cell phone before hearing it from the man himself. Akira has to try his best to restrain the familiar excitement that he's forgotten over the year--as efficient as were the killings, there is a certain thrill that comes along with the treasure heist, the blood-curdling titillation that you are only given when jumping across the ledges surreptitiously to boldly retrieve one's most precious desires.

Returning to Sae's palace immediately after, he rendezvouses with Akechi already waiting at the entrance, rolling his eyes at the alarm going off with a loud blare over them. Moving swiftly to the safe room, they notice that the treasure is missing, and Sae taunts them forward into the next room. Everything is quite familiar, unlike everything else he's done this time around, unlike the blood spilled, and it must have shown it in his expression because Akechi tells him Akira feels closer to his zone doing this over the murders. He justifies it with passion as Sae's shadow properly takes form to attack them, to defend the treasure.

The battle is tougher with just the two of them, but Akechi instantly notices the trick Sae's shadow is playing instantly, smashes the glass out of spite, and with their experiences and Loki's special abilities absolutely decimates the palace owner.

As Crow holds the fallen shadow at gunpoint, Akira reaches forward to snatch the suitcase from where it has materialized and gives his partner the best Cheshire cat grin he can give. "Told you it'd work."

Being the prideful bastard he is, Akechi merely glares at him once and squints his eyes, as if he's focusing on something else. He's seen that divergence tactic way too many times to fall for it now. "Joker, I think I hear something," he signals Akira with a disturbed expression.

"Yeah, yeah, you're a sore loser."

"Kurusu, quiet!" Akechi cuts Akira's excitement with a merciless hiss as his eyes draw closer behind the thick helmet, his body perking upwards like an alert feline. Between the enforced silence is when Akira hears it too, the indisputable sound of a police siren whirring from a distance. 

"Damn it, but how? We defeated the boss! Is this the part of your ridiculous heist process?"

"No, but that's impossible..." Akira pales, clutching the treasure close. "We're the only ones that has access to the Metaverse." 

"You said a ridiculous cat taught you how to do this heisting thing. Doesn't it count as a Metaverse user?" 

Akira snorts. "Mona can't call the police, he's a cat." 

Gravely, Akechi pitches, "not if it has an accomplice. Anyways, they've probably surrounded the front exit so we'll have to use the back exit instead. One of us will have to serve as decoy for the other to make it outside without capture."

Instantly, Joker steps up and says, "I'll do it. I can manipulate more Personas, and I could talk my way out of it if Sae is the Prosecutor."

"Except with you in custody, there would be no reason for her to stay in her position. They'd demote her immediately and get rid of her if she keeps prying. The obvious distraction is me, Kurusu. They know I'm already one of them, and it's a matter of time they catch me if they catch you." 

No. No. He refuses to give fate any chances to claim Akechi after all he has done, all the blood he's spilled. "I'm not putting you in danger--"

"The moment they catch you outside they'll take one look at you and shoot you down. They have no reason to keep you alive since they know about me already," Akechi illustrates, clicking his tongue as the sound calls closer. "Meanwhile if they take me, not when, if, I could use your identity to keep myself alive while you infiltrate to retrieve me. It's obviously the more logical decision."

Logic be fucked, he wants to tell Akechi to flee as he attracts the attention. Yet Akechi's vice is pride, and that meant when he's decided on something he went through it with no matter the consequences--in this case, it meant they'd both get caught if Akira kept pushing. Sometimes he wishes he didn't know the ex-detective this well. "Alright, tell me what I would need to do. Quickly." 

"If I don't get caught, I'll wait for you on the first floor of Mementos as usual. If I do, I'll most likely be kept in an underground cell so they could do whatever they'd want to me," Akechi murmurs as he fixes his claws so they sit more comfortably on his hands. "There would be heavy security and surveillance if I verify the existence of my partner to extend my living time."

"I know a few hacking tools," Akira murmurs, because from staying with Futaba all those years and reconnecting with her over and over again he's ended up picking up bits and pieces of coding to the point where he could hack and infiltrate systems pretty well by himself. "It's the people that would be difficult to deal with." 

"About that," Akechi shuffles around his outfit--that jumpsuit had space to manipulate? is the only thought gracing Akira's mind--until Akechi removes a holster and drops a leather bag on Akira's gloved palms. It's heavy and metallic. "It's a gun. A real one, not a model toy to be used only in the Metaverse," Akechi chews his lips as he signals at the deadly weapon sitting on Akira's hands. "It's a gift from Shido, the only one I've ever received. For doing a good job, he'd said. I've never fired it, neither in the Metaverse or in the real world, but I've carried it with me all the time because," he struggles with words, biting down on his bottom lips in thought, "because it was still a reminder that my father had been proud of me. I don't need that anymore, that illusion had long been broken with you now by my side. I want you to have it, Akira. In case you come across any difficult obstacles and may need some persuasion." 

Even in the Metaverse, the real gun feels different from the models they use in fights--it's a bit heavier, perhaps with the souls it has the capacity to take weighing it down. Akira thumbs the soft leather, realizing it's still warm from being kept so close to the assassin's body, and nods. He's crossed so many lines for Akechi's sake, what's a few added dead bodies in the real world added to what he's already done? "I'll get you out."

"Akira, before we properly separate," Akechi reaches forward, cradling his cheeks and chin with both of his eyes. His crimson eyes burn fearlessly behind his mask, and his lips quirk to an innocent, genuine smile. Akira hasn't seen that expression on this particular Akechi, and for some reason he feels both elated and betrayed to see it there. "I just wanted to say. I love you." 

He swallows around his dry mouth. Stop talking like this is the last time you'll ever see me. "I'll see you outside. Don't purposefully antagonize the police to get yourself killed." 

Crow's expression turns playful as he snaps the sword in its sheath and gets ready to move. "No promises. Fuck cops." 

"Akechi."

"Just joking, I'm joking!"

Then they execute the plan; Akechi shouting and tearing across the palace, effectively attracting all the attention of the police as Akira carefully takes an alternative route out to safety. Akira drops Sae's treasure carelessly around the casino--no use for it now, if this was their plan she served her purpose luring them out--as he cradles the Akechi's gift to yik. A real gun, the one that would have killed him in some universes, but something that is more precious than his life in this particular set of circumstances--close to his chest, his heart. 

Exiting the palace is easy, gaining access to the building where Akechi is held captive is a bit trickier, but nothing unmanageable with his skillset. By manipulating a careful set of fabricated ID's, hacking into a multitude of government sites and turning off primary alarms, Akira manages to arrive in the surveillance room with Akechi's gun still weighing down in his ankle holster. Easily knocking down the guards, he ties their limbs and duct-tapes their mouths before he flicks through the security cameras, looking for the monitor that would tell him what is going inside the interrogation room. 

It's disabled--you think what happens in this room would be recorded, kid?--but reactivating it doesn't take long, only takes a few rewiring and bypassing firewalls. Soon Akira is given video and somehow audio of the merciless sight. 

"Come on," the suited man sneers as he has a battered Goro by the collars. "You know how this works already, Akechi-kun, and we both know you don't have the fucking guts to go against his orders. Now tell me the name of your partner and he might take you back when you grovel and beg for your life." 

Akechi's face is riddled with harsh bruises and his lip is badly cut, causing a trail of gunky blood to roll down his chin. It's hard to make out with the resolution, but from the way his shirt is rolled up and the needles scattered on the floor, Akira can infer that he's been injected with drugs, too. "Fuck you," Akechi hisses, "I've hated him in the very beginning. I've only tolerated working under him by thinking of putting a bullet in his stupidly thick skull one day." 

That earns him a brutal knee against the stomach. "You little brat, you think you're worth so much because you can go to some other world? Now that we have someone else who can get us there, you're just cold meat." 

Akechi's laughter is frigid cold. "Yet I'm still alive."

"I told you not to aggravate anyone," Akira groans as he checks the magazine of the gun--eight bullets, four guards, more than enough. Once they are reunited, they can use Sae's palace to escape then they can finally put a bullet in Shido's head, something that they've put it behind them too long now. 

Akira's about to walk out to go save Akechi when a man bursts into the room. "Change of plans, we don't need him or the other name anymore, the new one agreed at the cost of... his head, actually," the newcomer flicks his head at Akechi's collapsed form. "Weird, but orders are orders. We just bring his head on a silver platter and call this mess a suicide."

Akechi merely sighs and looks up, and despite his two wrists handcuffed together behind his back and his form vulnerable, he doesn't look adequately scared according to the the torturer's standards that the man that had been responsible for extracting information him reaches forward to throw a violent kick to his gut. Akechi barely makes a noise as he receives the kick, grits it out with what Akira knows is pure spite. "You don't seem that scared for your life. I thought at death's door I'd see you desperate for your life."

"I was a dead man walking ever since I chose to turn my back on him," Akechi's voice is emotionless and frigid as he smirks, the blood viciously twisting the already toxic grin. "I don't care," then he throws a quick gaze at the security camera, and his eyes widen. As if he somehow can feel Akira watching him through the lenses. And, proudly, certainly, he questions, "but call it a dying man's last wish, do you mind if I ask who asked for my head? I just have so many people who want to kill me, and I'd rather know my executioner's name."

The agent hesitates for a second, but then decides that telling a dead man won't change anything. "Calls themselves Noir," Akira feels his blood freeze, no way, just no fucking way, "has a black cat that keeps meowing apparently. Maybe you two are already acquainted," there is just no fucking goddamn way. How the hell did Haru end up with Morgana despite everything, how did she still end up becoming a Persona user--"she's a bit unskilled, apparently, but over time he seems pretty sure she'll be more useful than you."

"Ah yes, brainwashing and desensitizing kids into murderers, Shido-san's number one Modus Operandi," Akechi derides maliciously, "truly the man that will lead Japan to a brighter future."

Ignoring Akechi's quip, the man shuffles around his carry bag and takes out a hand axe. "The bullet would be quicker, but it had been a personal request, and you only get to kill a nemesis once."

"Whoever they are, they seem to have more problem than I do," Goro murmurs, eyeing the hatchet with distaste, "well, I have no idea who she is, can't even guess. I've killed so many people over the years... Perhaps this is karma catching up to me." 

The man grips the weapon skillfully, smirking as he practices waving it around, then approaches Akechi. "Got any last words?" 

"If it's my life that has to be thrown down for Shido to fall, I won't hesitate to for the sake of my justice," Akechi breathes out, having come to terms with his death and the ax in front of him, then he flicks his gaze up towards the camera and gives Akira that smile, the proper smile. "I'll leave everything to you now. Thank you."

Akira freezes on the spot when he realizes that Akechi is talking to him.

"Huh, who're you talking to? I guess you've got to be a little wrong in the head to kill so many people..."

"Come on, Keisuke, let's get this finished already. I have to go see my daughters." 

Akira has seen so much blood and violence while working alongside Akechi over this year, but the sight of the hatchet carving into Akechi's frail neck, the sight of those vivid orbs shining with lively determination one second and containing only the hollow void the next, makes Akira sick to the stomach, and he can't stop himself spewing vomit all across the control panels. Unable to stop his body from shaking he reaches for the door, Akechi, no, Akechi, the gun slipping out of his clammy hands with a click, and he backs away from the sight in horror. It's his last objective side on automatic navigation that retracts the gun from the ground and turns on the Meta-nav to run away to Sae's palace.

Akechi's always been pragmatic. Despite his motives being deeply rooted in rage, how he dealt with anything opposing from Shido is--was--with cold precision that Akira always respected. Akira isn't a type of person who's defined by one's emotion either, but having his partner taken right in front of him like that drives him into blinding cardinal rage, turning him into uncontrolled wildfire mercilessly razing down everything in its path.

There are eight bullets that Akechi left him. He uses the two on the men that were laughing over Akechi's corpse, two on his own ex-teammates that drove Akechi to his death and empties the rest of the magazine while aiming it point blank at Shadow Shido's head.

It doesn't make him feel better.

"Again."

n = ?23?&/?3?_

Akira tries to sit down and truly determine the cause of his failures. Each time he befriends Akechi, no matter what Akira tries to do, they somehow get separated in the chaos, and in that moment fate swoops in to claim his life.

Then the solution is simple: what he must do is not give that moment to fate. He has to keep Akechi away from every available type of danger. Yet that's not quite simple when Akechi can manage to get himself hit by a unassuming car, every part of the universe out to get him. 

Then I'll make it so he can never leave. I won't ever let death reach him. I'll keep him safe myself.

After hundreds of counts of first degree murder he's committed by black mask's side, planning a kidnapping barely scratches his now nonexistent morality. Akira gets a bigger closet from the secondhand shop, one that could fit a human body along with all of his clothes, with the excuse that he has a clothe collecting hobby. He pads all six walls of the furniture with good sound absorption material, leaving just a little spot for the air to vent through. A pair of shackles: tight ones for the feet, and leather-padded ones for the arms are acquired through a questionable shop he hammers into the closet walls, making sure that it is completely irremovable. Then he tosses the fluffiest blanket he can find to make it comfortable--and upon placing his body in it, he decides that although he does feel a little squeezed in, it is almost a better place to sleep in compared to his inflexible mattress.

Kidnapping Akechi doesn't take much effort to his surprise, either. Akira already knows which days Akechi is comfortable adventuring into the Metaverse in the death of the night--another leftover treat left by working alongside Black Mask. As dangerous as he may be, outside the Metaverse they're fairly-matched, and with drugs from Takemi he overpowers him easily, wrapping him in tight ropes and throwing him into the closet. Once Akechi wakes up, they have a little chat.

"Why are you doing this?" Frozen in place, the detective finally manages to ask once he wakes up, breath coming out in short pants but the sentence is surprisingly steely and determined. Akira briefly wonders if that's a part of his detective training--they teach you not to freak out when you get kidnapped, right? He breathes out, and lets his fist relax open. He just needs to convince Akechi he's doing this for his own goddamn good.

"I'm just trying to save you," Akira whispers furiously against Akechi, trying his best to ignore the other's terrified trembling. "I'm just trying to save you because you keep getting yourself killed, and I can't stand it anymore!"

"I don't--" Akechi hiccups, trying to back away from him and even deeper towards Akira's closet, avoiding his eye all the way as he whispers furiously, "I don't even know who you are. Please, let me go, I won't even turn you in--"

"We skipped a few stages this time, but I'm sure we could be friends over time, or if you want, something more than friends," Akira adds hopefully. He had to act before he was a Phantom Thief, removing Akechi from Shido's equations to cripple the man, even if it's for a moment. 

Everything else progresses as it has for the countless thousand times of repeats Akira was subject to, except for that there's a very affronted and irritated Akechi waiting for him every time he comes home. He refuses to eat and tries to bite and escape, scratching against the cuffs he's fixed on the brunette and drawing blood, the attempts leading to failure every time.

It's a bit difficult to explain to Mona why he has a detective in his closet, but the cat eventually relents with a gruff, as long as it doesn't interfere in the heist.

Time is a powerful tranquilizer, because around the time he steals Kamoshida's heart Akechi stops struggling, choosing to glare skeptically at his captor wordlessly. The silence treatment it is. Although his heart is shattered, he doesn't show it, breathing out. Reminds himself that keeping Akechi alive is more important than anything.

"I changed Kamoshida's heart today," in the depth of the night, he offers it nonetheless, patting Morgana's soft fur as the feline mewls happily in his sleep. "In the Metaverse."

"You know about the Metaverse," Akechi mutters in his corner of his closet, voice gone hoarse from all the screaming. "Is that why you kidnapped me? For vengeful justice? Because I was going around killing people?" The brunette sneers dangerously, too exhausted to keep up his fake good detective prince act. "They deserved what they got. They deserved death."

There were innocent, harmless people among them, but Akira is in no moral position to tell him off when he has equally much blood smeared at his feet. Instead he murmurs impassively, "Shido wants to kill you. He will succeed."

Akechi's eyes widen in surprise for a split second, but the weakness vanishes within a single second as he scoffs, "what are you, some future-seer? Even if that was true, that wouldn't matter, because I'll kill him first."

"No, you won't."

"Let me out!" Akechi's voice drips fatal venom as he screeches, but Akira stands his ground. Not when what is at the line is Akechi's life.

"I will in January," Akira shrugs. Akechi screeches louder in reply.

Months pass easily after that. Although he's resistant with how prideful he is, time and loneliness is in Akira's favor, and Akechi starts to open up a bit by bit, the Stockholm syndrome taking form. Akechi slowly learns to behave maturely, which Akira awards him by giving him book or video privileges, later finding him demure enough to undo just his handcuffs. Akira continues to be the leader of the notorious Phantom Thieves, changing hearts of rotten adults and making a difference, then he spends most of his afternoons with Akechi, debating with the teen talk about the book Akira has brought for him or about whatever thought has graced the brunette's mind for the day.

Most of the discussion topics are about Akira's day or about what Akechi read, nothing extraordinary, monotonous but not unwelcome. There is, however, a brief conversation that sticks out to Akira:

"Why are you really doing this?" Akechi regards him like an unsolvable puzzle, sucking at the smoothie Akira got from on his way back from school for Goro. "You said I'd die, but there are less drastic measures than kidnapping me. I just... don't get it."

The raven shrugs. "You'll think I'm crazy."

"I already think you are crazy, you kidnapped me and kept me on lockdown for the past three months," the detective snorts, shaking his head. "I used to be an assassin for corrupt politicians, killing via a cognitive world where everyone had yellow eyes and I had a skintight bodysuit on. How about you give me a chance before you decide for me?"

Akira bites his lips. "I saw you die over and over again, each time closer to living, but never quite getting there."

Akechi breathes out, seeming genuinely sympathetic. Then, airily he adds, "maybe we're in a dream right now." 

Indeed they are. "Maybe we are," Akira concedes.

"Dreams can't last," the brunette mutters, melancholic. His eyes are faraway, and Akira gets a feeling he's talking about a different dream. 

Maybe memories with his mother. The thief feels his heart constrict. "Not when you're here with me," he asseverates earnestly, "you're safe here with me. I'm not going to let anyone take me from you this time, anyone." 

The strange dynamic between them somehow holds in their barely-kept stasis until July. He's managed to hide the fact he's keeping someone up there for the past four months, but it's impossible to hide anything from Futaba Sakura. 

He's braced it for so long that he's only rolling his eyes when she eventually finds out about Akira's mad wife in the attic. Or in his case, the mad boyfriend in the closet. 

"You have a body up there, Akira!" Futaba shouts, and Akira shushes her quickly, waving his head quickly. Thankfully it's a midst of a heat wave and nobody's same enough to drink coffee at this weather, and Sojiro's left after having given Akira the supervision over the cafe. 

The raven, with no one around to call the police, crosses his arms defensively and speaks up in normal volume. "You make it sound like I killed him. He's alive."

"Is he here of his own volition?" Silence. "I thought so. Who is it?"

With a hushed voice, Akira confesses, "Akechi Goro."

A boggled look is returned his way. "You kidnapped the second Detective Prince? The one that went missing in April? Why in the world would you do something like that?"

"Mm-hmm," he hums. As for why, he can't find a good way to explain this without digging into the details, so he decides to be vague. The truth is much more ridiculous than the lie, anyways. "He's in a lot of trouble. Has a lot of people who's after his life."

"Alright, let me guess. One of his case related murderers out to get him?" Akira shakes his head, and smirks at the thought. Akechi would have them dead first. "Debt from private loans?" Another shake, although Akechi was connected to one--Kaneshiro counts as a private loan, right? "Errr, did he stand surety for someone?" Like Akechi has someone who would ask, forget trust enough to accept. "Fine, I'm lost."

"He's a Metaverse user like us." 

"No fucking way," she hisses, "then why do you have him shackled to your closet wall!?"

"He's behind the mental breakdowns."

"Why haven't you called the police, then!?"

He rubs his head frustratingly, glaring at the younger hacker. "To tell them what, oh, you know the detective prince that's been really popular on TV lately? He's actually been behind them himself, they were forged cases? Everyone would think that I'm insane, then they'll try to lock me up, and he'd be free to murder and drive people insane as he pleases. That is a pretty accurate representation of jail, don't you think?"

"I... guess so," she hesitates, and he knows he has her. "Alright, alright! But if the crazy serial murderer and kills you in your sleep, I am not going to call the cops."

A shrug. "That way you'd actually have evidence to lock him up. I'd really appreciate it if you could look over him and bring him food while I'm gone,"

"Fine, but for you!"

Time flies with school starting again, yet December cannot come too soon. Okumura doesn't die without the intervention, yet they still go through Sae's palace as Makoto's suggestion. Akira spends most of his free time next to Akechi telling him about everything he's seen, telling him about how it's gone differently in some of the other repeats. They go through the ship, fighting off a furious cognitive Akechi at the pit, which ends in the Thieve's favor. With Shido's heart changed and Yaldabaoth's battle is only around the corners, he can't help himself from bringing Akechi to a body-crushing hug, in which the murderer-detective reacts with an annoyed grumble and a reluctant return of arms.

"We're so close now," Akira argues, dragging his face into the junction of Akechi's neck to leave a kiss there. "After this, it'll all be over. You won't be held accountable for your sins, I'll make sure of it."

Akechi freezes in his arms. "All over, huh," he murmurs distantly.

Odd, Akira thought he'd be more ecstatic for finally attaining his freedom. "Yeah. We can go to the beach after, although it'd be a bit too cold. Maybe a drive up the mountains? I'm open for suggestions."

"I've always liked the winter beach," Akechi sighs hollowly. "I think... if I'd ever see the end, I'd want to see it there."

"God, Akechi, I--I want us to be together forever, just wait for me!" Akira shouts as he runs out towards the end of it all.

At this point, killing the God of Control is something he can do blindfolded, with his trusted Personas hovering protectively behind him. Without any hesitation he summons Satanael from the ether once again to pierce and destroy the creature that dared to control Akechi against his will, controlled Akira against his will, forced them to fight and conflict. With the world once again saved, he runs furiously towards his home, excited to share the news with the detective.

The moment he steps into the cafe he instinctively knows something is wrong because Leblanc reeks of death.

Taking a shaky breath, he runs to the back of the cafe to find a body. Akechi, two feet still shackled but one of the main chain unlinked, is collapsed headfirst in a pool of his own blood, a gash on his right wrist that goes so deep it's only half attached to the limb now. In his left hand sits the knife, the weapon that took his life.

Akira doesn't have to be a trained detective--doesn't even have to look that closely--to know the wound is self-administered. 

Oh well. He can always just try again.

"Again!"

n = inf - 2

How many times has it even been? Akira can't sure. He's tried so many times that his body cannot process the pass of time properly anymore. He's not sure if he can call himself with that name, no longer feels like an Akira. He is more silent, observant over instantly interfering, less actively trying to contribute to conversations. 

He doesn't feel like anything he does is making a difference anymore. Living the same year as many times as he has does that to you. 

This time he doesn't let things change from the very beginning. Does befriend Goro properly, goes playing billiards and chess in his spare time but not quite enough to let him into the Phantom Thieves. Becomes a phenomenon. Have the opinion flipped on his back by an invalid murder charge. 

Have Akechi betray them, have him shoot his cognition's forehead. It oddly feels better, letting things play out as they should play out after all the divergences. The path he's chosen himself when he's been given only a single chance. 

Eventually, the day of judgement arrives. When they reach the engine room and defeat Black Mask, Akira jumps across the railing before either Akechi could object, when the inevitable wall rises between then, and in that moment of hesitance and surprise, shoots the cognition in the face. It oozes black goo, instantly dissipating and melting into nothing but grimy, sickly aura. Akechi makes a surprised gasp, and he uses that moment to manhandle the weapon away from the assassin. It cranks against the distance as the shutter comes to a shut. 

"You idiot, what have you done?" Akechi hisses as he does, and Akira realizes: 

The shadows. Now without their leader holding their ferocity behind, their aggressiveness is unhinged. Akira's body paralyzes in true fear as they creep closer, breath freezing as the men-shaped shadows draw out their gun and the hounds growl dangerously.

It's quite surprising he could feel scared for his life considering what he has done.

As the massacre of bullet hails begin, Akechi throws his fully body to shield him from the gunfire, his body working as a meat shield against the countless bullets spinning around them. "Idiot," he barely manages to choke out in aggravation, pressing his body completely over Akira before another bit of metal slams in again, again, again, again, again, again, again, again, again--

By the time Akira regains consciousness somehow, how isn't he dead? How? everything hurts, and there is only endless streaks of red. Just barely summoning his Persona to heal away the multitude of wounds, he pushes away the chunk of meat covering him to take a quick take of his surroundings. Thankfully the shadows have all left, deeming both of them dead. 

"Akechi?" He asks groggily, attempts to rub away the crimson away from the eyes, only ends up smearing it across his skin. There is gunk all over him, and he swallows his need to vomit to push them from his own figure. They splatter on the floor without fanfare. 

"Akechi," he calls out again, louder, flicking his glance at where he threw down that gun, seeing the weapon still laying there. He wouldn't, couldn't have moved far, but his wound would have been worse than Joker's, so--Then he meets his eyes with the streak of red and the pulverized piece of meat in front of him. 

Shadows didn't bleed in the typical sense, not in that primal cardinal of a human being's, so then what was he covered in?

Once he realizes that he's covered in Akechi's blood he starts to regurgitate, only quickly moving his body away so he doesn't dirty Akechi's fallen form any more than he has. It really is a miracle how he managed to survive with recoverable injuries while Akechi's been reduced to a slab of meat at most; perhaps that had been because of cognition. God. Fuck. After what he's seen today, he's almost sad that he's managed to survive, if he had died at least it'd put an end of this miserable deadlock he's managed to trap himself in.

Yet he has lived, again thanks to Akechi, and as Futaba's worried navigation connects, he sighs, removes his jacket to cover the horrible sight of Akechi, and takes off. 

"Again, againagainagainagainagain--"

n = inf - 1

He's just so fucking tired. No matter what he does, what route he reaches, what ridiculous stunt he pulls, Akechi Goro always dies on early December, give or take a few days. 

The last one is what finally breaks him. He's seen so many violent and gory corpses of Akechi over and over and over again as a price of his own mistake, but he's never had to push away his corpse, have the blood streaked on his palms. Alive at one moment and dead at next was one thing, feeling the life leave him and the heart srop was something else altogether. At this points he is just so. goddamn. exhausted. 

Surely, it must have been a million times by now. Why won't Akechi just live?

He gives up holding everything in. At the beginning of the year there's always hope, that spark that tells him this is the one, this is the hand that'll finally win him the jackpot. Yet he knows better at this point that it is merely his deluded sense of grandeur, and that he's nothing more than an addict trapped by the gambler's fallacy. There is still a 99.9999% chance that Akechi will end up as a corpse on this one. 

That is why on a snowy December day in Leblanc, he brokenly tells Akechi everything, everything--about how Akira had spent the countless years reliving this period of 2017 over and over and over again, trying something different each time, hoping it would let Akechi live. The boy in question listens to it all, a split of melancholy dancing on his beautifully pale face. 

"I don't know about the first me you fell in love with," Akechi murmurs, still contemplating over the information dump he had just given, "but I don't want you to be like this, Akira." 

"I can't let you die, Akechi," Akira hisses desperately, "you deserve so much better."

"No, you deserve so much better than me," Akechi's voice is steely, "and the last thing I want you to do is putting down your sanity for me. It's gone long enough. You can't save the already-damned. You have to let me go." 

Yes, the past reboot has been driving him insane, but it was insanity with Akechi. A version of Akechi, different each time, loving him in their own discreetly unique ways. Once in a million chances, Lavenza had said, and if Akira has to go through all million grains of sand for that single drop of gold, he will persist. Akira steps closer and pleads, "if I try one more time--"

"No!" Akechi screeches as he pushes Akira away, manipulating their position so there's a few feet between them. "No. You have to stop. I want you to stop. You can't destroy yourself for me," he whispers, on the verge of tears. "Promise. Promise me that if you manage to survive this one, you'll return to the beginning and let everything play out as it had supposed to." 

"I can't promise you that! This is your life we're talking about." 

"You said I died in every single one," Akechi chokes out. "Every single one. Tell me honestly, wasn't at least one of them a suicide?" 

He remembers the dead fish eyes of Akechi bleeding out his wrist from... which one was that, even? He can't really keep track of them anymore. There had been so many. "You died for me," Akira miserably whispers at the floor, "I have to save you." 

"Let me die for you," the brunette steps closer to Akira, lifting his chin up so their eyes would meet. "It was a choice I made the first time, and I am sure I didn't regret it."

"But-"

"No buts. Promise me."

"Okay," Akira whispers, voice wrecked. Akechi pulls him into a hug, and he melts into it. 

Two days later they enter Shido's palace together and Akechi smiles as he takes another bullet to the heart in Akira's place. "Come on, stop crying," Akechi murmurs reassuringly right before entering the Metaverse, perfectly aware that the next moment he'd be butchered like a sheep at a slaughterhouse, "you're going back to where you need to be." 

But you won't be there, Akira thinks but doesn't say, I need you. "Alright," he can only offer, "Okay." 

"Will you restart--"

"Yeah, one last time." 

"I see."

"Thanks for everything until now, Lavenza."

"I wish you the utmost happiness, wild card."

"...See you on the other side." 

n = inf = zero

He goes through the year with a haze. 

The first time. How did the first time even go, exactly? It had been a game of Kriegspiel with their lives on the board, Akira distantly remembers. Akechi plotted to kill him, so he kept his distance and a watchful eye. They flirted around a bit, Akira made him a lot of coffee, talked about philosophy and justice. Always talking with metaphors, lies coated in sweet, sweet truth, masks on at all times. Constant vigilantism, trying to keep their distance, yet unable to resist reaching out for the forbidden fruit because they were truly the two of the kind, like Adam and Eve. 

Akira hadn't even known that he was in love until the engine room, until Akechi was smirking behind that goddamn wall, making him promise. Change Shido's heart for me, he had said, and Akira hardly could have replied with, I love you. Please don't do this. I want to do this together. Not while his teammates were right beside him.

His poker face was something he perfected years before coming to Tokyo, and he really hopes it's enough to misdirect the piercing gaze of the Detective Prince. Hopes that his face doesn't betray the love and the sorrow he feels upon laying his eyes on him. They make small talk, sometimes about the Phantom Thieves, sometimes about Akechi's job, sometimes about the cafe. Never does Akira reveal that he knows what Akechi wishes to do to him and the world, about the bullet to the head that is coming. Both to Akira and to Akechi. 

It must have been enough because they eventually land on the belly of the ship, and there's a gun aimed at Akechi's head by the puppet wearing his own face. "Hah, I've truly been the fool, haven't I?" The boy shakes his head, a bittersweet smile alighting his adolescent face. 

Akira wants to jump forward across the railing, pull Akechi back before he does anything stupid. If he does that now, he'll land there before the shutter closes. Akira stays put. 

Akechi raises his gun. Akira breathes out, closes his eyes shut to contain the emotions from boiling over. 

Why, why why why, why why why why, why won't you let me save you? Why won't you let me be there for you? Why must you shoulder everything yourself when all you've done wrong was being born into that miserable life? Why won't you--

The bullet pierces the air and brushes past his messy locks as it lands exactly on its target: the emergency button behind him. The metal draws up and snaps the room in half, effectively separating them. Permanently, as Akira is aware. Their bond only becomes powerful through the implications of spilled blood, but Akira doesn't care about that, he doesn't care about Arcanas and Personas and bonds and the fate of humanity he just wants Akechi to be there beside him.  

"Promise me," Akechi shouts from behind the shutter, "you can't say no now, can you?" is the last thing he hears before the hail of bullets and the resulting silence. Akira lets a shudder of yet another lost opportunity wrack him, then clutches his fist in sorrow.

I never could. 

"I will," Akira breathes out to the wind, to the emptiness. "I will." 

Lavenza asks if he will start again. He wants to. He wants to, more than anything in the world. Letting go of the year means losing Akechi forever--the one most like himself, by definition  his soulmate. Yet he must, because he had made a promise, and he refuses to break one he made with Akechi. "Not anymore," Akira whispers brokenly, and the velvet room, the Metaverse, and the cognitive world is no more, leaving only the future in its wake.

And Akira is truly, truly alone. 

return to zero_

Time moves on, no longer trapped in its deadlock. Determined to live the life for both of them, Akira tries his very best to continue, no matter how hard he gets--even when he has to go to prison for all of his friends and for the good of society, gets released by a chance of miracle and all the bonds he's made. No longer bound by the shackles, he goes back to his hometown to finish his high school year embracing his newfound freedom.

Akira remembers every single one of the repeated attempts, all the different versions of Akechi he had met over them, and wonders if this was the best choice he could have made. Yet, time is the strongest anesthetic for the heart there is, and over days and weeks thinking back to them gradually becomes less painful, and they turn into fleeting, precious memories.

Four months pass after the collapse of the Metaverse, and Akira can almost say that he now resembles a functioning human being after the extensive therapy he underwent under Futaba's and Sojiro's furious guidance. He even smiles when people cracks a light joke, his heart no longer feeling like it's been permanently scarred. He heals.

He moves on with Akechi's blessing.

It's finally summer break, and he reaches for Tokyo with a barest of a smile blossoming on his face. All of his friends and confidants along with a gruff Sojiro surprise him, showering him with confetti and the disgruntled glares of passerby at the train station. Despite the glitter nearly blinding him, having people he could rely on makes his heavy heart just a bit lighter. They have their proper party at a fancy buffet that Haru borrowed, then they share stories for hours. Sojiro tells him that although Leblanc's closed for the day, he should take a look around there anyways. 

Just for old time's sake.

The spare key's where it has always been, hidden between the broken bricks that surround Leblanc. Retrieving it on muscle memory, he twists it between the locks and twists. He freezes the moment he enters the cafe as if he's seen a ghost, nd that analogy holds more weight than it ever has, because he may as well be staring at one right now.

Because Akechi Goro is sitting in his usual spot, a cup of steaming coffee in one hand and a thick binder in another. He gives a warm salutation once their eyes meet, a silent welcome, and Akira's can't find his voice. 

There are so many things he wants to say but they die at his vocal chord. How did you do it? How are you alive? 

Then he notices the various behavioral ticks--a trick he's picked up while spending so much time with the second Detective Prince.

This is not just the Goro who died for Akira in the engine room for the sake of the Phantom Thieve's justice. This is Goro who he managed to befriend early-on, also the Goro who took Shido's bullet instead of Akira, the Goro who became the Phantom Thieves at the very beginning to eventually become his lover, and the Goro who he's killed for, kidnapped, and even the Goro who had convinced him to finally put it all to rest. 

All the bonds from his failed attempts converging, returning to the zero point, patiently waiting for Akira to figure out the puzzle.

One in a million chances.

It was the first one all along.

Goro's smile is incandescent as he whispers, "welcome home, honey. I've been waiting."