Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Mona’s tail thumps rapidly in Akira’s school bag, anxious at his stillness infront of the cafeteria menu. Even without looking down, he can physically feel those big blue eyes on his face. His pitiful stare hurting more than the hunger pains in Akira’s stomach.

They stand in silence, neither of them wanting to be the first to acknowledge the obvious.

… Is it too late to pretend he came here for some water?

“Maybe Lady Ann has an extra pastry she can share?” Mona eventually suggests.

Akira grimaces at the thought. If he begs for food from his friends, then they might realize something is up and start asking uncomfortable questions. He hates the idea of burdening them with his financial issues. Ann is saving her allowance to visit Shiho, Ryuji wants to ease his single mom’s stress, and Yusuke barely has enough to make the subway on most days.

At least Akira’s 300 yen will get him back to the cafe.

But, according to the cafeteria’s menu, it was not enough to do that AND afford a meal.

“It’s fine,” he says, trying to reassure Mona with a small smile and headpat. It doesn’t work. At his words, his friend’s eyes well with even deeper concern.

Mona may have reluctantly believed him the last seven times this happened, but it looks like he used up all his chances.

“I know you don’t want to worry them, but you should try talk--”

“Don’t.” Akira says, forcing his tone to remain calm despite his racing heart. “It’s fine. I will handle this today, alright?”

Mona frowns, not convinced in the slightest. Akira rubs the back of his neck nervously, hoping to find a solution before his little life coach takes matters into his own paws and demolishes his reliable leader image.

“I will find a part-time job, then this won’t happen again. Promise,” At first he is worried that Mona will still insist on talking to the other thieves, but to his relief, he only furrows his furry eyebrows and looks up at him with determination.

“Alright, but we are going first thing after school,” Mona demands with all the authority a not-cat can muster. Akira already surrendered his bedtime curfew to the little guy, so he can’t find himself saying no to this.

He nods, which finally seems to appease his companion. Satisfied with his win today, Akira walks back to the classroom, until he hears his stomach grumble.

Unwilling to look back at Mona’s disproving expression, he bee-lines to the water fountain.

Maybe some water first would be a good idea.

Akira holds the brochures in his hands, frowning as he reads the conditions and wages of the various part-time jobs.

The convenience store would be the easiest, but the pay was pretty low at only 900 yen per hour. Beef Bowl would be the highest at 1100 yen, but he had seen the awful state of the workers during the night shift. Between school, his Phantom Thief duties, shaking off their stalking Student Council Vice-President, and the various confidants he meets around the city, he is not sure he will have the energy to keep a job there without eventually passing out on the streets.

But he really does need the money. The sparse treasures he finds in the metaverse are not enough to keep his team supplied. In fact, he has been trying to afford Ryuji a new club since Madarame’s palace. Having their main physical damage dealer wield an outclassed weapon was really hurting their offenses.

In short, he needs a job that requires no significant credentials, pays well, and does not send him to an early grave.

From the looks of the pamphlets, it was a hopeless endeavour.

The futility of living in a capitalist society hits Akira like a hama. If pessimism was a stat he is certain he would have gained at least three points from his revelation just now.

“How is the job search going?” Mona pokes up his head to ask.

“Great,” Akira lies. He flips through the brochures again, perking up when he realizes he missed one. He scans the paper, hope blooming as he reads the simple job description and high pay. But like all good things in his life, his hopes die a horrible, painful death as he reads the conditions.

A female between ages 18 and 30. It’s not a normal server role: it’s a job as a maid at a maid cafe.

If Mona wasn’t here Akira would hold his head in his hands and groan. It really did look perfect for him; he has experience serving customers as a waiter back in his hometown and when helping Sojiro at the cafe. But the reality is he has no chance of getting hired. Being a girl isn’t exactly a skillset he could learn.

Or could he…?

One by one the possibilities piece themselves together in his mind. He still has the wig and makeup from his old highschool’s cross dressing competition. And he really did enjoy preparing for it, so he knows with some practice he will have the act down pat. The uniform’s choker could cover his adam’s apple and some padding would fill up his chest area. In the end he will look and act no different from a regular high school girl. This could be possible.

The only hitch is that Shujin Academy forbids their students from working in scandalous places such as Maid Cafes to “protect their prestigious reputation”, so if he is found out he would likely be expelled.

But that is only if he is found out.

A lot of people might call him “rash” or “an adrenaline junkie with a death wish”, but Akira believes that you can’t get very far in life unless you are willing to take some risks. Plus, if your back is against the wall, why not try the fun way out?

“I will call them tonight.” Akira tells Mona, purposely leaving out who he will be calling. If Mona learns he is risking his highschool career, he may try to talk him out of this, which is something Akira can’t afford. Literally.

And he fully believes he can pull this off. A different look, voice, and personality will surely confuse anyone who even vaguely knows about him. Even if some of his classmates walk inside, he is confident they will not figure out who he is. And he can even keep Mona away by stating the place doesn’t allow animals.

He just has to keep this a secret for a while, until he earns enough to reasonably stop.

“And that’s the last of them! Thank you so much for coming in, Ren-chan. You were amazing out there!”

Akira giggles into his hand, smiling softly with slight embarrassment at his energetic supervisor.

“Thank you, Satsuki-san. I was pretty nervous for my first day, so I’m glad I could meet your expectations.” The demure acts seems to work, because Satsuki practically coo’s at him.

“Aww, you have nothing to worry about. So long as you keep doing what you are doing, you will have no problems here. And you know, if any issues or concerns come up, please talk to me. You are still new so you are allowed to make mistakes. We can work through stuff together, okay?”

Akira eagerly nods and raises his fists to his chest. “I appreciate you looking after me. I will do my best.”

They continue chatting until the cafe is completely cleaned up. Satsuki gives him his wage before he leaves, more than double what he would have earned at the beef shop even if you include tips, and then sends him on his merry way.

Akira heads into a gender neutral bathroom and changes out of his feminine outfit and wig, humming happily at how well the day went.

No one, not even his supervisor, suspected his true gender.

The work itself wasn’t too hard for him. All he had to do was serve and charm the patrons with his earnest performance. Satsuki-san and the butlers handled any of the more aggressive customers, which left Akira to focus on his job. It was only moderately busy so despite being on his feet most of the time, he didn’t feel too tired.

Emotionally, it was relaxing as well. Akira had fun putting on this performance. The thrill of it being a secret had, admittedly, felt like pulling off a successful heist. His heartrate spiked whenever he saw a Shujin uniform, but no one gave him a second glance. He even served Mishima who remained bashful and clueless the entire time.

Pleased by his disguise and fuller pockets, Akira dresses back in his casual clothes, wipes away the makeup, and heads back home.

“Hey man, thanks. This bat feels great!” Ryuji exclaims, passionately swinging his new club.

It’s been a week since he took his new job. All of the Shujin Phantom Thieves are on the rooftop, enjoying the breeze and the freedom to discuss their thieving activities without unwanted listeners. The classroom tables and chairs are worn from years of use, but the creaking seats and rough surfaces are nothing compared to the prying eyes of his classmates wondering about his violent past and when he will finally snap. Its nice not being constantly reminded of his record.

Akira is also happy seeing his best friend’s joy, but is unable to express it immediately due to his mouth being full of Autumn bread. He still isn’t used to eating full meals, so he doesn’t have much else. But now he isn’t going to bed hungry anymore which is a huge improvement.

Akira swallows. “No problem. You will have no trouble knocking out the shadows now.”

Ryuji’s grin grows, clearly eager to put those words to the test. At the other side of the desk, Ann rolls her eyes.

“Ugh, do you boys ever think about anything but fighting?”

“You are just jealous I got a new weapon and you haven’t.”

“Am not!” Ann protests a little too fast to be believable. Akira pats her shoulder.

“Next item on the list is a choker that increases mana storage.” He says, causing Ann to squeal and glomp him.

“Thank you! I hated running out of mana at the end of our runs. It was soo tiring. This is perfect!”

Ryuji looks at the scene and snorts. “Now who is obsessed with fighting?”

Before they can start their usual bickering, Mona’s ears stand up straight and he jumps onto the worn out table.

“Shhh! Put that away and stop talking. Someone is coming.” Like a well-oiled machine, the Phantom Thieves swiftly send any incriminating evidence to Akira, who zips them up in a loose gym bag and throws it into a laundry basket filled with discarded gym clothes. Meanwhile, Morgana zips towards Akira’s bag, hiding in the shadowed depths. They then try to act natural, a feat which Ann is painfully failing at, but hopefully no one too perceptive will appear.

Barely five seconds later the door opens, revealing the most perceptive person in the school: Goro Akechi, the Student Council President and celebrity detective. Much like the rest of them, he changed out of his black turtleneck and blazer and into Shujin’s summer clothes. Somehow, despite wearing the exact same uniform, he manages to look like a supermodel with his perfectly stylized hair, wrinkle-free shirt, and clear skin. Compared to Akira’s own scruffy appearance and bad posture, he can only deduce that the President sacrificed the souls of tardy delinquents to achieve this level of polish.

“I heard that students were using the rooftop without permission,” Akechi says, looking between the three students, raising an eyebrow at Ann’s obvious whistling, and finally landing pointedly on Akira. “Though I must admit, I am disappointed to see you here, Kurusu-kun.”

Akira carefully maintains his expression under that watchful gaze as Ryuji scowls at their intruder. Ryuji has always hated the “snobby, stuck-up” President since day one. Akira doesn’t hate Akechi per-say, but he always felt like he was approaching a live wire with metal gloves whenever they crossed paths.

He knows there is more to his senior than his pleasant, rule-following demeanour. For one, he seems to have had it out for Akira since he got here, scrutinizing him as if he is one second away from committing an actual crime. It’s different from his classmates who do so in fearful whispers; Akechi faces him directly as if he is eager to prove himself right. Having his actions constantly analyzed to hell and back always left Akira feeling far more exposed than he would like. Its been a few months and he doesn’t know why he still has the President’s attention, but he hopes it dies down soon. Before the only teenage detective in Tokyo catches onto them.

(Before the thrill causes him to take risks he can’t afford)

“So what? We need permission now to hang around our own school?” Ryuji challenges.

Akechi finally directs his gaze away from Akira to face the rebellious teenager. Despite Ryuji’s apparent hostility, Akechi’s expression barely twitches.

“Actually, for specific areas in this school, you do need permission. I thought this rule was common place within elementary schools as well, but perhaps you had forgotten this simple fact?”

Ryuji grits his teeth, looking ready to get up and argue back. Akira stands up, not willing to let his bro get into a fight he cannot win.

“Sorry, we saw the door was unlocked so we thought it was available. We can leave.”

Ryuji is about to complain, but Ann slaps her hand onto his mouth, shooting him a warning glare. Akira is glad she is able to see the disadvantageous position they are in.

Akechi tilts his head, a brief blankness overshadowing his expression before it disappears so fast Akira could almost say he imagined it.

“Of course you will, and you will not be permitted here again. But I’m afraid ignorance is not an excuse to skirt by the rules. Sakamoto-kun and Takamaki-san, I heard that Miss Chouo needs some help organizing files today: I will let her know you two are available. Kurusu-kun, meet me after class in the Student Council room. I could use an extra hand for some paperwork.” And after declaring their punishment, Akechi turns cleanly on his heel and leaves.

As soon as the door closes, Ryuji removes Ann’s hand and is back to furious.

“That asshole! We didn’t know, so why the hell is he giving us detention? What a stuck-up prick!”

Ann sighs, getting up and “eww”ing as she wipes the spit off her hand. “It’s pretty harsh, but it isn’t like he doesn’t have a point.” Ryuji swivels towards her in betrayal and shock, but Ann meets his gaze head on.

“Look, we don’t have much of a choice here. We got caught breaking the rules. Let’s just get this over with and find another place to meet up.” Ryuji opens and closes his mouth a few times, but when he is unable to find a counter argument, he slumps his head down, losing all the fight he had.

“Fine, fine. It ain’t like I had much planned anyway.” Ryuji says, scratching the back of his head. “Miss Chouo isn’t too bad, she will probably let us out before 5pm.”

He then turns to Akira with sympathy, “You going to be okay? I don’t think I could spend 10 minutes with that guy.”

“It’s fine; last time he was more focused on his work than me.” Akira replies. He is being honest. During his first detention with Akechi, the president concentrated on his tasks.

It was only after they finished did he start asking questions. And when Akira gave monosyllable replies, Akechi talked more about himself and how “fascinating” Akira’s three word insight was. Having a suspicious pretty boy praise him, while not emotionally unpleasant, was still bad for his heart.

“Oh right, you have been given detention with him before,” Ann says, considering Akira as if he could explain Akechi’s preference of personally supervising the local criminal delinquent.

Akira can only shrug. Even if he knew why, he didn’t want them to be worried over him. He fought cognitions of demons and ego-maniacs; he could handle Goro Akechi.

Chapter Text

The sound of the door opening felt unreasonably loud in the after school silence. In an instant, the only occupant of the room turns towards Akira, tilting his head with a welcoming smile.

“I’m glad to finally see you. You are five minutes late, so I’m afraid we will have to extend our time together an additional five minutes,” Akechi says. Akira, still a bit out of breath from rushing here, has no energy to argue.

The President puts down his pen and gets up, taking out a pile of paper from a nearby cabinet. He places them on the table and motions towards the seat across from him. “Please start on organizing these files in order of year and last name.”

Dropping his bag down, Akira settles into the comfortable silence as they both work on their respective tasks. However, this time there is far less to do than before. In only half an hour he has fully gone through the pile, and he still has half of his detention to go. Considering his options, Akira glances at Akechi who seems to be mulling over his notes.

His brows are furrowed as he taps his pen lightly against the papers, lips drawn into a firm line. Serious Akechi is nothing new, and yet something seems off about this scene. Suddenly the person in question looks up and catches Akira’s gaze.

“Hmm? Is something the matter?”

It only takes another second for him to realize the difference. “You are writing with your right hand.”

Akechi appears both surprised and delighted. “Oh? I am honestly impressed you noticed. I do favour my left hand, but I am dexterous with both.” As if wanting to prove so, he flawlessly twirls his writing utensil with his right hand. “It would be rather unfortunate to lose this ability, so I try to get in as much practice as I can.”

He then snatches the pen in his fist and leans forward with his elbows on the table, chin resting on his clasped hands. “Most people never notice, and yet you managed to do so in only a handful of meetings. I must commend your observation skills.”

“Maybe I should be a detective too,” Akira jokes, still feeling wrong-footed by Akechi’s neverending desire to throw compliments his way. His senior laughs, eyes crinkling as his mouth widens in excitement.

“In that case, I hope we would be working together-- though having you as a rival would be exciting as well.” Akechi then glances down at his papers. “Actually, do you think you could help me on my current problem? Your insight could prove valuable.”

Probably anyone can attest that the President’s full undivided attention is an intoxicating thing. Akira quickly breaks eye contact to look up at the clock, wishing that the minute hand was a half a circle farther. Alas, only five minutes have passed. He has no excuse to say no.

Well, he is curious about what problem could stump the “detective prodigy” Goro Akechi. He nods his head, causing Akechi’s smile to widen.

“Excellent. I’m glad to have your cooperation.” Akechi slides the folder across the table. Opening the file, Akira finds a few detailed documents and receipts. “Last Saturday, a third of the Student Council funds were stolen.”

Honestly, he isn’t surprised that despite the the professional looking documentation, this is a Student Council issue, not a detective one. Akechi does appear like someone who would take even the the smallest of tasks as seriously as his career.

He thinks back to their first detention when Akechi pulled out a thick folder for his budding case against Kamoshida, one that became redundant after they changed the PE teacher’s heart. Although his friends still have their rightful reservations about Akechi --major one being he is trying to arrest them-- he is grateful that the President is not like the other corrupt adults.

Akechi continues speaking as Akira peruses the files. “This money, which we earned through our fundraising efforts and the recent social studies trip, was going to be used for the upcoming school festival. Everything was put into the council’s bank account. We would have had enough-- until I was alerted to an ATM transaction. Someone had used one of the bank cards to withdraw cash from an ATM in Asakusa at 7:02pm.”

“One of?” Akira repeats. Akechi nods and proceeds to take out a black card from his pocket.

“Correct. There are infact three bank cards that link to the council’s bank account, and this here is one of them. Myself, our treasurer, and Ms. Usami are the only ones who have it. When I had asked Ms. Usami her whereabouts on Saturday, she replied that she and her husband went to visit family in Handa for the full weekend. As you can see--” he points to a flimsy receipt, “she provided her restaurant receipt from a local diner there. As for Iiada-san, she said she went to see the opening weekend for a movie in Shinjuku with her friend and then went to a park for crepes. The receipts are also there, as well as a picture of her journal documenting the events.

“And for the sake of completeness, I was working at the precinct during that time. My timesheet has been included, as well as my call log for that day. I also lack a motive-- while it is a bit gauche to admit, I do make good money from my job and sponsorships. I would not risk my reputation and career for this paltry amount.”

It says something that Akechi's “paltry” amount is more than Akira’s monthly salary, but he tries not to think too hard on it.

“So,” Akechi leans forward, “who do you believe is the culprit?”

Akira frowns as he looks through all the evidence gathered.

“Wouldn’t the bank have cameras?”

“Of course, but they won’t share them unless this is raised as a criminal investigation. They would be a helpful tool, if the Principal hadn’t specifically stated he wanted to try and solve this “internally”. For now, we won’t involve the authorities.”

Well, the easy solution is a bust then. Akira continues perusing the documents.

“But does it have to be one of them? Couldn’t it have been stolen?”

“Since it was a large ATM transaction, yes. Our suspect would need both the card and the PIN number to complete this. And neither of them have reported their card missing.” Akira lets out a breath, thinking carefully about his next few words.

“Ms. Usami was out of town… so she could not have withdrawn the funds.”

Akechi hums in response, tilting his head but never straying away from Akira’s face.

“That is a logical deduction. Then do you believe Iiada-san is the one who did it?”

It would be so easy for Akira to say “yes” and end this odd conversation right here. But he couldn’t.

If asked, he would say that he would not accuse someone without solid evidence, and those are his genuine feelings. But another, small part of him, would attribute his decision to his sudden flare in annoyance. Did Akechi really think that one detail is all that is needed to confirm the perpetrator? Is this how the police did their work? Or is he just humoring him, thinking that this is as far as Akira could go?

Both reasons stopped any words of acceptance from leaving his mouth.

Akira shakes his head. “Not yet.”

He bites his lips as he reviews all the information he has, tracing his finger through Iiada’s journal entries.

“... how far is Shinjuku from Asakusa?” He finally asks.

“40 minutes by train, 30 minutes by car.” The other boy replies. Akira reviews the receipts. The latest one was the crepes at 6:16pm. Which means she is the only one who had the opportunity to commit this crime. He flips through the pages, but there is nothing else. This can’t be all.

He looks up at Akechi in confusion, but the President simply smiles and says nothing.

Fine, he will find the proof himself. Akira takes out his phone and searches for the treasurer’s account, relieved when he sees that she posted pictures she taken throughout the day there. He flips through them until he finds what he is looking for and turns it to Akechi triumphantly.

Akechi should not have underestimated him.

“This shows she couldn’t have done it.” Akechi looks down at the picture: the two girls are standing on a bridge with their half-eaten crepes, faces bright with happiness and pink facepaint, the water and sunset acting as a backdrop.

“How interesting. Please explain why you believe this is proof of her innocence. All of the photos were posted at 9pm, so we are unsure of when these were taken.”

“Not this one,” Akira taps the background, “It’s sunset, so it must have been around 6:50pm. Both girls are wearing the exact same clothes and face paint-- likely same day. She would not have had time to go get crepes, make it to the bank, and back on time for this photo. That means she is not the culprit.” He feels himself nearly wheezing by the end of his tirade. He doesn’t usually speak this much, and is almost afraid it may have been too much.

But when he glances through his lashes, he does not see a shred of annoyance.

Nothing about Akechi’s posture has changed, back as straight as usual, but the expression is different. If anything, he almost looks entranced. His eyes hold an excited gleam as if he just won the lottery, as if Akira personally brought him the million dollar prize. Akira has never felt so afraid and eager in his life.

“Once again, I am impressed by your capabilities. However,” Akechi gives an exagerated sigh. “--while your deductions have furthered the progression of this case, I’m afraid it has also led us to a dead end. Neither myself, Ms. Usami, nor Iiada-san could have stolen the funds. So there are no suspects left.”

That doesn’t seem right. “Is there really no one else? You said it before, all need is the card and the PIN.”

“Ah, but wouldn’t that result in one of them being an accomplice? A card can be taken and returned without the owner noticing, but the PIN is an entirely different matter.”

Akira bites his lip. Ms. Usami is his math teacher and has always seemed to be a genuine person. He doesn’t really known Iiada-san, but the name was familiar. Could she be the sister of Iiada-kun from 2-D? The student they talked to about Kaneshiro? Wait…

“You have been silent for a while now, Kurusu-kun.” Akechi says, causing Akira to blink back to reality. Akira chews on the words lodged in his mouth, unsure how to best reveal them without giving everything away.

“Before I say anything, could I ask you a question?”

“Go ahead.”

“First, what will you do when you find the culprit?”

Akechi hums as he carefully explains. “Well, it would be best if we can confront this person and have the money returned. They would be suspended for a period of time, but at least no criminal charges would be on their record. And if they can’t, well… we will have no choice but to report the amount as fraud. Then the bank will start their own investigation. Both options result in the money being returned the the Council.”

“... And what if they had a good reason why they aren’t able to return the cash?”

Akechi raises his eyebrows. “That is a very specific situation, surely you are aware how suspicious that sounds. If there is anything you know in regards to this case, then I must insist you share it with me.”

Should he? If Akira’s hunch is correct, he doesn’t want this classmate to be punished for being blackmailed. On the other hand, if Akechi doesn’t have a suspect then the police will be involved anyway and they will have access to the security cameras. And Akechi is acting as a Student Council President right now, not as a Police Detective. His willingness to wait for the money to be returned shows he is looking for a peaceful solution.

He may be Iiada’s only hope.

“I have an idea who it could be,” Akira says slowly, “but I believe they have circumstances that need to be considered. If I am right, please don’t get the police involved.”

Akechi’s eyes widen and he shifts forward. “I don’t know whether I should be more concerned about your lack of faith in our justice system or your empathy for a criminal, but I suppose I do owe you for all the help you provided. Very well, I make no promises, but I will carefully assess whether the circumstances are as unavoidable as you say.”

A small amount of anxiety leaves with his next breath. This might be the best Akira is going to get.

“Iiada-san has a younger brother. He could have stolen her card and looked through her notes to find the PIN. I overhead he is being blackmailed by the mafia.”

That last sentence grabs Akechi’s attention. Back going ramrod straight; his eyes shifts between shock and contemplation rapidly before settling onto pure determination.

“Kurusu-kun,” he says evenly, “What you have just said, or should I say admitted, is knowledge about criminal activity-- within our school no less. If you had such information, why haven’t you reported it to anyone?”

Akira shrugs, teasing with a loose strand on his blazer and unwilling to look Akechi in the eye.

“Who would I go to?” He finally says. He only meant to act like a voiceless pariah to get Akechi off his back, but the words are too heavy. Akira never did like it when his lies got too close to the truth.

Out of the corner of his vision, he sees Akechi easing his shoulders as a near inaudible sighs escapes his mouth.

“I see. I apologize if I came out as accusatory,” Akechi relents, at least managing to look somewhat contrite. “Your sentiment, while I cannot fully support, is still understandable. It appears the students’ opinion on authority has… degraded since the Phantom Thieves’ arrival. Its unfortunate to say, but they do shed light on areas the police have a much harder time of uncovering.”

He reaches across the table to place his hand onto of Akira’ trembling one. Strange, he didn’t even realize he was shaking. “But I hope I can prove to you that there are more channels for justice than other criminals. I will look into your suggestion.”

“Does that mean--” but before he can ask if the deal still stands, a catchy tune rings through the room. Akechi turns to his bag and takes out his phone, sending Akira an apologetic smile.

“I apologize, it looks like I kept you here longer than necessary.” Akira turns towards the clock, startling when he sees that 40 minutes have already passed.

Akechi takes his belongings, gets up, and makes his way to Akira’s side of the table, his body casting shadows over his face. His pleasant demeanour is back in full force like it never left, a whiplash of emotions cutting through the serious atmosphere.

“Next time I will reduce your detention by five minutes to make up for this. You earned it with your unique insight on this case. I truly appreciate your help,” He says, holding out his hand. Similar to their first meeting on Akira’s first day, but this time it felt like the gesture took an entire different meaning. Akira stands up and grasps it, the grip tighter than he remembered.

(And much closer than he remembered.)

“I hope I can lean on you again in the future, Kusuru-kun.”

At night, Akira thinks back to their conversation. Did Akechi really not think about any other suspects? That seems way to close minded for a detective; the culprit being someone no one initially considered is an entire trope in of itself. Not to mention the decrease in work which coincidentally led to him having nothing else to do… Was all of this a test? If so, for what end?

Akira groans, tossing in his bed as Morgana yowls at him to go to sleep.

Maybe Akechi is more dangerous than he thought.

“Here is your calming oolong, Master~ <3 If there is anything else you need I am at your service!” Akira chirps with a wink and a curtsy. As usual the customer is instantly charmed, making him smile inwardly.

He understands the appeal of DnD now. Roleplay is a great way of dissociating from life’s troubles.

Nothing has been done on the pretty boy detective front, other than Akira being careful not to break any other rules and avoiding certain areas and brown haired students like the plague. So far operation “run from your problems” has been working great.

Even if he wouldn’t mind talking to the President again, this is for the best. The maid life is exciting enough; no need to add a nuclear bomb when he is already playing with fire.

“Wait a moment, sir!” Satsuki’s panicked cry breaks through his satisfaction. He turns towards her as an unruly customer shoves her off. Tilting his head, Akira startles as he catches a familiar pair of maroon eyes.

There stood Goro Akechi in all his glory.

He is very underdressed compared to his usual attire: loose jeans, a hoodie, fake glasses, and a baseball cap.

His toned down disguise does nothing to actually hide his identity, Akira’s own is way more thorough than Akechi’s.

And yet, locking onto his face, he is certain that they have matching expressions of recognition.

Oh no.

“Kuru—“

“Woah, Master, you are so passionate! But please don’t be so mean to the other maids. It’s not their fault they don’t have a cute master like mine!”

Satsuki walks towards them, rubbing at her arm. She stops between them, slightly angling her body to shield Akira. Bless her kind heart.

“Oh, he’s one of yours, Ren-chan? Do you need any help from the butlers?” She asks, looking at him carefully. It was a question asking if he needed security.

Akira shakes his head. He really doesn’t want to make a bigger scene than it already is.

He gently grabs Akechi’s arm and leads him to a nearby table, pulling out a chair for his senior to sit in. Thankfully, Akechi is too dazed to put up much of a fuss. In fact, he is so shocked he hasn’t said anything since he almost blurted out Akira’s real name. All he has done so far is stare at Akira as if in a trance. Really odd considering how talkative he usually is.

Akira bends down to pretend he is arranging the tableware. When he is close enough to whisper without anyone hearing, he drops his high-pitched tone to hiss in Akechi’s ear.

“My shift ends in an hour; we can talk then. Don’t mention anything about me.”

Straightening up, the Ren-chan mask is back on.

“I hope everything is to your liking, Master! Let me bring you some complimentary tea. Ren-chan is at your service!”

Akira leaves the table to grab a teapot from kitchen, working completely on autopilot as he is internally having a breakdown.

Why the hell is Akechi at his maid cafe?!?

He thought for sure this place was too degenerate for a teen celebrity to even consider walking in. And yet here he was, AND he instantly recognized Akira.

Everything was going so well. He was able to afford food and all the equipment upgrades for his team. They were blasting through Kaneshiro’s palace and turned the Vice-President of the student council from a bad stalker to a reliable teammate. Mona was still unaware of his side job and he was only a week off from buying Chihaya’s lucky stone.

But all of his hard work was crumbling before his eyes. The bomb had landed and threatened to take his entire life with it.

Akira takes a deep breath to try and steady his nerves.

He needs to calm down. Maybe Akechi only assigned him detention to spy on him, but that doesn’t mean everything was fake. Perhaps it is his own ego talking, but he did feel like Akechi enjoyed their time together and was thankful for the information he provided.

He could talk to him and come to an agreement. It is not game over yet.

Thoughts whirling, the rest of the shift passed in a breeze, discounting Akechi himself.

Akechi ordered a coffee and nothing more, but he spent the entire wait staring holes at Akira’s back. His dark gaze was heavier than a physical brand, causing Akira to feel like prey being watched by a predator.

Akechi always had a few odd social quirks, nothing that couldn’t be explained by teenage awkwardness and a lonely childhood (Akira would know). But this was a whole new level of unnerving.

Honestly, it was a bit exciting. It would be a lot more fun if this was role play rather than his actual career on the line.

‘Breathe,’ Akira tells himself as he waits other tables. ‘You have to pull this off. For everyone.’

At last his shift is over and he motions for Akechi to wait for him outside near the alley. None of his other coworkers are in the change room, so he decides to quickly redress into his casual clothes.

As nice as being Ren-chan is, it didn’t feel like the right attitude for this conversation. Joker would be best, but that isn’t who he is out here. In the real world, he is just Akira, someone with no powers or societal support. Can’t stylishly shoot his way out of this problem.

Exiting the building, Akira quickly find Akechi leaning against the alley’s wall. Cars and the crowd’s conversations faded into the the background, making it feel like a world separate from everyone else. Focusing on the only other person, he observes that Akechi’s honed-in predator look disappeared as he too donned his day to day mask. His heart rate skyrockets.

“Took you a while, Kurusu-kun. Or do you prefer Ren-chan?”

“I would prefer getting to the point.” Despite his best efforts, Akira let more hostility than he would have liked seep into his words. The anxiety is causing his hands to slightly twitch, too much tension running through his bloodstream. And Akechi’s teasing despite the seriousness of the topic is riling him up.

Akechi mouth twitches upwards, latching onto his haywire emotions like a shark to blood. This is probably the reaction he desired.

“Now now, I don’t believe we have to start off so contentious.” He pushes himself back up, casually walking to stand face to face. Unwilling to show weakness, Akira stays rooted to his spot.

They are nearly identical in height, but Akechi does have the slight advantage and Akira’s tendency to shrink into himself hasn’t done any favours for his posture. For the first time, Akira wishes he practiced standing tall, because he does not like looking up at his opponent’s eyes.

Under the dim lighting, they almost appear a glowing red.

“Shujin students aren’t allowed to work in sexual jobs or areas adjacent, which includes maid cafes. I believe this is a rule you are aware of. After all, it is considered far more serious than trespassing the rooftop.” Akechi says, a smirk playing on his lips.

It would do no good to play dumb here. Akira nods. A hint of fangs peek through at Akechi’s growing grin, closer to a leer than anything. Nothing about him seems pleasant right now. It feels like Akira is finally seeing what is hidden behind that detective prince mask.

“Then tell me why I shouldn’t inform our principal about your questionable work?” Akechi simmers as he places on his hand against the wall near Akira’s head. An intimidation tactic surely, but one he won’t fold over. Akechi hates weakness, it would do no good to show any now.

“Because you haven’t,” Akira says. “If all you wanted was to get me expelled, you would not have stayed. You didn’t. You are here, so there is something you want.”

Akechi doesn’t seem fazed by the defiance. “So confident. What if I wanted to ensure a confession?”

“Really?” Akira huffs, placing his hands in his pockets and glaring at him. “You are the Student Council President and a celebrity detective, and I am the transferee with a criminal record. You wouldn’t need evidence, much less a confession, to expel me.”

Akechi hums as if he isn’t aware of their difference in positions.

“You are right once again, Kurusu-kun.” Akira tilts his head in confusion.

“Again?” He asks.

“Yes, about how I don’t need evidence to expel you, and how I do want something from you.” Akira gulps, his previous bravado slowly being chipped away at the possibilities of Akechi’s demand. What could he possibly ask that he couldn’t before? Is it something demeaning? Something that will trap him in a fate worse than expulsion?

It is at this moment he realizes they are so close that their breaths mingle. He can’t help but notice that Akechi still smells of the coffee he ordered, overlaying with the pine cologne that radiates off his skin. There is a slight flush to his cheeks which Akira wants to attribute solely to the warm air, unwilling to acknowledge another reason on his own.

As if also suddenly aware of their distance, Akechi stops his looming and leans back, manic energy dissipating in the summer heat.

His face is so bright it is blinding.

“I want you to become my assistant.”

Akira lets his arms drop dumbly. He blinks once. Then twice.

“... What?”

“I want you to become my assistant,” Akechi repeats. “To help me with any work I ask of you. We will meet three times a week after school: Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. Of course this will be mainly Student Council work and not my police work. As you know, earning the security clearance to access our information is quite the hassle.”

Akira feels as if the world is being thrown off kilter, as if someone dumped him into a whole different reality where the sky is green and cats bark. Nothing is making any sense. Why would Akechi want a no-good delinquent to work under him?

Akira doesn’t have the capacity to do more than open and close his mouth like a beached fish. Akechi seems to take that as confirmation anyway.

“I look forward to seeing you tomorrow. Don’t be late.” Akechi cheerily waves and turns back to join the crowded streets. Waiting a bit till he is completely out of sight, Akira sags against the wall, groaning as he realizes what he has been forced into.

It official. Akira may have fought demons and egomanicas, but he could NOT handle Goro Akechi.

Chapter Text

“You WHAT?”

Akira winces at Morgana’s high pitched yowl. He knew his friend wouldn’t take the news well, but it doesn’t help the shame he feels from the pure sound of disapproval.

Morgana sits on Akira’s desk, tail whipping the bare surface violently. The accumulated dust from the many days he has spent not cleaning his room burst through the air, making it even harder to look at Mona's disappointed face without tears welling up.

He watches Akira with reproach, silently waiting for an explanation before he decides to tear into him. The patience to not immediately attack him is something Akira can appreciate.

So after the disaster of meeting Akechi that evening, Akira knew he needed to tell Morgana why he will be with Akechi after school three times a week even though he is already drowning in work.

Obviously he couldn’t say ‘So I have been hiding how I have been working at a Maid Cafe for the past month and he found me out and is now blackmailing me,’ so he needed to improvise. Explaining that he is joining willingly is certainly a lot easier to swallow than the actual truth, but it would still take a bit to get Mona to accept it.

“It’s for intel. Akechi is investigating the Phantom Thieves. If I can get close with him, I can learn about their plans.”

Morgana’s ears lower as he frowns. “I don’t know about that… He seems like a smart guy, trying to get close could be risky. He could arrest you.” Akira knows that and wishes he could openly agree with him.

“Maybe I’m into that.” He says instead because he does not have good coping mechanisms. Mona does not seem impressed.

“Akira…” Morgana groans. Akira puts his hands up in surrender before he loses them.

“Why don’t you get Makoto to do it?”

He raises his finger, “First, she hates him about as much as Ryuji does.” He then raises another. “And second, do you remember her sleuthing skills?”

Morgana balks as he is no doubt thinking back to the girl trailing after them with an upside down magazine, not even bothering to find a location out of their sight. Still, he flicks nervously between Akira and the ground, not fully placated.

Akira feels awful causing their navigator so much stress, but he doesn’t want Mona involved in his problems. If all Akechi wants is an assistant, then he will gladly play that role in exchange for staying at Shujin. Being expelled would mean a one-way ticket to a detention centre, and he couldn’t exactly continue his phantom thieving business from a cell.

Petting between Mona’s ears, just where he knows he likes but doesn’t want to admit, Akira continues reassuring his now purring friend.

“It will just be for a few months. Plus, he is a sushi connoisseur. I could get some high quality fatty tuna.”

“Mrrr-- Hey! Don’t think you can bribe me with sushi! I’m not that easy!” Morgana shouts as a slight bit of drool escapes his mouth. He quickly notices and wipes it away with his paw, coughing in an attempt to regain his composure.

“But I will trust your judgement for now. You have been scarily good at finding useful confidants.” If Morgana notices the slight stuttering of Akira’s pets, he doesn’t mention it.

In the back of his mind, Akira can’t help but repeat Mona’s words. Confidant? Could Akechi become that, someone trustworthy and reliable?

“Just…” Mona’s uncharacteristically tentative voice snaps Akira out of his thoughts as he looks down at his cautious friend’s expression. “Be careful, okay?”

Akira offers him a grateful smile. Honestly, he is so lucky to have people who care about him. It makes him all the more determined to not let them down.

“I will.”

Thankfully, Mona treated this much like his other hangouts, leaving him alone for the day to prowl around the neighbourhood. It does remove some weight off of Akira’s shoulders knowing that he doesn’t have to fear his friend getting within earshot of them and Akechi spilling the beans. However, he really should have considered that the others would be an issue as well.

“Akira? What are you doing here?” Makoto, their newest Phantom Thief member, asks when he steps into the Student Council room. Her brows are furrowed in concern and one hand is set on her hip, looking like the ever imposing vice president.

“Was there something you needed to ask me? If so, could you wait until this evening? There is a Student Council meeting going on right now.”

Before Akira can even get a word out, a hand lands on his shoulders-- a line of heat crossing his back as he is brought closer to the person behind him. He stiffens at the faint scent of pine that reaches his nose, matching the cologne he smelled just a day prior. “Actually, he is here with me. I would introduce our newest secretary, but it appears you two are already well acquainted.”

“Newest secretary?!” Doing her best Mona impression, Makoto looks at Akira critically as he steadfastly stares off to the side. If Akira pretends he isn’t here, maybe she will let this go.

Seeing as the hostage himself wasn’t giving any answers, she turns her glare back to the perpetrator instead. “I wasn’t aware we needed another secretary.”

Akechi does his best television laugh, not at all affected by her glowering. “It is actually an idea I thought of recently. With exams and the school festival coming so soon, an extra pair of hands would greatly improve our efficiency. Kurusu and I have gotten rather close, so I knew he would be perfect for the job. I am ever grateful he agreed to my request.”

Internally, Akira wants to cry. Although he is glad Akechi isn’t revealing their actual deal, now Makoto’s judgement falls back on him. He knows he couldn’t keep their arrangement a secret forever, he just hoped he would have a bit more time before having the rest of the team were privy to it.

Seeing as she is waiting impatiently for Akira to respond, he decides to bite the bullet and prepare himself for hellfire later.

“Yeah,” He says, trying his best to appear casual as he puts his lands into his pocket and slouches a little from the distracting touch. “I wanted to join.”

Makoto opens her mouth to undoubtedly reprimand him, but after taking a quick glance at the still smiling President, she ultimately closes it with a glower. As expected of their tactician; she is smart enough not to insinuate Phantom Thief business while in the presence of an attentive detective.

Sighing, she simply sends him a weary look. “Alright, we can talk about this later.”

More members are making their way inside the room with not so inconspicuous glances sent at their standing leaders and the random student in the middle. Makoto decides to take a seat before everyone starts openly staring, still looking put-out but more collected than before. Akechi tugs at Akira’s arm and leads him to a seat right next to him.

After introducing who Akira is and his first task of documenting the meeting minutes, the meeting is underway. It starts off with basic status updates as the various members show what they had completed since last week. Akira focuses completely on taking notes and doesn’t react to what is being said until the section of announcements occurs.

Akechi informs everyone that unfortunately the budget will not be recovered, so the committee will need to take on more DIY assignments to make up for it. Everyone groans at that except Akira. He is too busy wondering what that means.

Was Iiada-kun not the culprit? Or did Akechi keep his end of the bargain? Unfortunately now is not the time to ask, so he files that question for later and keeps doing his job.

An hour passes by without incident. As the members are getting ready to head out, he sees Makoto make her way towards him.

“Akira we should--” She starts, reaching out a hand. But before she can usher him away, he is tugged in the opposite direction. It is no surprise who it is.

“I’m sorry Nijima-san, but I’m afraid Kurusu and I have to get started on our work now for the School Festival. I understand things are stressful for us third years, but do try to stay attentive during our meetings.” Akechi says, his polite tone failing to mask the condescension in his voice. Makoto looks flabbergasted at the blatant insult.

However, before she can respond, he grabs Akira’s arm and leads them out the door.

Only one thought is currently occupying Akira’s mind, something he never paid attention to before.

Since when did Akechi stop using honorifics with him?

“Did you have to do that?”

Akira has thankfully regained use of his other mental facilities and decides to ask the more pressing question than his personal one. Akechi hums absentmindedly as he drags Akira through the halls. “Hmm? You will have to be more specific, Kurusu.”

Both of them know that he isn’t dumb enough to not understand Akira's question.

“You know,” he tries to explain it in aroundabout, polite way that pretentious people seem to always prefer. “Your weird feud with Makoto.” And he fails it miserably.

Akechi doesn’t turn back to him, but there is an odd tension in his voice. “While I do admit that Nijima-san and I disagree on certain topics, I wasn’t aware we had a ‘feud’. I am curious where you heard about this.”

“Just rumors”, Akira mumbles, regretting his current life decisions. They finally step into the school yard and out into the open, but Akechi doesn’t halt his stride in the slightest.

Despite them being in a public area and the oddness of a celebrity pulling a nobody, he feels the grip on his arm tighten. “Really? I thought perhaps Nijima-san spoke to you about it. You two seemed rather familiar with one another. It’s quite a surprise-- you two are in different years.”

Sweat trickles down Akira’s back, and he knows that it is not due to the outside heat.

This isn’t good; this might be a ploy to find out if they are connected to the Phantom Thieves. He doesn’t know how his and Makoto’s friendship could lead to that conclusion, but he doesn’t want to find out.

“She helped me and my friends with some course work,” he says, trying his best to sidestep past the Detective’s suspicion.

“She must be rather free if she is going out of her way to tutor under-years she previously never spoken to. I’m glad to know I can rely on her more for the upcoming festival.”

Shit.

“It was just one time before the exams.”

“And exams are a busy time, so that only further proves my point.”

“She mostly spent the time reviewing her own notes.”

“I cannot imagine it would be very productive to do so with second years. I truly envy her freedom.”

At first Akira only had an inkling, but now he knows for certain: Akechi is determined to offload his work to Makoto for no apparent reason, or at least, not a valid one. Why else would he continuously try to pin her as someone who should take on more from Akira’s simple comment? Anger courses through his veins. No way is he going to let Akechi harm his teammate due to a slip of his own tongue.

Digging his heels into the ground, Akira forcibly stops Akechi’s relentless stride and throws off his tight hold. The older boy turns back, raising an eyebrow as if questioning Akira’s audacity to not be dragged along like a dog.

“You brought me here for work, didn’t you? Then whatever you need, ask me. She has enough on her plate.” Akira speaks coldly, tilting his head to meet Akechi’s gaze. He can briefly see a flash of anger in those irises, but Akira has faced scarier in both the metaverse and the real world.

Seeing that his assistant isn’t going to back down, Akechi closes off his expression, faces away, and continues walking forward.

“Your loyalty to others is remarkable, Kurusu,” he says curtly. “Then I hope you are prepared for the work ahead.”

If Akira didn’t know better, he could imagine the President’s lips curling in distaste. It's hard to believe he would feel so disdainful just from having his petty agenda foiled.

Ryuji was right. Goro Akechi is an asshole.

The tension slowly dissipates as they walk to the station. Akechi explains that they will need to head to the stationary store in Kichijoji for poster making supplies. Given Akira’s god awful sense of direction, which he blames solely on the endless maze the Tokyo residents dare call their subway system, he lets Akechi lead them to their destination.

Akira can’t help but feel amazed when he steps out onto the street. While the heart of Tokyo is dreary in its dirty streets and identical skyscrapers, Kichijoji seems to breathe life back into the city. Cute individual stalls litter the sides of buildings and colourful signs signal the various stores free for the public to browse. It looks like such an exciting place to get lost in.

“It’s rather amazing, isn’t it?” Akechi asks, somehow able to decipher Akira’s excitement from his blank staring. There would be no point in denying it, so he responds with an easy “yeah”.

“It’s one of my favourite places,” His features soften as he gazes at the scenery, something Akira had no idea the President was even capable of.

But the moment of camaraderie is short lived as the bustling crowds don’t take well to the two still roadblocks. After the second angry muttering of a passerby, they decide to follow the flow to their destination.

The two of them eventually find the store and began browsing the selection. Although Akira does have the general list, there are a lot of options in terms of the style of the poster and quality of the product. Before long, he finds himself bickering with his companion on what to get.

“The ten black pen packs would be the best for the lettering.”

“That would be rather boring, President.”

“Really? Then what would you suggest?”

“Red, it will stand out more.”

“That would clash with the poster board colours-- we would need to drastically limit the options. Do you truly believe the other clubs would accept such a situation?”

It’s dumb to be getting into a fierce debate over the colours of the pens, but Akira can’t help but enjoy it.

Akechi is quick with his retorts, and he never lets Akira get away with being complacent. Each of them are fighting to prove their opinion, wins and losses distributed rather evenly. But it never verges on too serious. In fact, Akira feels that Akechi lights up with every counter argument.

It's like they are two normal kids. He can’t remember the last time he didn’t have phantom thief business on his mind. However, that whimsical bubble pops when a shrill voice interrupts Akira as he is explaining why they should spend a few extra yen on star tape.

“Wait, isn’t that Akechi-kun?” A young teenage girl loudly whispers as she stops to shakes her friend’s arm. Now that she got the other girl's attention, both of them are pointing and talking behind their hands.

“No way, really? Isn’t he on the TV all the time nowadays?”

“Yeah he is, do you think we can get his autograph?”

At their heated discussion on whether to approach, Akechi’s grin briefly falls. He lowers his head, a rare show of him wanting to hide.

“Uh oh, looks like I have been spotted.”

Akira frowns at Akechi’s downtrodden appearance. Personally, he would hate it if he couldn’t walk outside without worrying about strangers coming up to him and asking for photos and autographs. Since Akechi chose to be a celebrity, Akira thought it may be different for him, that he was someone who enjoyed the attention and adoration. There are certainly a lot of people who envy him for his popularity.

But Akechi's resigned face tells a completely different story.

Akira steps closer and keeps his voice low enough to avoid eavesdroppers. “Are you okay? I can scare them off.”

“Oh, it's fine. I’m used to it.” Akechi immediately tries to brush it off, plastering back on a friendly facade. “I am just afraid I will cause the store trouble.”

Taking another glance behind him, Akira nearly balks at the small crowd starting to form. It appears the girls’ initial excitement has caused others to see what the fuss is about. Akechi notices as well, a rueful smile on his face.

“Time is up. As much as I would like to relax a little longer, I should go now.”

“But you shouldn’t have to.” Akira presses, feeling indignant on Akechi’s behalf. Sure the guy is a blackmailing dick, but he doesn’t deserve to be run out of a shop.

“Sorry, but it would be best for me to leave. I would only be causing trouble for the store if I stayed,” Akechi says and then puts his hand to his chin thoughtfully. “A shame I didn’t bring my casual clothes, then maybe I would be able to get out of this situation.”

Akira surveys the surrounding area, lighting up when he finds what he is looking for. He turns to the President who frowns warily at Akira’s sudden bright mood.

“Let’s test that out then.” Akira whispers, feeling his own mouth pulling upwards into a Joker grin. He turns back to the crowd, waiting for a few people to pass by and block the curious people’s vision. As soon as he feels they are in the clear, he gets up and grabs Akechi’s wrist.

“Huh? Hey what are you--!?” The boy protests at the sudden manhandling, but Akira is too focused on their destination to answer him. He weaves through the crowds, pulling along a confused Akechi into a nearby clothing store.

Grabbing some clothes off the racks and taking off his own glasses, he shoves them into Akechi’s arms and pushes him into a change room.

“Come out when you are done.” He says, closing the curtain on his still shocked senior.

If this works, this may be his greatest heist yet.

As Akira waits for him to get changed, he goes to the register and figures that he should probably pay if he is forcing Akechi into random clothes. Thankfully this is a second-hand store, so it doesn’t break his budget to do so. The joys of having more than a few hundred yen.

The cashier is just about finished as Akechi steps out into the open, a twitchy smile on his face.

“Aha, you certainly have interesting tastes, Kurusu. Though, from your writing utensil suggestions, perhaps I shouldn’t be surprised.”

This time Akira can’t help it, the silent laughter expels without his permission. He tries his best to cover it with his hand, but considering how Akechi’s twitching only gets more violent, he knows he is failing miserably.

Now the Detective Prince is gone. In his place is an indignant looking boy wearing white pants, a red sweater covered by a huge gold star, and a black hat that says HERO in golden letters to match. Akira’s glasses do not really fit the hipster-rock vibe of the outfit, but they do help in completely changing his appearance. Which is great, because if this doesn’t work, Akechi may kill him and hide his body for letting people see him in this. Though judging by his expression, he may have already decided to do so.

After a few aborted breaths, Akira obtains enough composure to respond.

“Well, it does work in hiding your identity.”

Akechi presses his lips together, hands clenching so tightly into fists the creases turn white. “And I am sure your entertainment is only a side benefit. If this is an attempt to humiliate me--,”

“Hey, woah, not at all.” Akira quickly interjects before Akechi can come up with worse conclusions. Stepping forward to gently pull Akechi’s hands, he helps loosen their grip.

Before his mother got so busy, she would do the same to soothe Akira's own frustrations. “I’m sorry for laughing, I was just surprised. You look more like a normal teenager now than some poster boy for role model students. It's good-- you look good.”

Out of the corner of his eyes, he sees the tension leave Akechi’s shoulders. He doesn’t know what Akechi is worried about. It would be impossible for him to look bad even if Akira dressed him in a garbage bag and crocs. This guy clearly worked too hard on his appearance to have something as simple as clothing ruin it.

As he focuses on ensuring Akechi’s nails haven’t left any lasting damage, the boy is quiet.

“... I see.” He finally says in a tone Akira can’t quite decipher. “Still, I should be more careful what I say around you. You have a tendency to act in ways I don’t expect.”

“It wouldn’t be fun if I didn’t, Detective.”

Akira looks up, sure his own expression of amusement is mimicking Akechi’s reluctant one. Perhaps murder is off the table now. However, he realizes his hands are about to get sweaty from how long they have been standing hand-in-hand like this. He immediately drops them, steps back, and twirls a lock of hair, a bit bashful at his awkward gesture.

“So… are you good with the outfit?”

“I suppose it does do the job,” Akechi concedes, he then frowns and takes off the glasses, looking carefully at them through different angles. He glances between them and Akira.

“These lenses are not prescription. Why on earth would you wear them?”

Akira shrugs. “They make me look smarter.” Akechi narrows his eyes, his gaze seemingly cutting through Akira’s bullshit.

“... You are rather secretive when it comes to certain topics,” Akechi says. Akira blinks in surprise. No one has ever called him out on a bold faced lie. At least, not with them being right.

Akechi puts a hand on his hip. “How about this then: you can ask me a question in exchange. If we both agree to answer, then we must tell the truth.”

Akira thinks carefully if this is worth it. Sure he doesn’t enjoy rambling, but this could be a way of getting closer to the Detective. It would be a small price for exposing a bit of himself.

“Alright, deal.” While he would like to confirm Iiada-kun's fate, he knows he can find out from other sources later on. He decides to jump straight into what he most wanted to ask the President himself. “Why were you in the cafe yesterday? And in that disguise?”

“That would be two questions, but I am willing to let it slide for today.” Akechi lets out a sigh, adjusting the sleeve of his new sweater. “The truth is, coming there wasn’t an independent decision. I am not someone who derives pleasure from seeing girls in skimpy uniforms acting solely for perverse men’s pleasure. My coworkers gave me a ticket to your ah-- establishment, in order to, and I quote on quote ‘stop being so uptight and live a little’. And so I had to attend.”

“But why?” Akira asks, confused as to why Akechi would give in to such childish peer pressure. He shows a rueful smile in response.

“When you are in the workforce, your ability to socialize with your coworkers is one of the greatest skills to have, more than any sort of competence or diligence.” That last part was spat out with some bitterness, but Akira wasn’t sure if Akechi noticed.

“As you can probably surmise, my relative age and lack of connections means that I must work harder than others on that front. I couldn’t very well decline if I wanted to maintain my workplace relationships. Unfortunately, they were adamant that I speak to them about my experience afterwards, so I had to gain accurate information to prove I had done so. This complicated things, as my reputation as Student Council President would be marred if another student saw me walk in. A disguise was necessary, and it worked nearly perfectly.”

He said most of this without any change in tone, and that made it sadder. The adult world, unsurprisingly, was awful. Not only were Akechi’s coworkers insulting his attitude, but they were also pressuring him to go to places that could tarnish other important aspects of his life. More and more, Akira was learning the difficulties of being a celebrity and a kid in a place where both of these identities aren’t welcomed.

“That sounds exhausting. Your life is quite hard.”

Akechi chuckles, but it doesn’t sound genuine. “Oh, I must have been complaining a lot today. I don’t usually do so, you are quite a good listener.”

Shrugging, Akira puts his hands in his pocket, not willing to fully accept the compliment. As he has learned, this is how Akechi tends to force the conversation back on the other person, a different way of avoidance than lying.

Originally, he concluded they were complete opposites. One a star student beloved by all, another trash discarded by everyone: friends, teachers, and even parents. It was even easier to dismiss Akechi as a cocky asshole given his recent actions, but maybe they were more alike than he thought-- just two teenagers struggling with the pressures society placed on them.

And the fact Akechi has been managing this with a smile on face shows his strength of character more than anything.

“I do believe I fully answered your questions now.” Akechi says, looking at Akira expectantly. Right, he did promise a truth for a truth.

His full attention isn’t any less overwhelming than before, making Akira wish he hadn’t given him his glasses. He tugs on a fringe of hair nervously.

“It's to, well… blend in. I thought if no one noticed me, fewer people would react to the ‘scary delinquent’. My eyes… I-- I was told they are too intimidating,” He says, stuttering slightly at the confession.

No one has ever tried so hard to pry answers after he dodges their questions. No one until Akechi it seems.

It was weird to be talking rather than listening, an ability he has left untouched for years. And yet, a part of it also felt freeing, as if he finally released a small load off his back. He wasn’t likely to start talking everyone’s ears off, but small admissions to someone who already saw parts he wanted to hide didn’t sound so bad.

“Truly? That’s a shame.” Akechi suddenly leans into Akira's personal space, studying his face intently. “I think your eyes are one of your best features.”

If someone told him that the roof of the shop was instantly transformed into a magnifying glass to blast the occupants with the full, concentrated heat of the sun, Akira may have believed them. His face certainly feels much hotter than before. All the blood must have drained from his brain to his cheeks, because his next words did not include any thinking.

“Thanks, yours are too.” Akechi better decide if he still wants to kill him, because Akira is going to take that choice away very soon by jumping off the nearest cliff.

This close, he can witness the slight widening of Akechi’s eyes and parting of his lips. It takes a second for him to compute, but once he does, he is blushing just as hard.

He jumps back, turning away and coughing slightly into his hand. At the same time, Akira focuses on calming his own racing heart and willing his face to cool down. ‘Think about Kamoshida in a speedo,’ he wills himself to imagine; there is nothing more disgusting than that.

“Ahaha, thank you. You have a way of surprising me.” Akechi says, still glancing to his side as if the sight of Akira’s face would burn off any of his remaining cool. Not that Akira feels much better, but it looks like he would have to step up in this situation.

Desiring to get back to their friendly atmosphere, Akira checks his shoulder and turns around, gesturing for Akechi to follow him.

“Come on, let's get back to proving why the star tape is worth it.”

He hears a huff of laughter behind him and then a set of footsteps catching up. No one cares when Akira makes it out onto the street, and even when Akechi follows this doesn’t change.

It wasn’t a bad day at all.

Chapter Text

“Three cheers to us, the Phantom Thieves!” Ryuji yells, holding his cup of soda high in the air. Everyone screams “kanpai” in unison, clinking their glasses together before taking a large gulp. Morgana, who doesn’t have his own drink on account of having paws, nevertheless joins enthusiastically with the cheers.

All of the Phantom Thieves are partying at Ann’s home, celebrating their successful heist of Kaneshiro’s heart. Luckily her parents are away for work, so they don’t have to worry about keeping their voices down. In no time everyone begins digging into the food spread across the table, the balanced mix of meats and veggies and carbs chosen by their newest member.

It became a tradition for the team to have a dinner party commemorating a palace clear. After Kamoshida, Ann and Ryuji wanted to go somewhere expensive like a fancy all-you-can-eat buffet, nearly sending Akira into cardiac arrest.

Morgana saved Akira a trip to the hospital by convincing them that they couldn’t properly celebrate if they were out in public and had to watch their every word. Thus, they agreed to hold a private party at Ann’s apartment and order all their favourite foods. The combination of ramen and sweets was heavy, but everyone enjoyed themselves so they decided to do the same in the future.

Smiling at the scene, Akira piles pieces of fish onto Morgana’s platter before filling up his own. It's much more lively now that their little quartet has gained two new members, but both Yusuke and Makoto fit so seamlessly into the group it’s like they were here from the start. Speaking of their newest additions, Akira looks over and sees Makoto’s face is scrunched up in concern as she watches Yusuke scarf down the mountain of food on his plate.

“... Are you sure you should be eating so fast? There is more than enough for everyone, and you will give yourself a stomach ache at this rate.”

Yusuke looks up, blinking at her question. “Ah, thank you for the warning. I had forgotten that gorging can lead to future stomach pains. It's been a while since I had the opportunity for dinner.” That last remark has Akira knitting his brows.

“Have you run out of money?” He asks, concerned that the allowance he had given for Yusuke’s meals this past month was inadequate.

“Please don’t worry, my friend.” Yusuke replies, perceptive in his unique way. “Your generosity is more than enough for my monthly expenses. Alas, this week I had to forsake my evening meals for greater pursuits! I have found the most wonderful specimen during my school trip, and I couldn’t simply leave such inspiration without taking its likeness back and capturing it on paper.”

“Erm, and what exactly was this ‘specimen’?” Mona asks. By now the rest of the team have turned towards them, listening in on their conversation.

“It's none other than Claudia,” Yusuke nods seriously. The rest of the thieves exchange confused glances.

“Who’s Claudia…?” Makoto bravely asks.

Yusuke clutches his heart and gasps. “She is none other than the only royal blue lobster residing in the Tokyo Aquarium! When I saw her living freely in her tank, I knew she would make a magnificent model for my next art piece. Alas, no matter how much I pleaded, the workers would not let me borrow her to study. I was left with no other choice but to purchase a five foot recreation of her from the gift shop.”

After that reveal, Ryuji slumps down on the table and groans. “For real? How did you even manage to spend a week’s worth of yen on that thing? And why the hell did you even visit the aquarium? Don’t tell me you had a date there.”

“I was told it was our social studies trip. And the quality was well worth the price. This piece will be submitted as my reflection for the trip so others may appreciate its splendor.”

“If you say so…” Ryuji trails off, shaking his head. Ann jabs him with her elbow, causing him to shoot back up and squawk.

“Hey, at least he got to enjoy his trip. Unlike us who had to go to the water filtration plant, because SOMEONE forgot to put our names down for the TV station.”

“C’mon, I said I was sorry!”

“Sorry is not enough for putting us through the most boring tour in Tokyo.”

“Not like the station would have been any better,” Ryuji grumbles. “You heard what everyone has been saying: they just worked them like mules and then made them listen to our smarmy school president. Don’t you think we get enough of him during the day?”

“Yes,” Makoto says, swiveling her head to stare dead on at Akira. “Some of us do get more than enough of him.” Akira casts his eyes down at his food, his chopsticks pushing the rice from side to side.

“Uhhh,” Ann says, catching onto the weird tension in the air. Makoto sighs, a brief softening of her features.

“I’m sorry, Akira, but this affects everyone and we need to discuss this.” She straightens her shoulders and addresses the rest of the group. “Akira recently joined the Student Council and became Akechi’s secretary.”

“No way! / Are you serious!? / What an interesting unification…” came the responses. At this point Akira should be used to his friends’ disapproval (and strange remark) at his decision, but that doesn’t stop his wince at their loud voices.

“It’s only for information…” He mumbles, but the protests don’t die.

“Bro, no information is worth dealing with that guy.”

“And isn’t this, like, super dangerous? What if you slip up and get caught? Right, Yusuke?”

“Hmm? Would declining the position now make a difference? And the sheer artistic brilliance of their images…”

Well this sounds (sort of) familiar.

Akira shakes his head. “He is already onto us since we were the primary victims of Kamoshida. At least now he is focused on me instead of the rest of the team.” He starts thinking back to their shopping trip, how the President passionately defended high quality pens and seemed excited to hear Akira’s opinion on homemade stencils. “… And Akechi isn’t so bad.”

Ryuji’s mouth drops open so wide he could catch Kaneshiro’s shadow form. It's hard to look at, so Akira sneaks a glance at Ann but instantly regrets it when he is face to face with her sparkling expression. It is so bright, he can almost see stars in her eyes.

“Oh! Akechi was the one who wanted to supervise your detention, right? Did you guys talk a lot? Did he ask to spend more time together afterwards? Is he complimenting you? Are you two texting and meeting up after school now?” At every word she leans in closer, causing Akira to feel overwhelmed by both her many questions and physical proximity.

“Yes…?”

That seems to be the right answer, because she squeals and pats his shoulder. Hard. He thinks he hears his bones crack from the force of her excitement.

“The initial getting to know each other stage is so exciting! I remember the butterflies I got when I first became friends with Shiho…” She rests her head on her hand and sighs dreamily. “We created memories I cherish to this day. Don’t worry, I know things are a bit rough because of the whole ‘detective trying to catch us’ thing, but I want you to know that you should do whatever makes you happy.”

Meanwhile, Ryuji looks back and forth between them like a lost puppy, perfectly encapsulating Akira's current thoughts. “What are you going on about? Friends? With Akechi???” She groans, joyful mood shattering.

“Forget it, you wouldn’t understand a maiden’s heart.”

“Why would I need to be a girl to understand your nonsense?!?”

“Wouldn’t be nonsense if you could catch a hint, Ryuji!”

A sudden loud clap stops the bickering high-schoolers. They turn to the annoyed-looking source sheepishly. “Alright, settle down. We are getting off track here,” Makoto says. “We heard Ann and Yusuke’s… consent, but Ryuji, you still disagree, correct?” Ryuji grimaces and turns towards Akira with concern.

“I get that you want to help us out… but are you really okay doing it? Dunno, feels wrong to put you in the line of fire like this.”

“I am,” Akira states with all the confidence he can muster. It isn’t about his feelings on the matter. He needs to do this for the team.

At his answer, Ryuji relaxes and slings an arm over Akira’s shoulder. “Alright bro. If you say you got this, then you got this.”

“Still…” Makoto trails off, biting her lips.

“C’mon, when has our leader ever let us down?” Ryuji sends a grin Akira’s way, which he tries to match with a small one of his own. Makoto stalls for a bit, but ultimately breathes out a sigh.

“Okay, but if anything happens you have to let us know.”

Akira nods his head, the knot of guilt in his stomach tightening. He feels awful lying to them like this, but they shouldn’t have to worry about his mess. Meanwhile, Yusuke has stopped his one-sided mutterings.

“Yes, I understand now… Two people on opposite sides working towards the same ideals… The splendid contrast of light and darkness… Yes! This is the inspiration I seek! You two simply must agree to be my next models.” Ann slaps Yusuke’s arm.

“They are NOT participating in your nude painting.”

“Hmmm… I wouldn’t be opposed, but Akechi…”

Ann sends him a wide-eyed look. “Please tell me you aren’t serious.”

The original atmosphere returns as the lighthearted banter distracts the thieves from the previous discussion. Akira smiles as he watches his friends: the people who don’t care about his record and trust him. He wants to protect this, more than anything.

Sherlock: makes his move in CHESS

Watson: makes his move in CHESS

Sherlock: makes his move in CHESS. It’s checkmate! Sherlock wins!

Akira stuffs his face into his pillow and groans. After their first shopping excursion, they exchanged numbers on the premise of updating each other for Student Council work. However, not all their texts were work related.

Never say that Akechi can’t hold a grudge. The very moment Akira returned home, Akechi asked if he wanted to play a round of chess. He wasn’t sure, but the President insisted it was only a friendly match and he wanted to improve his rusty skills.

What an absolute liar.

He trounced Akira in less than ten moves. No way could he take this lying down, so he asked for a rematch. And another rematch. And another.

It's been nearly two weeks, and Akira still hasn’t gotten close to beating him. He needs the used bookstore to start selling chess strategy books soon before he starts going crazy.

Sherlock: Another good game! You took almost half my pieces this time.

Gloating asshole. Maybe its time to change things up. At least until he can start researching chess moves.

Watson: how about a different game?

Sherlock: Given up on chess already?

Watson: no just want to even the playing field

Watson: unless you are scared?

Sherlock: Haha, of course not. What are you going to suggest?

Watson: it’s a surprise

Watson: r u free after tomorrow’s meeting?

Sherlock: I will be until 7pm.

Watson: 👍

Placing his phone down, Akira continues forging lockpicks, the work dull enough to mull over his invitation. It is one thing to make a few random chess moves during the day, it is another to dedicate a few hours to someone he already sees three times a week.

He really shouldn’t have asked Akechi to hang out with him after school. The Student Council meetings have already halved the numbers of maid shifts he can take, and if he tries to find other time slots, he eats into other activities-- people he has important arrangements with. He can’t exactly go MIA on his confidants after agreeing to help them.

Not to mention how crazy the Phantom Thieves stuff has gotten. They made national news, catching the whole city’s attention. But it is hard to celebrate when they are no closer to knowing who the Black Mask is and their end-game goal. The whole Medjed situation also has the team worried, so he should dedicate some time to finding a solution.

Akira grimaces as the endless obligations swirl into an overwhelming slush. Is it alright for him to be wasting an afternoon when so much needs to be done? Is there more he should be doing, or perhaps he is already entirely off track? Is he letting everyone down?

Crack-- the wire Akira has been bending breaks in half. There aren’t enough materials for do-overs, so this means the team won’t be able to gain one item or piece equipment from a chest. Anywhere between 500 to 20,000 yen down the drain.

Akira shakes his head, willing himself to focus. It’s fine, he will make up for the loss. Satsuki has offered morning shifts for the weekend as well, and both Mona and Soijiro have been nagging him about sleeping in. If he accepts, he can start being more productive with his mornings.

The last lockpick is completed without any errors. Mona has come back from begging the neighbourhood ladies for treats, and yowls at him to head to bed. He falls asleep to the feeling of prisons and chains.

This time Akira is the one to drag Akechi out into Tokyo. Before they leave, Akechi has the foresight to bring some casual wear so they aren’t hounded by fans. It’s similar to the outfit he wore at the cafe, but there is a key difference.

Akechi is wearing a ponytail. It shows off more of his bare neck and has loose strands perfectly framing his face, making him seem more natural than his usual put-together style. The pulled-back hair also flaunts more of his sleek neck, and Akira had no idea people could have well-shaped necks until this day.

Because Akira is totally normal about people, he does not stare, nor does he glance at it whenever he thinks the boy isn’t looking. They have a completely normal commute to Shibuya where he is able to keep his cool and not answer half a second late whenever he is asked a question.

Finally, Akira can finally put the offending visual out of his mind when they arrive at their destination.

It's a lively location, various electronic sounds and yells filling the air.

Akechi turns towards him with raised brows. “You brought me to an arcade?”

“Yup, have you been here?”

“I haven’t. I actually have never been inside one of these.”

“Really…? Not even as a kid?”

Akechi shifts his weight from one foot to the other. “Never really had the opportunity.” The words sounded distant.

Akira knows there is a story or secret meaning in there, but that seems like something a friend would push for. Are they friends? Excluding all the blackmail, they have been chatting and are now hanging out. And Akira hasn’t seen Akechi spend this much time with anyone else.

Now that he thinks about it, he doesn’t even know WHO Akechi’s friends are. Perhaps they are the girls who swarm his desk during lunch? Akira feels like he sees them every time he passes by the Student Council door, but he has no idea if they are actual friends or just fangirls.

Well, if he has any, they are clearly too snobby to entertain the idea of going to an arcade. A mistake Akira will need to rectify.

“Then I will show you what you missed out on.” Akira flashes a grin and strolls inside, stopping in front one of his favourite games: DDR. The machine is free, so they can get started right away.

Akechi has a hand on his chin, absorbing every word of Akira’s explanation. After he gets a gist of the instructions, they stand on the two machines and start off with a simple song.

In only three minutes, the results are clear as day with Akira’s overwhelming victory. Akechi looks at the screen in muted shock at the disparity of their scores. But his surprise doesn’t last long.

“I believe I have a better understanding of the movements now. Let’s try another.” He says, not a hint of motivation gone from his terrible loss. Akira shrugs, not at all bothered by the idea of playing a few more rounds.

“Okay, but it only gets harder from here.”

Although Akechi’s technique is getting better, he still can’t make up for Akira’s years of experience.

There isn’t much to do at Inaba, so this became a classic party game after his parents got him the system. It is basically muscle memory for the country boy at this point, and although they played several games in a row, the score difference barely shrinks.

After so long, Akira finally has the sweet taste of victory. Akechi on the other hand is growing ragged, his frustration starting to show through his expressions.

By the fifteenth victory, he is visibly seething.

“Again,” he snarls, glaring straight at the “You Lose” message as he jams the coin in for another round. Much to Akira’s surprise, he isn’t at all put out by Akechi’s demeanour. He knew Akechi enjoyed competitions, but seeing his determination to win in the face of overwhelming defeat is another thing entirely.

And it is kind of nice witnessing the put together President out of his element, frustrated by something as simple as an arcade game. Silly as it was, it made Akira feel special, like he was the only one the other trusted enough to reveal this part of himself to.

“Kurusu.” Akechi says, crossing his arms and tapping his foot impatiently against the platform. Oh, Akira has just been staring at him this entire time. “What’s the hold up?”

“Sorry,” he replies, rubbing the back of his neck. “It's just… you are pretty interesting too, you know?”

His glowering senior cocks an eyebrow. “How so? I doubt my skills so far have impressed you.”

“Not that. I just haven't seen anyone this worked up over DDR.”

Akechi freezes. When the words seem to register, he forcibly relaxes his posture and lightly coughs into his hand. “My apologies, it's unbecoming of me to act so childish over a game.”

“Nah,” Akira says, placing another coin into the machine. “Competitive and determined is a good look on you. I don’t want you holding anything back.”

He seems to have rendered Akechi speechless. It's so quiet he almost fears that he somehow offended him, but then he hears an amused chuckle.

“First my clothes and now my competitiveness… You truly are an odd one. Most people would consider this a character flaw.”

“Their loss then,” Akira shrugs. He then gestures to the rest of the room. “Hey, after this lets try out the other games.”Akechi thinks for a moment before nodding in assent.

“I suppose we have been hogging the machine. And I do need to gain more experience if I am to take you out.”

“As in a fight or dinner? You know I am down for both, Sherlock.”

“Ha! Prove yourself and I may indulge you, Watson.”

Akechi sends him a crooked grin before focusing on the screen. It exposes too many teeth and stretches too far to one side, making it look more sinister than lighthearted. Akira isn’t sure if he ever saw an expression like that during one of Akechi’s commercials or interviews.

It isn’t pretty, but strangely, Akira finds he likes this one a lot more.

Slightly off-kiltered, he turns away, feeling too flustered to keep looking. There is a strange fluttering in his chest, but it is overshadowed by the lightness he feels throughout his body.

As much as he tries, he just can’t regret inviting Akechi out today.

Chapter Text

Akira isn’t sure what he expected, but it certainly wasn’t this.

On their last excursion, they tried all the machines in the arcade. Although Akechi fared far better during the shooting games, Akira hadn’t been trained by The King for nothing. Their scores were roughly even with Akira only able to pull ahead due to his familiarity with the spawn locations and controls. After a few games, Akechi managed to eke out a victory in their last round. However, considering the hard set in his jaw, it did not soothe the string of losses from before.

Akira thought Akechi enjoyed the experience overall, but wasn’t sure if the constant defeats needed to be rectified to soothe his ego. Not that much could be done now, because summer vacation has halted council meetings and the PT have been busy going through Futaba’s palace.

So of all the possible situations, he did not expect his next meeting with Akechi to be at his workplace.

“Welcome back, Ren-chan~”

“Huh--? What are you doing here, Master?” Akira barely manages to catch himself, shocked by the person he sees the moment he gets back from his lunch break. Akechi is sitting at one of the tables, disguise fully complete with the same ponytail as before.

It still looks unfairly good on him, and Akira has to consciously stop himself from turning away when he notices Akechi catching his gaze with a smug grin. It quickly dawns on him that his senior knew the effect this particular hairstyle had on Akira’s psyche and is doing this on purpose.

Unfortunately, the smirk on Akechi’s face does not stop the redness from rising to Akira’s cheeks.

Akechi, looking annoyingly satisfied from his poor junior’s embarrassment, beams up at him.

“I was just in the mood for some coffee when I remembered your esteemed workplace. It seems like a calming enough cafe to get some work done, so I wanted to drop by.” His cheerful expression immediately drops into a sad frown complete with kicked puppy dog eyes. “Unless I am not welcome?”

“Nonsense! Ren-chan’s partner is always welcome here.” Satsuki suddenly appears behind Akira, placing on the table a steaming cup of mediocre coffee.

Partner??? And when did Akechi and Satsuki become so friendly with each other?

She directs her attention to her bewildered employee, looking far too happy for someone serving the very person they nearly called security on a few weeks prior. “Now that you are back, could you please look after Tanaka-kun? I can handle one of your other tables.” She winks and skips off, leaving Akira in a state of pure confusion.

Akira turns to stare at the likely culprit who is calmly sipping his order, his true emotions only betrayed by the slightly raised corner of his lips.

“Tanaka-kun?” Akira deadpans. Akechi hums in affirmation.

“It is what I go by when dressed in this manner. And if you are curious, Satsuki-san and I chatted last weekend, so we managed to clear up any previous misunderstandings.”

The guilty party flutters his lashes innocently as he drops his voice to a whisper. “She was understandably wary, so I had to improvise to explain our relationship. Thankfully having your number and very recent chat logs made it rather easy to collaborate with my claims. I hope you don’t mind.”

Akira does but he doubts Akechi is unaware of that. As he places the sugar and cream on the table, he grumbles “I thought you weren’t a fan of places like this.”

“While this isn’t my usual style, I can’t deny that the service is up to par.” Akechi then proceeds, mind bogglingly, to flick his eyes up and down Akira’s form. Akira does not have enough brainpower to unpack that after a five hour morning shift.

“Sure… And the boyfriend part was necessary?”

Akechi gasps in faux surprise. “Boyfriend? I only claimed that we were close. Any conclusions Satsuki-san made are entirely out of my control I’m afraid.” He takes another sip from his cup and raises it to gesture for a refill. “Besides, this will make it more convenient for future visits, unless you would rather tell the truth.”

Akira pours some more, hoping his senior chokes on his awful coffee. Feeling himself growing faint from the onslaught of revelations, he decides to treat it the way he treats his other problems: out of sight, out of mind.

As if a deity heard his prayers, there is a sudden ring of the door and a new customer walks in. He gives Akechi a curtsy and takes his quick getaway.

“Ren-chan needs to head off, but please don’t hesitate to call if there is anything you need, Master.”

Without waiting for a response, he speeds away to the front, ignoring the pair of maroon trailing after him.

Akira can say with confidence that he has grown used to a certain someone’s piercing stare.

This time it is a lot more subtle: glances from the corner of Akechi’s eye whenever he takes a break from his studies. Nothing that can be noticed by others, leaving Akira as both the victim and only witness.

At least he has less to worry about than the first time around. He can’t exactly be double blackmailed by the same person. And it isn’t like Akira can always focus on the feeling of being watched, even more so when dealing with troublesome clients.

“Say cutie, when do you get off work? Me and the boys are heading to a bar nearby and think you would have a fun time.”

As the rest of his cronies cackle, Akira feels bile crawl up his throat. It is rather disgusting how these grown men are trying to make a pass at someone old enough to be their child.

This is unfortunately one of the main drawbacks of Akira’s line of work. Rotten adults see a young girl providing a service and they automatically assume she is into them and can cross whatever boundaries they want.

Akira inconspicuously surveys the room for one of the butlers or his manager, but they are either not present or are currently busy. That means he will need to handle them for a short while on his own. Maybe he can even side step their suggestive offers without needing others to get involved.

“Haha. That is so funny, Master. Are there any other refreshments you would like to order?”

“I’ll order you whatever you like if you come with us tonight.”

‘Great, the pushy type,’ Akira thinks to himself.

“Sorry, I’m not interested.” Akira says, concluding they would not take the hint and needed a straightforward rejection. “If there is nothing else, Ren-chan will refill the tea.”

He curtsies and turns back to the kitchen, but he can’t get very far before a large hand clamps onto his wrist. Akira tries to jerk it away, but the grip grows bruising.

“Don’t be like that--”

“Sir, I am going to ask you to let her go.” Both Akira and the man nearly jump out of their skin at that harsh, cutting tone.

Akechi is standing right there, arms crossed tightly over his chest and a glare of pure disdain on his face. He is looking down at the perverted customer like he is a bug he wants nothing more than to squash. It shocks the creep to the point where he isn’t solely focused on Akira, slightly loosening his hold. This gives Akira the opportunity to twist his arm out and take a few steps backwards.

His back hits a solid object. Immediately, an arm curls protectively around his waist, keeping him close. Akechi’s grip is firm, but unlike the disgusting hold from before, there is a sense of comfort and relief that accompanies it. Taking a quick breath, Akira tries to steady his pounding heart.

After a beat he focuses back on the situation. He sees a vein pulse on the man’s forehead, clearly annoyed at losing his catch and being called out by a teenager.

“Huh? Beat it, kid. This isn’t any of your business.”

Akechi doesn’t take this response too well. He openly sneers and shoots back.

“It is my business when middle-aged men are accosting my partner. Get out before I give you more than a warning.”

“What did you say you brat?!?” The man screams. He lifts himself out of his seat, winding his fist back and rushing towards Akechi with fury.

Working on pure instinct, Akira takes a hold of Akechi’s arm and pulls them off to the side. This causes the raging bull to swing wildly and miss, stumbling onto the ground with a yelp. Many heads turn, the commotion finally catching the attention of the others in the room as more people arrive at the scene.

“Ren-chan! Tanaka-kun! Are you two alright?” Satsuki asks, breathless as she no doubt ran as soon as she saw the situation. The butlers are behind her, waiting on her orders before making any moves.

The groaning man staggers back onto his feet, shaking his finger at the two of them. “These damn kids assaulted me! They should be charged! Don’t think I won’t sue!”

In an instant, all of Akira’s remaining composure dissolves into thin air.

His ears are ringing and he can’t feel the ground below his feet. People are talking, there is movement in his vision, but he can hardly register any of it.

He stares hard at the checkered floor as it twists and turns.

A splotch of red, maybe blood? But it wasn’t his fault.

Are those sirens in the background?

Who are they for? For him?

‘Damn brat, I’ll sue!’

He didn’t do it! He didn’t do anything!

He tries to spit out his innocence, but the words are lodged deep in his throat. He chokes back a whimper.

‘How could you do this to us?’ His mother sobs. It hurts, but he has no energy to fight it.

What’s the point? No one believes him anyway. No one will help him.

Clutching at his chest, he struggles to take any air. Oh god he can’t breathe. Why can’t he breathe?!

He wants to go home, but he doesn’t have one, does he?

No family who wants him, only a temporary place filled with temporary people.

Nowhere and no one who truly gives a damn.

Suddenly, there is a hand on his shoulder. Akira jerks back. No. He didn’t do it, he shouldn’t be brought back there!

However, the person keeps pushing him forward as Akira weakly struggles. Eventually they let go but make no move to exit his space.

“--en-chan, Ren-chan. Kurusu!” Akira blinks, finally realizing who exactly has been in front of him this entire time. Akechi stands there, eyes blown wide as he desperately searches his face. When their gazes meet, he lets out a small sigh and speaks firmly.

“You’re hyperventilating. You need to calm down. For now, try to follow my breaths. In--” Akechi deeply inhales and Akira tries to match it. His are much shakier and he lets it out a second before Akechi does, but eventually he is able to sync himself with his senior’s languid pace.

“--and out. Good, now try to name five things you can see.”

“Umm,” Akira stammers, voice cracking. He nervously swallows saliva down his parched throat. “There’s… there’s you. And a vase to your side, with a desk, some chairs, and a… a monitor.”

“That’s right, now--” Akechi keeps going through a list, making Akira recite what he can hear, touch, smell and taste.

By the time he has says the last one, the room is no longer spinning and the all consuming panic has been smothered to a simmer.

He manages to give Akechi a small smile. “Thank you,” he says, hoping the President could hear his gratitude in his words. Akechi waves him off, face slightly pink.

“Think nothing of it. I’m just glad you are alright.”

Akira takes a look around, noting that they are not in the cafe. “Wait, where are we? And what happened?”

“Finally noticed, I see,” Akechi remarks, but it lacks any of his usual bite. He takes a seat in one of the chairs and gently tugs for Akira to do the same. “We are in Satsuki-san’s office. For now she is handling the situation and letting us take a breather here.”

“Oh.” Akira says, fidgeting with the hem of his dress. “Are we in trouble?”

Akechi firmly shakes his head. “Not at all. Those spineless worms lost all their bravado when she mentioned there were security cameras recording the entire interaction. Last I saw, they did not put up any fuss when the butlers escorted them out.”

With the last knot of worry in his chest gone, Akira sinks into his seat and leans back, closing his eyes as a wave of exhaustion threatens to overtake him.

Distantly, he hears a row of fingers drum against the desk. A slight cough has him fluttering his eyes open to glance at his companion. Akechi looks nervous.

“Sorry to disturb you, but I wanted to ask… Do these unsavoury encounters happen often?”

Akira shrugs his shoulders. “Not really. Guys can usually take a rejection,” ‘or I dodge their wandering hand and report them.’ Akira thinks inwardly but doesn’t dare verbalize. “Just caught off guard today.” Despite his casual tone, Akechi’s eyebrows furrow.

“It’s rather concerning you deal with perverts at all.”

“Bet you deal with a lot of them too with your looks, Master~” Akira tries to tease, but all he gets back is a withering stare. Letting out a silent exhale, he turns back to the ceiling and closes his eyes. Damn Akechi for never taking the diversion bait.

“So what? No other job pays this well. It’s worth the risk.” Akira eventually says.

There is a long pause as Akechi struggles to answer. Not like Akira wants to talk anyways, feeling too exposed from his previous breakdown and the current conversation. The chairs are nice and plush. He wants to sink into them and never emerge until Goro Akechi and the rest of the world forgets about Akira Kurusu.

He hears a shift in the seats. Akechi seems to have finally found the words to speak. “Kurusu, would you consider--”

“I’m baaaack! Hope you haven’t been waiting for too long.” Satsuki interrupts Akechi as she rushes through the door with a folder under her arm. The boy closes his mouth and resumes his typical polite, non-intrusive persona, though Akira can tell he is less bright and polished than the detective prince.

“Not at all. We should be thanking you for letting us gratuitously use your space.” She simply laughs as she rounds the table to her designated spot, charmed as many are by the President.

“Well aren’t you a smooth talker. And please, getting the two of you away from prying eyes is the least I can do as the supervisor.” She turns towards Akira, smiling softly. “How are you doing? You seemed pretty shocked out there, not that anyone can blame you after that experience.”

More composed than before, Akira feels alright with answering. “Good. A-- Tanaka helped calm me down.” Despite the slight slip of his tongue, Satsuki seems to barely notice as she grins.

“That’s great to hear. I’m happy that no one got hurt.” She then crosses her hands and her expression turns stern. “You will also be happy to know that those men will not be allowed on this premise again. We received copies of their IDs and took witness testimony. And after reviewing the footage, it is obvious that they attacked first. We have the evidence, so the question is: do you want to press charges?”

Akira fiddles with a strand of his wig while he muddles over the question. It is true that having video and witness evidence will probably lead to a rightful conviction, and that it is better having predatory men like them behind bars, but a part of him is hesitant.

What if they ask for his information as one of the primary victims, leading to Satsuki finding his real identity? Or what if one of those men has power or money, turning the conviction around and making themselves the innocent party? Akira certainly has the reputation to make that a real concern.

It's almost funny how even with a closed-and-shut case, Akira still can’t find himself believing in their justice system.

“Actually, Satsuki-san,” Akechi says, raising a hand and halting Akira’s whirling thoughts. “It’s too often the police let minor cases such as these fall to the wayside. Fortunately, I have an uncle in law enforcement who can be of service. He will ensure that justice is met and the victims’ privacy is protected.”

Akechi shoots a pointed look at Akira during that last part. It is as good as a declaration from Akechi himself. Nodding, Akira lets himself trust in those resolute words.

“If he is on the case, then I have no issues pressing charges.” He says. He watches as Akechi’s shoulders relax and a grateful smile is revealed, which is silly because Akira should be the grateful one here.

A clap directs his attention away from Akechi’s face. His ears warm as he realizes they have done nothing but stare at each other the past minute.

“That settles it then! Thank you for looking into this, Tanaka-kun. Can I trust you to hand your uncle the files?” Akechi nods, so she gives him her folder.

Suddenly, she brings a fist down on her palm “Oh! Almost forgot to mention. Ren-chan, you are off for the rest of the day.”

This causes Akira to nearly bolt out of his seat.

“What? But I’m a-okay, Satsuki! You don’t need to send me back,” he protests with a pout, but she only waggles a disapproving finger in his face.

“Nuh-huh, manager’s orders. You will still get paid for your full shift, but ONLY if you take care of yourself and relax.” She swivels to Akechi with fond exasperation. “Would you please make sure she gets home safe and actually takes tonight off? Counting on you to report back to me if she tries crawling back here.”

Akechi laughs brightly. “It would be my pleasure.”

Akira can do nothing but sputter. To think his manager and Akechi would conspire against him. Is there no loyalty in this world?

Still in disbelief at being paid to forcibly rest, Akira lets himself be ushered to the change room for his stuff and then out the backdoor by Akechi.

They walk through the sunset kissed streets in silence. Akira tugs his jacket closer to his body, hoping no part of his uniform is peaking through.

It would be awkward to change with Akechi in the room, and he doesn’t want to bother him by asking for a pit stop to a restroom. Thus, he can only hope this will be enough to prevent other perverts from harassing him.

Though, it's not like clothes ever stopped a predator. He glances at Akechi who is staying close to his side, inconspicuously scanning the streets as if someone is going to just pop out and attack them. It’s a bit sad how threats of bodily harm from another man is often the only deterrent for some of these monsters, but it does make him glad Akechi is here.

It’s strange. Akira has always tried so hard to be independent, to not be a burden. The thought of others going out of their way for him often has him squirming with unease. And yet, Akechi’s assured demeanour slightly untangles that knot of worry.

It’s still there, but this time, Akira has an inclination other than grovelling for forgiveness.

“I never got to thank you,” Akira says. Akechi finally stops his surveillance and looks at him with a raised brow.

“Didn’t you earlier? I hope you aren’t experiencing short-term memory loss.”

“Not that,” Akira huffs. “That was for helping me calm down. I haven’t thanked you yet for intervening, for taking this case into your workload.”

He stops and tugs on Akechi’s sleeve, making sure he has the President’s full attention. “So thank you for helping me.” Akira can’t help but think back to that dumb little ‘hero’ hat he got Akechi at the thrift store. To think his impulsive gift would be so fitting.

“You were my hero today, Akechi.”

Akira watches as the President’s face goes slack, facade revealing its cracks. Akechi’s mouth parts slightly as he stares with clear, wide eyes. Wonder and amazement filter through his expression, giving way to something uniquely vulnerable for someone so guarded.

But eventually a storm seems to pass over his gaze. The mask hardens, he tugs his arm out of Akira’s loose grasp and faces ahead, resuming his march forward.

“Don’t mention it,” he says, but there is an odd clip to his voice. Akira gets the feeling that this time it's not a platitude, but an actual request.

Akira frowns, wondering what went wrong. He was sure that Akechi liked it when praised for his skills or actions, and yet he looks conflicted. Still, Akechi doesn’t seem ready to talk about it, so Akira doesn’t ask.

They don’t speak for the rest of the trip, but there is a distinct change between them, even if neither wishes to say it outloud.

In the future, Akira will think back to this day a lot.

Chapter Text

When they nearly arrive at LeBlanc, it dawns on Akira to ask how Akechi managed to lead them here. He never told the President where he lived, nor has he ever been spotted in this area.

Yet the other casually states he saw it from his file, which is… hmmm… Akira doesn’t actually know how to feel about this. Does Akechi mean his student or police record? And is it common for school presidents to remember the student body’s addresses, or is Akira just special?

Even if he voices these thoughts, will he get a straightforward response? And how will Akira himself react? What would be best for Akechi, for his team?

It’s becoming an annoying pattern where one question for Akechi leads to half a dozen more.

And it's not like he hasn’t met guarded people before; hell, most of his adult confidants are hiding some sort of crisis in their closet. And yet, he doesn’t feel as overly invested in them like with Akechi. What makes Akechi so important to him?

He doesn’t spend too long on that train of thought, because Sojiro instantly hones in on them when they enter the cafe. His guardian takes one look at his face and demands he goes to the bathhouse to “--at least make yourself look like a clean half-dead corpse,” which is unfair; Akira bathed this morning and he didn’t get that dirty.

Akechi waxes an Oscar-worthy sob story about wanting to take care of his assistant and how long its been since he last experienced a bathhouse before Sojiro lets him join too. Akira inwardly sighs, so much for not wanting to change in front of his senior. And after some more compliments thrown about the coziness of the cafe and the smell of high grade blue mountain coffee, Sojiro will probably be giving Akechi a full free meal afterwards as well.

Akira resolves to never let Akechi meet any of his other adult associates, lest they are also swayed to the other’s side. He does not need more people trying to plot behind his back with the goal of more forced rest. At this rate, he fears he will wake up and find himself tied to a bed with Akechi smiling down at him. His gut does flips at the visual. Yeah, better not to think about that.

He continues grabbing his regular clothes and towels. It's unfortunate he doesn’t have the energy to fight for his guardian’s mercy today, so he lets a smug President trail after him into the bath.

As disgruntled as he was for basically being chided into coming here, Akira can’t deny that the hot water is doing wonders for his exhaustion. He can feel his veins revitalizing and pumping blood to his fingers and face, and that last part is NOT because Tokyo's #1 Teen Heart-Throb is sitting half naked across from him.

He takes a peak at Akechi who is all loose limbs and eyes closed. The steam is causing trickles of moisture to glisten on his well-toned chest, washboard abs Akira can only wish he possessed. He forces himself not to stare at the pair of rosy pecks, but there aren’t many better places to look. Even without the layers of product covering his face, Akechi is still gorgeous. It's unfair how the heavy eye bags and sprinkling of light freckles does nothing to detract from his looks.

Okay, maybe the heat on Akira’s face is partially because of Akechi’s stunning appearance, but Akira is only human. He cannot be blamed for possessing eyes and a healthy appreciation for beauty.

As if sensing his attention, Akechi cracks one eye open. “Something the matter, Kurusu?” A lazy smirk rises to his lips. “Missing the ponytail already?”

Usually, Akira is quick; he can send another quip back with full Joker confidence. But current-Akira has neither the mental strength or restraint of usual-Akira, so instead of witty words, he sends a splash of water at Akechi’s face.

Akira giggles as Akechi sputters inelegantly, looking a bit like a drowned rat. The older boy doesn’t take this lying down and slams a full wave in Akira’s direction. Akira lets out a (very manly) yelp before sending one back.

Quickly, the two of them enter a full-blown water fight until a disapproving grandpa yells at them and begins exiting the bath, muttering about rowdy youth and their lack of respect for the elderly.

With the bathhouse now empty except for the two of them, they fall into a more peaceful silence. Both the hot water and resulting battle has Akira feeling a lot better, so he thinks about a safe topic he can drag Akechi into.

“So…” He begins. “Before Satsuki entered the room, what did you want to ask me?”

Immediately, Akechi’s face shutters, his emotions sealing tight. “It’s nothing.” Great. Fantastic. Akira is really nailing this conversation, huh?

“I see…” Akira says, watching as the surface of the bath ripples against the evening wind. He expects this to be the end of it, for them to enjoy their bath and eventually leave. It will be a bit of an awkward goodbye, but it's not like this will be their last time meeting. Akechi will probably pop up again in the near future.

Akira brings up his hand to brush the wet hair from his face, and then halts midway to look at his arm. There is a dark bruise forming: blotches of red and purple molding a finger-shaped band just above his wrist. He grimaces.

This will probably take a few days to heal. It doesn’t impede his movements, but it might raise questions from his confidants. It’s too hot to start wearing long-sleeves, so he will need to get creative. Bandages will probably lead to worse conclusions (none of the PT will believe him if he says it’s a cat scratch), so that option is out. Perhaps a watch or wristband will work? The issue will be getting that past Morgana…

“Is that from today?”

Akira startles, twisting to look to his left. Akechi had somehow moved from his spot across from Akira to beside him without Akira noticing. His senior doesn’t seem to care about Akira’s surprise, staring intently at the injury.

There is no point in trying to deny him. “Yeah,” Akira answers. Akechi slowly brings his hand up until it lands right on the bruise. He wraps his fingers around it, thumb rubbing circles around a particularly dark area. It’s not tight enough to hurt, but the pressure sends tingles up Akira’s nerves.

Taking a peek upward, Akira notices that Akechi’s face is completely blank. It’s like he forgot that humans are supposed to wear facial expressions when around other people. Suddenly, he has the urge to put his hands up slowly like he is approaching a wild animal. Something is wrong, but Akira can’t decipher what it is.

“It doesn’t hurt and will heal soon, don’t worry,” he says, hoping his reassurance can mollify Akechi’s weird mood.

Akechi snaps his head up, eyes burning darkly in the night. “Is that all you have to say?”

Akira frowns. “It’s small, and I told you, this doesn’t happen often. I just made a mistake today--”

“The only mistake was selling yourself like a commodity in the first place.” Akechi hisses.

Akechi should have just slapped him with how hard that statement hit. Akira’s mouth drops as he processes Akechi’s words, barely believing that the principled and protective President he had come to know would say something so cruel. Being a maid may not have been Akira’s first pick, but he still holds pride in his work.

Wrenching his arm out of Akechi’s grip, he speaks with pure ice in his voice. “I am not a prostitute. And despite what you may believe, I like my job, and I don’t consider any of it as ‘selling myself’. I didn’t know you thought this way…”

No longer in the mood to talk, Akira starts to get up to leave the bath. However, before he can step onto the ledge, he is stopped by a desperate hand.

“Wait,” Akechi says with a barely hidden plea. “I apologize for my harsh words. I was out of line. This is simply… hard to accept.” He trails off, eyes glazing over, seeing something Akira can’t.

The fire burning in Akira’s chest shrinks. He stops to take a real look at Akechi. Despite how hot the bath is, his face is white and his grip is shaky. Something is deeply affecting him, but Akira has no idea what.

Gradually, Akira sinks back into the water. He is still a bit indignant, but he is willing to hear the other boy out.

“Okay,” he says. “But can you tell me why you are so bothered by this?”

Akechi releases his hand and leans back against the wall, sighing.

“Truthfully, I used to come to these quite often.” Akechi’s voice is soft, a nostalgic tint to his tone. “My family situation was… complicated. By the time I was old enough to realize, my father was already gone, and my mother was all I had.”

Akira has a bad feeling about where this is going, but he keeps silent, listening attentively to Akechi’s story. His senior’s eyes are downcast, staring at the water right where his reflection should be. Akira wonders if he is noticing the differences between his present and past self, or perhaps the aching similarities.

“She worked at a nightclub, so whenever she needed to bring a man home, she would send me off to the local bathhouse. When I came back, she would always act so happy and smile like nothing was wrong. But even my childish, naive self knew better. Everyday she looked more tired and earned more bruises. Ones like yours.”

Akira’s rage extinguishes completely. He can’t imagine how hard that must have been: to be forced to leave your mom with a strange man and come back to her battered, wondering what happened but being powerless to help.

“... You’ve been through a lot.”

Akechi shakes his head. “It’s in the past, and I hold no ill feelings toward her.” He then clenches his jaw, fury burning in his gaze. “It’s my father who deserves the blame. That worthless, degenerate excuse for a man who abandoned my mother.” He raises his head to look directly into Akira’s eyes.

“It’s reminders that scum like him roam freely in this world that enrages me. I know your situation is not exactly the same, and your work not nearly comparable, but… it’s difficult, knowing you are constantly meeting the same lot, and could possibly fall victim to their sick perversions. No one can always be strong. Not forever.”

Oh, he gets it now. In Akira’s mind, the pieces quietly click together to form a clearer picture.

He thinks he has a better understanding of Akechi now. The President may be bold in his beliefs, but when it comes to his feelings, he is rarely ever straightforward.

His anger most likely came from his old repressed emotions. He doesn’t think less of Akira, he just fears the same thing is happening again. He divulged details of his past to help Akira understand, and maybe as a consolation for his misplaced rage.

Akira’s heart warms. He wouldn’t have expected Akechi to care for his well-being.

“You’re right. Many creeps prey on maid cafes, and I can’t fend them off forever.” Akira says, keeping his tone even. “But I don’t plan on being a maid for the rest of my life, and I have people watching my back: you, Satsuki, the butlers--” He pauses to give Akechi his best reassuring smile. “You said so yourself, our situations are different. Let me prove to you that I am capable of handling this. I’m your partner and rival, aren’t I?”

His senior stares at him for a while, eventually letting out a sigh.

“Using my own words against me? Rather underhanded of you.”

“Who said I couldn’t? Can’t break any rules when none are established.”

“You sound like a soon to be rule breaker already. To think I would acquire such a troublesome assistant.”

“Sorry, Sherlock, but you are stuck with me. No take backs or returns.”

His senior huffs fondly, shaking his head. “I suppose so. Rather unfortunate for me, I tend to run my mouth like a fool around you.” Akechi reveals a self-deprecating smile, one Akira wants to remedy immediately.

Akira doesn’t think about his next actions. As if guided by instinct alone, he partially leans towards Akechi, letting his shoulder rest against the other. He hears a hitch of breath.

“For what it's worth… I don’t think of you as a fool,” Akira says softly. It feels too embarrassing to look at the person beside him, so he keeps his gaze forward, watching the steam rise into the air. “I think it’s brave of you to open yourself up. Not many people can, so thank you for trusting me with this. I’m glad I got to hear it.”

There is a pause. Akira enjoys a few seconds of peace as stillness encompasses the warm evening. Eventually, Akechi does speak.

“There is something I wish to ask. You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.” Already, Akira feels apprehensive. He turns and finds Akechi looking right back at him.

“I noticed you were fine during the fight today, but started panicking right after. Did the situation not register until that moment, or did something else…?” Uncharacteristically, Akechi is unable to finish his question. His voice is tentative but his eyes stay firm, never straying from Akira’s face. Akira clenches his hands together and breaks their connected gaze.

Akira can still feel him. The President is still watching him, clearly trying to get a good read on Akira and evaluating if he is still toeing the boundary of what his assistant is willing to divulge.

He gave an easy out, to say the attempted assault was all that did it. Akira wants to take this lifeline… but he doesn’t.

Because a deeper part of him is inspired by Akechi’s courage in sharing his personal story. They are similar: both people who thrive on smoke and masks, yet he willingly brought a few down for Akira.

Akira wants to be brave too.

“... No, it wasn’t that,” Akira murmurs. He still hasn’t looked up, but he hears the silence.

He takes a deep, trembling breath. The stage is his.

“I was just a normal student in a small town named Inaba. One day, I heard a woman crying for help and rushed to see what was going on. A man, someone I never saw before, was trying to drag her into his car.”

Akira still remembers fragments of the night so clearly. The smell of the after-rain air, the blood dripping from the man’s forehead, and the sound of sirens.

“A-all that I did was separate them, but the man fell over. He told the police that I attacked him, and next thing I knew, I was charged and sent here. But I didn’t, I swear I didn’t--”

“I believe you.”

Akira jerks his head, too stunned to speak. Akechi is gently pulling his hands apart, soothing the newly-made red marks. Oh, he didn’t even notice the deep semi-circles his fingernails were leaving in his skin.

“You aren’t the type to attack people without good cause, far too much of a selfless wallflower to even consider doing so. So yes, I believe you didn’t attack him.”

Akira lets out a chuckle that sounds too close to a sob. He lightly squeezes Akechi’s hands in return. “I don’t know about all of that… But thanks. You are the first person who believed me.” The older boy scoffs.

“Truly? Is Inaba full of brain dead imbeciles? No wonder your chess skills aren’t up to par.”

Did... Did Akechi just make a joke? And one that had none of the polite sanitation of the Detective Prince? Not to mention that someone he met only a few months ago, who is trying to arrest him, believes in his innocence while his family and all his childhood friends don’t.

The sheer absurdity is what gets Akira to burst into full laughter, unable to even be annoyed at the President’s smug expression.

“Yeah,” Akira says, wiping away a tear. “I guess so. The supposed victim didn’t even show up to the trial and yet they declared me guilty.”

“Hmmm.” Akechi lets go of Akira’s hands and rubs his chin. “That is not a customary criminal trial. It is even more unreasonable that they made a judgment without witness testimony. What about the woman?”

Akira shrugs. “I don’t exactly remember… but I think he threatened her. Something about money fraud?”

Akechi clicks his tongue. “Then he must have quite a bit of power. Perhaps even ties to the police force.” Akechi frowns deeply, sending a glower Akira’s way. “Aren’t you angry to face such injustice? Why haven’t you looked into this at all?”

Akira rubs the back of his neck, feeling a bit chagrined at Akechi’s accusation.

“Didn’t have the time…” He mumbles. There is so much that needs to be done to keep his team alive. And a rotten adult threatening their livelihoods always appeared right after they finish up a palace, taking priority over a past transgression.

Akechi is right. What Akira faced was injustice and he is angry, but he has no room to be selfish right now.

“And not like I can do much about it with my record,” Akira adds. Akechi doesn’t know he is a Phantom Thief, so it is a good enough excuse.

Indeed, the President ponders on his words before replying. “… I suppose that is an accurate assessment. However, unlike yourself, I do have influence within the law.” There is a gleam in Akechi’s eyes that sends shivers down Akira’s spine. Akechi leans in close until he occupies all of Akira’s vision.

“What is that man’s name?” Akechi asks, a dangerous undertone in his words. Akira blinks, surprised to once again hear the voice that sounds closer to a growl than human speech. This time, there is no confusion or caution. In fact, it lights up a weird part of his brain, giving him the same buzz dodging a shadow’s attack by a hair’s breadth would have.

Akira is ashamed to say the feeling is not unpleasant.

He shakes his head, both as a way to reorient himself and sign his answer. “I don’t know. I didn’t hear it the night of. And during the trial, it was never mentioned.”

Akechi pulls back and hums, looking a bit disappointed. Akira feels like he can finally take a breath.

“If you ever recognize who orchestrated your conviction, you can come to me. I cannot guarantee anything, but perhaps I can help overturn it.”

Akira instantly panics. “You don’t need to. You are already so busy and--”

“I want to, Kusuru. And unless you are sincerely burdened by my actions, nothing but your adamant refusal will sway me.” Akechi declares, firmly denying Akira’s protests. And what is he supposed to say to that?

Once again, Akira feels like his heart is beating a mile a minute. Akechi has done so much for him today, and yet he insists on doing more despite Akira’s lack of usefulness. It’s difficult to accept. It’s everything he never dared to dream.

“... Okay,” Akira whispers. He then makes a decision. Perhaps it is rash, but it feels right. “And you don’t need to be formal with me anymore. You can call me Akira.”

Akechi’s eyes widen, surprise evident on his face. “What brought this on?”

“Well, you heard my tragic backstory and saw me naked. I would say that is grounds for friendship,” Akira jokes. Akechi flushes, surprisingly bashful at the new relationship designation.

“I am not adverse to this new title,” he says, his tone is stiff and unsure while his mouth pulls down into a grimace. “I want you to know that I also think quite highly of you. However, I don’t know if I’m ready to reciprocate–”

“That’s fine,” Akira jumps in to say. Akechi’s body stills, seemingly not expecting Akira’s response. “I am not doing this to force you. If you aren’t comfortable, I would be happy to still call you Akechi.”

Akechi visibly relaxes. “I appreciate your consideration. And…” He pauses, stumbling over his next words. “I don’t have much experience in the ‘friend’ department, but I will do my best to meet your expectations.”

Akira cocks his head. “Really? What about those people you spend time with at lunch?”

“They are more like acquaintances: people who look up to what I do, but nothing more. Admirers would be the better term.” Akechi blinks and quickly adds “So you are aware, I have been confessed to, but I rejected all of them.”

‘Oh, they are fangirls then,’ Akira thinks. That makes him feel a bit sad for Akechi, since he may be the boy’s first friend. But there is also a bit of relief that Akechi isn’t interested in forming relationships based on shallow celebrity perceptions. It's an odd, conflicting mixture of emotions.

“Just keep being you, that is all I ask,” is what Akira ultimately says. He wants Akechi to know that true friends like each other for who they are, and he doesn’t need to do anything extravagant. Akechi still looks skeptical, but manages to give a jerky nod.

Akira can do nothing but grin, over the moon that the President did not reject being called a friend. Maybe Morgana is right: Akechi can be an ally he trusts and relies on.

The two of them remain in the water a bit longer, jumping around innocuous topics. Eventually, their skin starts pruning, so they decide to head out. They have a competition to see who can change the fastest, which unfortunately ends up being a tie. Not that either of them will accept it, so they bicker about it until they reach the cafe.

Sojiro is still there and asks Akechi to stay for a late dinner, but he declines on the basis of his last train arriving soon. Thus, he takes his leave.

“See you later, Akira.” Akechi waves goodbye before heading out the door. Akira dumbly waves back, feeling a bit too flustered at the sound of his name on Akechi’s lips.

“Kid? It’s late, shouldn’t you be heading to bed?” Sojiro’s question breaks Akira out of his reverie. He quickly nods and sprints up the stairs. Immediately, he flops onto the bed, causing a sleepy Morgana to yowl and swipe at his side. However, Akira is too happy to care.

He is so glad they are friends now.

Chapter Text

The judge sits calmly in her seat as the room waits with bated breath. Her eyes are closed, deep in thought to deliberate her final judgement. The wait is maddening, but Akira can’t be angry at her careful consideration. Her next few words will decide his fate: whether the actions he took till now were meaningful, or simply wasted effort. The correct verdict is worth a few more agonizing seconds.

“I declare this curry…” Futaba gives a dramatic pause before opening her eyes and raising a thumbs-up. “To be SSS Rank! A full five stars!”

Akira gives himself a silent fist bump. After weeks of blood, sweat, and onion tears, he finally perfected Sojiro’s recipe. His cooking teacher chuckles, getting up from his perch to give Akira a congratulatory pat on the back.

“I didn’t fully understand what she said, but if she liked it then you don’t need any more proof. Good job, kid.”

Akira rubs the back of his neck, flushing a bit at the praise. It’s nice that Sojiro warmed up to him after his team helped Futaba exit her room. Although she still isn’t comfortable being in unfamiliar places alone, they have gone through enough of her promise list for her to be able to walk around Yogen-Jaya as she pleases. The whole situation seems to have lowered his guardian’s walls, making him treat Akira with more parental kindness than anything Akira is used to.

Out of the corner of his vision, he sees Morgana jump up onto the seat next to Futaba, blue eyes peeking over the counter. “Oh! Can you share some with me? It’s nearly dinnertime and the smell is making me hungry.” His gaze is strictly on her share, tail thumping eagerly in excitement.

Before Futaba can answer, Sojiro rounds the counter and swiftly picks Mona up. His friend yowls and squirms in Sojiro’s grasp.

“Talkative as ever. Make sure you keep the bowl away from him, Futaba. Not sure if it is safe for cats.” Morgana starts loudly protesting until he hears Sojiro’s next words. “I ordered some fresh tuna last night. I will take him back home for his food.”

“T-tuna?” Morgana exclaims. The not-cat instantly stops struggling. Grinning at his fish provider, he turns on his charms and starts purring. Sojiro smiles indulgently as he properly cradles Morgana in his arms.

“Already acting cute, huh? I swear it's like you can understand me when I mention food.”

“Hehe, that’s right. Mona is a reaalllly smart cat.” Futaba smirks like the gremlin she is, reaching out to pinch and pull at Morgana’s cheeks. His struggles renew with intensity.

“Ack! S-Stop it! You are going to pull my cheeks off! And I’m not a cat!” Although Sojiro can’t understand him, the distinct pitch of his yelps is enough for the secret cat lover to pull him away from Futaba’s grabby fingers.

“Alright, that is enough bullying of the cat for today,” he says, turning around to head back to his home. When he reaches the door, he spares a second to look at Akira.

“Can you close up after she is done?” Akira nods, so he gives a quick ‘thanks’ and continues walking, letting the door fall shut with the soft ring of the bell.

Akira goes to make them some cold, decaf coffee as Futaba chows down on her late dinner. On weekday nights, there aren’t any customers left to serve, so he doesn’t prepare more than two cups. He takes out the equipment and lets muscle memory guide him: the act of making coffee is a skill he is quite confident in. It takes no time at all for their drinks to be ready.

“Here you go,” he says, placing a cup in front of Futaba. He snags his own as well as a plate of curry and sits down next to her. She looks up from her meal mid-chew.

“T’anks,” she manages to say, surprisingly coherent given how her cheeks are puffed up like a chipmunk. Grabbing the mug, she quickly gulps the drink down with impressive speed. After half of the cup is downed, she places it back on the table with a satisfied sigh, turning towards Akira with a wide smile.

“Ahh, that hit the spot. No better combo than coffee and curry.”

Akira nods in agreement. “Your mom and Sojiro are geniuses for this combination.”

“I know right? They are the greatest.” She places her hands on her hips and puffs up her chest proudly.

Akira can’t help the sudden blossoming of fondness in his chest. She has come so far from the scared shut-in he met back in July. Before, she couldn’t even leave her room or talk to anyone without a screen. Now, she is sitting in the cafe, conversing with someone in person, and is able to speak about her mom without being overwhelmed by guilt. Although he knows most of it is thanks to Futaba’s own strength and determination, he likes to think his support helped her get to this point.

“Hmmm…” Futaba mumbles thoughtfully, tapping her finger on the worn-down wood. “If high quality food can massively regenerate HP or SP, this will probably be a super OP item.”

“That’s the plan,” Akira says in agreement. “I will bring some to test for our next Mementos run.”

“Looking forward to it, Leader!” Futaba gives an energetic salute, but she instinctively uses the hand that is holding her spoon and sends bits of curry flying. She gasps, using her napkin to wipe down the counter while Akira chuckles.

She sticks her tongue out in response and grumpily shoves another spoonful of curry into her mouth, however her annoyance isn’t strong enough against the rich flavour. Her expression brightens up considerably.

“Mmmm, I really hope this heals SP. I would be fully revived if this was my medicine. The shadows are only going to get tougher, so my support will be important.” A few seconds later, her face falls, chews slowing to a crawl as a troubled look overtakes her expression.

“... And we are going to need it if we run into that Black Mask guy. We don’t know how long he’s been around, but he is probably the one who actually killed my mom, right?”

Akira cannot dispute her theory, so he nods.

After Futaba agreed to join, the whole team caught her up to speed with what they did and what they knew. Obviously, the mysterious Black Mask, who was feared by the latest palace rulers, was mentioned. It doesn’t surprise Akira that the young prodigy could put two-and-two together and realize the similarities between her mother’s death and the mental shutdowns.

Akira’s agreement does not soothe her worry. She bites on her bottom lip and wraps her arms around her legs.

“Then this guy must have been fighting in that world for YEARS. I know you only started this spring, but have we really never met him?”

She glances with hopeful eyes at Akira, and he hesitates to give an answer. Eventually, he shakes his head solemnly, regretful that he can’t dispute her.

None of the Phantom Thieves have seen any other persona users in the metaverse, whether that be the palaces or Mementos. Occasionally, Akira would feel the hairs on his neck rise and his heart thumping in his ears: the unique sensation of being watched. However, whenever he asked Mona if he could sense anyone in the vicinity, their navigator would scrunch up his face in confusion and state that they were the only ones here.

Akira could only attribute these moments to his paranoia going haywire. Whoever was abusing the metaverse, they were doing a good job of avoiding their path.

After his confirmation, Futaba shrinks into herself, the dark cloud around her growing thicker. “I want to stop him, and every other rotten adult-- for mom, for all their victims, but I got zero dps capabilities. I’m basically a rotting log in a 1v1 fight. I know I’m good at navigation and I’m the best hacker around, but is good support really going to be enough…?”

Akira’s heart aches at her anxious appearance. The feeling hits too close to home, and he kicks himself for never considering that others may feel the same way. He can’t let her worries fester. Putting on a brave face, he reaches out and pats her head.

“Hey, you do more than enough,” he says, injecting as much confidence as he can in his voice. “You saved us many times already, and we don’t expect you to do everything. Everyone has their important role. Morgana is our metaverse expert and main healer, Ann and Ryuji our hardest hitters, Yusuke our fastest attacker, and Makoto our jack of all trades who can take over strategy when I’m out of commission. That is what a team is for, and it’s the one thing we have that the Black Mask doesn’t. Worst case, we run and regroup, but so far, we have always figured it out.”

Futaba gives a weak smile, the anxiety trickling off her shoulders. “Yeah… You’re right, big bro.”

She pauses, eyes growing wide. After she mouths her last words, her face flushes and she starts waving her hands up in a panic. “S--Sorry! That just slipped out! Goddamnit, Futaba, you weren’t supposed to say that just yet... Not that I have been thinking about it! Ahhh, mayday mayday…”

Meanwhile, Akira is stunned. He never had any siblings, much less someone who WANTS to be one. He knows that he cares for his newest teammate, but it is only beginning to register that he has been feeling rather protective over her since they met. Even if it is only until next year, he wants to be her pillar of support.

“I would be honoured to have you as a little sister,” he says, snapping Futaba out of her worried spiral.

“R-Really…?” She stutters. Akira nods, which makes her break out into a bright smile.

“Okay! Big brother acquired! Phew, glad I let it slip then.” She points her finger at him triumphantly. “That makes us family, which means that we support and care for each other. You’ve been helping me get on my feet, and--and I know you can already go out and stuff, so instead I will be watching your back. So long as it has to do with hacking or navigation, nothing will escape Oracle’s vision. The Black Mask won’t have anything on us!”

“Okay, I will be counting on you then,” he replies, giving her hair one last ruffle. She hums cheerfully, scooping up the last bit of rice. Futaba appears to have gained back her confidence, which makes Akira even happier he accepted this new position.

“Well, I’m tired so my special services will have to wait for another day. But for your first official task as my big brother…” She snatches up her empty plate and holds it out. “Another round, please.”

“Alright,” he laughs, taking it and getting up to fill it with another helping of curry and rice. “But this is your last serving tonight. I need to save the rest for lunch.”

Back at the counter, she pushes herself up and angles her body to inspect the half-full pot.

“Woah, that’s a massive amount for lunch. Are you secretly a kirby?”

Akira shakes his head. “No, it’s not just mine. It’s also for a friend.”

Truthfully, the main reason he wanted to learn how to make curry, beyond its potential metaverse uses and the bonding time with Sojiro, is for Akechi.

For the rest of the summer, Akechi would come to the cafe on the weekends to do work. None of those days were as eventful as the first summer vacation visit, but despite the peacefulness, he never failed to show up. Akira can’t imagine that Akechi enjoyed the loud and busy atmosphere or the mediocre coffee. Not to mention how risky it was for him. When Akira had time to think about it, he realized that Akechi had a lot to lose if he were caught at his workplace. It’s scary to think of how the school would handle him, let alone his fans for ruining their “pure” image of him.

The only logical conclusion is that he came for Akira, which already sounds as plausible as that old midnight channel rumor back in his hometown.

No matter the truth, it’s undeniable that Akechi already helped him out a lot. Mishima was able to confirm that Iiada-kun was only suspended and is back in school this year, and despite Akira’s fears of police knocking on his door after the maid cafe incident, no one arrived. Akechi kept his word both times.

Akira wants to show his appreciation somehow. After watching Akechi eat nothing but an apple every weekend lunch, feeding him seemed like a good idea.

However, when he tried sneaking Akechi one of the maid cafe’s lunch options on the house, the older boy left three times the price of the dish on the table. Akira thought maybe it was a mishap, so he tried to return the money the next week. Contrary to his expectations, Akechi refused to take it back, even threatening to file a direct complaint to Satsuki if Akira continued insisting. His unchanging pleasant expression was proof enough that he wasn’t bluffing. Sufficiently cowed, Akira had no choice but to pocket the unreasonable tip.

Akira was not about to repeat the same mistakes, so he wracked his brain for some way to pay back his new friend.

This was how he stumbled upon cooking. Akechi cannot use societal expectations or his boss to force monetary payment, and it will get the overworked detective fed. It was a great plan.

The only hiccup was that he only knew how to make coffee, which is not exactly a filling meal. Thus, he asked Sojiro to teach him his famous curry. The coffee and curry were already a pair, so it was the logical next step.

But this took longer than he expected. He wanted to make sure what he served was no less than perfection, so even though school already restarted and they met several times, Akira had yet to show Akechi his creation.

But tomorrow will finally be the day.

“Really? Who? One of the thieves?” Futaba asks in rapid succession.

“Actually…” Akira hesitates. “It’s for Akechi.”

Futaba cocks her head and frowns. “Akechi? Akechi Goro? That shiny guy on the TV?” She points her thumb behind her. Akira follows it, and huh, the current program is rerunning one of Akechi’s commercials. The Detective is winking at the camera as he holds some brand name shampoo bottle. His hair is somehow (probably special effects) sparkling in the light.

“Yup,” Akira replies, popping the ‘p’. She looks back and forth between the two.

“A celebrity, huh? That’s coolio,” she eventually says. She then puts her hand on her mouth and gasps.

“He is the detective, and you are our Phantom Thief leader. Omg, it’s like the doujins foretold…”

“What?” Akira asks. He is better than Sojiro, at least having an understanding of modern slang, but he can admit that some of what Futaba says flies over his head.

However, instead of an explanation, she only waves him off. “Nevermind, best to let fate run its course.”

Internally, Akira just shrugs. If she says it isn’t important, then he can probably let her remark go.

Soon Futaba finishes and heads out. After walking her home, Akira makes his way back to the cafe, locks the door, and prepares two bento boxes and thermoses for tomorrow. Confidence swells inside him when he admires the perfectly wrapped meals.

Akira is so ready.

Akira is so not ready.

He can’t see it right now, but he is hyper-aware of the extra packages in his bag. For some reason, he woke up feeling unbelievably nervous about handing these over. He made a great lunch, he knows he did, but the thought of Akechi judging it sends electricity down his spine.

The Detective has a whole food blog with thousands of followers. Would he still appreciate Akira’s amateur-made food?

“Hello? Earth to Akira?” Ann waves her hand in front of Akira’s face. He blinks and looks around, finally noticing that most of his classmates have already left.

“It’s lunchtime. Ready to go?” She asks. He nods and hefts up his bag, feeling the heaviness dig into his shoulder like cinder blocks. Maybe he needs more time to prepare himself and practice, and perhaps on another day outside of school. Akechi will probably be busy with his hoard of fangirls as usual.

However, as they make their way down the hall, he takes a quick peek into the Student Council Room and stops.

Akechi is there, but no one else is. That’s strange: the room is usually bustling with people.

“What’s wrong, bro?” Ryuji asks. Akira turns to his two friends and makes a quick decision.

“Sorry, guys. I don’t think I can join you for lunch today. Can you take Mona?”

“Huh? Why?” His best friend cocks his head to look at the nameplate of the room. “Oh, you need the Student Council? Is it Mako--”

Ann forces her elbow into Ryuji’s side, causing him to wheeze. “Sure, no problem! Come on, Mona, let's go.”

“Wait, Lady Ann--” But even Morgana is helpless as Ann picks him up and shoves him into her bag. Ryuji yelps as Ann drags him away. In an instant, it's just Akira left in the hallway.

Vowing to one day repay her, he opens the door to the room. Akechi looks up, shock written on his face.

Akira smiles. “Hey, Akechi. Want to eat lunch together?”

The other boy blinks before schooling his expression into something more natural. “Akira, I wasn’t expecting you. Don’t you usually eat lunch with your friends?”

Taking that as a ‘yes’, Akira walks inside and sits across from the President.

“In case you forgot, you are part of that group as well,” he answers with a mirthful smile. Akechi turns away, flustered.

“Right, my apologies. I’m afraid I am still getting used to the title.”

“It’s fine, you will get used to me one day.”

Akechi lets out a huff of amusement. “I’m not sure if I ever will,” is all he says in response.

He continues going through a strange assortment of folded up paper. Akira tilts his head, curious at the odd task. Akechi glances up and catches Akira’s gaze.

“I am reading through the student suggestion box, taking note of what could be improved at our school,” Akechi explains. Just as he says so, he takes one from the top and spreads it out to read. The next second, he is quickly folding it back up and throwing it to the far corner of his desk.

But he didn’t close it quick enough for Akira to miss it.

‘DIE POLICE BITCH’ was scrawled in big, black, ugly letters.

“Akechi…” Akira trails off. Akechi pursues his lips, steadfastly not meeting Akira’s eyes.

“Forget you saw it. This is none of your concern,” Akechi says, a sharp warning in his tone. Maybe if he were talking to the Akira he met on his first day, it would work. But at this point Akira knows that Akechi lashes out when overwhelmed with his emotions. He won’t be caught off guard this time.

Akira frowns, thinking about why something so awful was written. Then it hits him. Ever since the Phantom Thieves publicly defeated Medjed, their popularity soared. He caught glimpses of how the public seemed to switch sides: supporting the PT while hating those who oppose them, Akechi included.

He had no idea that their disdain would lead to direct attacks.

As guilty as he feels about being partly responsible for the situation, he steadfastly pushes it to the side. Akechi has always been there for him; it’s time he was there for the President too.

“Whoever wrote that note is a coward. Best to ignore--”

“I know,” Akechi snaps. “Do you believe I am a spineless sycophant who cowers to the public’s whim? I am not so pathetic, Akira.”

Akechi has his arms crossed, head tilted up with a slight sneer. Despite the brazen statement, Akira can see the strain in his body, the coiling of a cornered animal ready to strike. Akira refuses to fight or flee.

“I never thought you were. I… When I first transferred here, I was treated like this too,” Akira admits softly, watching the shock and realization flash in Akechi’s eyes. “I knew that I did nothing wrong and that I should ignore them, but it’s easier said than done. Their words dragged me down. And I couldn’t seek help because I was too prideful to acknowledge it.”

Although those times were rough, Akira smiles when he remembers them.

It’s all because of the friends he made. He never mentioned how he felt, but Ryuji and Ann still acted in their own caring way. Ryuji would directly call their classmates out, while Ann would check in to ask if he was okay. And although they didn’t confirm anything, Akira wonders if their suggestion to eat lunch on the school’s rooftop was another way of protecting him.

“What made it easier was having friends I could rely on. They didn’t believe the rumors and defended me whenever the opportunity arose. We can’t easily change people’s opinions, but we can choose who we focus on. I’m sorry for what I said earlier. I didn’t mean to act condescending towards you, I just wanted you to know you have someone on your side.”

Slowly, the tension fades from Akechi’s body. His shoulders slacken and he lets his arms rest back on the table. “No, I should be apologizing for my baseless accusation,” Akechi murmurs.

“Don’t worry about it.” Akira accepts the apology easily. He remembers his own muddied emotions when dealing with the public’s disdain. Speaking of which…

He points to the hateful message. “May I take this note back to its proper place?”

Akechi narrows his eyes, puzzled, but ultimately gives the go ahead. Akira grabs the paper, crumbles it into a ball, and throws it into the trash.

“As your esteemed secretary, I have placed this opinion where it belongs. If there are any others, it would be my honour to dispose of them as well.” Akira bows as low as he can while still seated, nearly surprising himself with how ‘Joker’ the action is. As he raises himself up, he feels his lips pull into a playful smile, unable to maintain his composure.

It looks like Akechi can’t either. He lets out an ugly snort, covering his mouth to muffle himself. However, his shaking shoulders betray his amusement.

“You are ridiculous,” Akechi says, nearly doubled over in laughter. “How do you keep acting outside of my expectations?”

Akira leans back and lets his smile widen. “Maybe I am trying to keep you on your toes, Detective.”

“If that’s your aim, I can say with confidence you are succeeding.” Akechi, finally recovered from his laughing fit, brings his hands together to let his chin rest casually on them. The tension from before has fully disappeared, making Akechi seem much more relaxed much to Akira’s relief.

“Though the biggest surprise was your willingness to divulge personal information on your own accord. Usually I need to pry those details with a crowbar and a battering ram.”

Akira shrugs. “I guess I’ve gotten more comfortable with you. You are the only one I have told so far.”

“Oh?” Akechi perks up with the smile of a shark. Akira freezes, his instincts screaming at him to escape any way he can, preferably the door.

“Could you perhaps expand on that statement? I’m curious as to how I have earned the honour of being your closest confidant.” Nevermind, Akira would take the window if it means getting out of this conversation.

Akira twirls a lock of hair with his free hand, suddenly finding it difficult to look Akechi in the eye. He didn’t even realize how odd his offhand remark sounded. How did Akechi become the person he trusted the most? Surely he should exercise more caution towards a Detective who is blindly trying to arrest him, but somehow he has consistently broken through Akira’s defenses.

“It’s just… you know. You’re…” Oh god, Akira can’t do this. He is certain he is about to combust, that whatever tumbles out of his mouth will shatter his entire worldview. He needs a distraction. “Hey, I actually made you something.” No! Wrong distraction!

“You did?” Akechi asks, his leer replaced with a baffled expression. Akira blinks, also surprised but for an entirely different reason. To think his weakest deflection to date would actually work… Well, he isn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth.

Steeling his resolve, Akira nods and slowly grabs the dreaded packages from his bag. He places them down on the table, acutely aware of how intensely Akechi is staring at them.

“Boss taught me how to make curry and coffee. You barely have time to make yourself lunch, so I thought I could help with that. Think of it as thanks for, well, everything.” He proceeds to unwrap the boxes for both of them, displaying the contents out into the open and letting wisps of steam waft into the air.

By the time Akira is finished, Akechi still hasn’t moved a muscle, his focus is firmly on the box in front of him.

Akira waits, but every second has him feeling more concerned. The nervous butterflies in his stomach are preventing him from doing anything but watch for Akechi’s reaction. Why hasn’t he made any moves or said anything? Is there an issue? Maybe he is having trouble thinking of how to turn Akira down… “Akechi? If you don’t want it--” This is what finally breaks the statue from his daze.

“No!” He yells, yanking the bento towards himself, almost cradling it in his arms. Akira blinks in surprise. “You made it, and I accepted it, so it’s mine.”

There is something so petulant in Akechi’s demeanour: from his childish words to the way he is clutching onto the box like a kid with a stolen cookie jar. It instantly eases all of the worries Akira had.

“You know food is meant for eating, right?” Akira laughs, relieved. He lets his head rest on one of his hands, grateful to see his gift being cherished.

“It would be impolite of me to disregard the arrangement,” Akechi sniffs with a disgruntled expression. He picks up his spoon and delicately scoops up a portion of rice and curry. Bringing it closer to his face, He breathes in the flavourful aroma. Just from the scent, his eyes seem to pop out in delightful surprise.

“This smells exquisite. You mentioned your guardian taught you?”

“Yeah, I spent many nights in LeBlanc’s trying to get the recipe right.”

Akechi hums. “I’m impressed. I can’t imagine making an elaborate dish in such a small kitchen would be easy,” he says offhandedly, bringing his spoon up to his mouth. Akira can’t help but agree.

Since beginning this whole venture, Akira has been watching cooking videos on the internet during his commute. He enjoys the tips and skills he learns from these, but that doesn’t stop the envy he feels when he sees the smooth and spacious areas the chefs use.

If he ever wins the lottery (and no longer needs to buy PT stuff) the first thing he is getting is an apartment with lots of cupboard space and a kitchen island. Maybe fate will have mercy one day and grant him this opportunity in the future. He is certainly not above getting on his knees and begging for one.

“Yeah,” Akira muses, staring morosely at the school desk that has about as much space as LeBlanc’s countertop. “I would get on my knees for a large kitchen.”

*COUGH*

Suddenly, Akechi starts coughing uncontrollably. Akira jolts up, about to rush over to his friend, but Akechi raises a hand to stop him.

Eventually the coughing dies down, so Akira gingerly hands over his water bottle. He imagines that hot coffee would not be a good way to wash down whatever caused this.

“Are you alright? Did I make the curry too spicy?” Akira asks worriedly. Akechi drinks large gulps of water, panting shallowly.

“I’m… fine… It is delicious,” he struggles to say, setting the half-empty bottle down and taking another large spoonful of curry. It’s difficult to believe him when his entire face is still red. Akira silently takes note to reduce the spice for next time.

Still, Akechi continues eating, so Akira doesn’t say anything more. Although that first taste was concerning, Akechi doesn’t seem to have any problems with the remainder of the food, his face morphing into a pleased look. Satisfied with Akechi’s overall response to his gift, Akira relaxes and gets started on his own box. They sit in comfortable silence, both of them engrossed in the prospect of a full meal.

It’s easy to recognize how different this is from his usual lunches. While Akira enjoys the chaotic energy his teammates bring, there is also something nice about simply enjoying the other person’s company. It’s also not like the rare, quiet meals with his parents where no one has any words to say; this time he isn’t suffocating in the silence. Comforting and relaxing, Akira might not mind having more lunches like this in the future.

He sneaks a glance at his companion who is providing this enjoyable atmosphere. Akechi is still engaged in his food, and while there is no sloppiness to his movements, he is certainly going at it quicker than his normal eating habits. Though, perhaps Akira spoke too soon. When he squints, he thinks he sees a stain near Akechi’s mouth.

“Oh, you have a little something there…” Akira states, pointing at the corner of his lip. Akechi places down his spoon and frowns, taking a napkin to wipe over the lower half of his face. However, he completely misses the spot.

Akira giggles, amused at the sheer normality of Akechi having a curry stain. It’s also rather flattering to know his cooking is so good that perfect-mannered Akechi lost a bit of his control. Taking his own napkin and leaning forward, he gently holds Akechi’s face with one hand and brings the cloth to the spot.

“There you go,” he says after wiping the smudge, smiling softly. “Now there is the face everyone adores.”

Akira notes that Akechi’s pupils are so wide that barely any red peeks through. There is also a light flush on his dazed expression, making him appear not fully aware of reality. He opens and closes his mouth multiple times before he is able to speak.

“... I have a large kitchen.”

Akira knits his brows, confused. “Sorry, what did you say?” Akechi blinks and jumps out of his seat.

“Haha, I mean, I have a large ITCHING to get some work done. Haha. Sorry, urgent business, have to go--” Akechi says all of this in a single breath, packing his stuff aggressively.

“Akechi, is everything okay--” Akira tries to ask, but Akechi is already out the door.

Akira looks down at the now-empty side of the table. He hopes Akechi is okay. One ‘haha’ is concerning enough, two ‘haha’s is a sign of true distress. The President didn’t even have time to finish lunch.

While Akira would like to ask about what happened, he resolves to wait till later when Akechi is free. At least he took the bento box with him. Though he was in such a rush that this may end up his only meal. An apple and one box of curry are still not enough for one day, but it’s better than before.

Would Akechi be opposed to Akira making him dinner as well? Maybe Akira can offer when he learns more than one dish.

Sighing, Akira finishes up the rest of lunch and gets ready for his next class, trying his best to put the matter behind him.

Akira has trouble focusing, the faint sense of unease lingering throughout the day. Fortunately, Akira receives word from Akechi later that night.

Sherlock: Good evening Akira, I would like to apologize for leaving abruptly today.

Watson: Np, everything good?

Sherlock: Yes, it was a small emergency, but it has been sorted.

Sherlock: I actually wanted to reach out to you about your availability tomorrow at 2pm.

Sherlock: A work acquaintance gave me some tickets to an aquarium.

Sherlock: It’ll be a waste to let them go unused, no? Would you like to come along?

Watson: Sure

Chapter Text

Since school restarted, Akira spends his weekend mornings working at the maid cafe and leaves the afternoons for chores or his confidants. No one else reached out today, so he had no issues accepting Akechi’s invite.

*buzz buzz*

Well, no one reached out to him until now.

It’s a good thing he only silences his phone during class, or he might have missed the incoming message over the noise of the TV. A live interview with Akechi is wrapping up in the background of LeBlanc. According to the Detective, it is an attempt at doing damage control for his sudden decrease in popularity. He spoke about it with a tired edge, so it probably wasn’t his idea. He hopes Akechi isn’t over exerting himself.

That is why Akira is listening to the show: in case the host tries to drag Akechi further into the flames. However, it coincided with his morning shift, so he couldn’t see it from beginning to end. Luckily, he made it back in time to hear the final half. The interviewer isn’t trying to incite a negative reaction, and Akechi is handling the questioning well. He lets his focus slip during the closing notes, relieved that there is nothing he has to be concerned about.

Placing the plate he just washed on the dish rack and patting down his wet hands, he takes out his phone to check who messaged him.

Ann: Hey, you free today? Chilling at home so down to hang out!

Akira: Sorry, I have plans

Ann: Awww, no worries! Watcha doing?

Akira thinks for a moment whether or not to spill the beans here, but Ann has always been supportive of his friendship with Akechi, so he doesn’t see the harm in doing so.

Akira: Going to the aquarium with Akechi

The three little dots pop in and out of existence. Ann is typically a quick texter, so the prolonged holdup is a little concerning. Eventually, she does send out a single message.

Ann: OMW

Akira pockets his phone after that ominous text, a faint sense of unease running through his mind.

Maybe this was a mistake.

“I’M… gasp… HERE!” Ann bursts through LeBlanc’s door, rattling the walls with the force of her entrance. Her red face is reminiscent of the determination and exhaustion of a marathon runner.

Akira squints up at the clock and then back at her. “… I thought you were at home.”

Ann brushes back her sweaty bangs as she catches her breath. “I was.”

… Well that’s concerning. The commute from her apartment to here is a little over 30 minutes.

She got here in under half that time.

Whatever known laws of traffic or physics she broke, Akira can only hope there were no cameras in the vicinity.

“More importantly,” she continues, eyes roving over his form. “What are we working with here?”

“Huh…?” Akira replies dumbly.

Ann slaps her forehead. “Sorry, model brain. I mean-- what will you be wearing?”

Akira motions to his current outfit, which causes Ann to groan in distress. Akira tugs self-consciously at his unbuttoned white shirt. He didn’t think his clothes were this bad.

Ann strolls up and grabs Akira’s shoulders. “Akira, sweetie,” she coos. “There is nothing wrong with your clothes, but this is what you ALWAYS wear. Getting past the acquaintance stage doesn’t mean you should stop putting in effort in your appearance. Save that for overnight stays and lazy mornings.”

She gives him a light pat and then walks away to start aggressively typing into her phone.

“You are soooo lucky I am here. Hit me: when is the meet up?”

“Umm,” Akira stammers, faintly disoriented in the Ann hurricane. “2pm?”

Ann glares at the time that currently displays 12:28pm. “And you will need at least 26 minutes to get there, and an additional 10 in case of delays. So we only have 56 minutes. It’s tight, but you are already very pretty--and pull off disheveled casual well--so we can make this work.”

She stuffs her phone in her bag, takes his arm, and drags his confused self out the door.

“To the mall!”

The next half hour is practically a blur to Akira. Every step Ann takes moves them towards a clear objective only she is privy to, leaving Akira stumbling after her like a toddler in the middle of rush hour.

On the way there, she asks him about his budget, sizes, and style, so at least he knows she isn’t going to force him into something outrageous. However, there are some questions he has no idea the answer to. What does being a summer or winter tone mean??

Whenever Akira goes clothes shopping, the most important thing is price first and *vibes* second. He asks if it has something to do with his favourite season. All she does is look at him with pity and state they would try out some jewellery to find out. Akira secretly hopes he is a summer person: he does not want to show up to the aquarium in winter gear.

Turns out he is a winter, but instead of winter jackets, Ann motions him to try on some dark-coloured clothing in various styles. Most of them look fine to him, but she is stricter than a drill sergeant and vetoes nearly every item.

After what feels like hundreds of options, she seems pleased by the last outfit and immediately helps him purchase it. The final cost doesn’t make much of a dent in his wallet, so he doesn’t feel too badly about dipping into the PT budget for this.

After a quick stop for some accessories, he gets pulled into a makeup store.

This part brings his nerves up to an eleven. As Ann starts testing different shades of foundation and noting every item they will need, Akira deliberates whether he should mention his well-stocked hoard. He hasn’t portrayed himself as someone who typically cares about his appearance, so it would probably seem weird for him to store cosmetics under his bed. But he knows that these items aren’t cheap. How can he let his pride get in the way of his team’s well-being?

Eventually, the need to save money wins out.

“AC1 looks to be a good match. What do you think?” Ann asks.

“Actually… I already have foundation,” Akira murmurs self-consciously, pulling at a loose thread on his shirt. He waits for the judgment, the questions, but instead, all he gets is a surprised blink.

“Really? That’s great!” Ann cheers happily, uncoiling the fear in his chest. “I had no idea you were into this stuff. We HAVE to have a spa night later, okay?”

Akira can’t speak beyond the lump in his throat, so he answers with a jerk of his head. She smiles back and goes on to question what he has so that they can focus on what is missing. While the foundation is an easy thing to skip, stuff like natural toned lipstick and eyeshadow need to be added to their cart. It turns out there are quite a few differences between masculine and feminine makeup.

With their list fulfilled, they head back to LeBlanc with 25 minutes left to spare.

Akira inspects his reflection in the mirror, turning himself every which way to judge the look from various angles.

He’s got to hand it to Ann: the outfit works REALLY well. A black shirt is framed by a loose dark blue sweater that barely hangs off his shoulders. His jeans have been replaced with wrinkle-free slacks and a silver necklace hangs from his neck, the simple ring at the center acting as the main focal point. Finally, a touch of asymmetry is added by tucking his shirt to the side and including a black belt that hangs loosely on the other.

Akira agrees with most of the pieces, but there is one part he doesn’t really get.

“Are you sure these aren’t too much?” Akira asks, motioning toward the long clip-on earrings. He tilts his head slightly, watching the loose silver sparkle as they dangle in the air.

“They aren’t at all! I know they are not what you are used to, but they complete the look,” Ann reassures him.

“Indeed, the flowing chains give a unique sense of elegance to your youthful appearance. You would be remiss to discard them,” Yusuke explains, one eye closed and his fingers framing Akira’s form.

“For once, Inari is right. They are a key accessory that grants +10 style points.” Futaba nods sagely, munching on some lobster chips. Yusuke makes a grab for one, but is denied by Futaba’s outstretched hand.

“If Lady Ann says they’re needed, then they are!” Morgana enthusiastically chirps, never straying his heart-filled eyes from the lady in question. The next second he tilts his furry head in confusion. “Though, I don’t know why he needs to be dressed up for an aquarium…”

His musing goes unanswered as Ann busies herself with taking inventory of their shopping spree and Futaba and Yusuke begin fighting over the bag of chips.

Ann invited Futaba and Yusuke as ‘support’. When asked why these two specifically, she said that Makoto still hated Akechi’s guts while Ryuji both hated Akechi’s guts AND had no sense of fashion. Akira would disagree on that last point, but conceded to his friends’ distaste for the Detective.

It’s a bit sad thinking how his closest friends don’t get along, but he knows Akechi can be a bit of an asshole and that the dislike is mutual. Selfishly, Akira secretly hopes that they will slowly come to tolerate each other. It would be nice for everyone to get together for celebrations like New Years or birthdays, or graduations.

Akira blinks, wondering why he even thought of those last points. Most of the birthdays have already come and passed, and he won’t be here next year. Doubtlessly, everyone will be too busy with their own lives to focus on a long-distance friendship.

He can’t keep thinking of this place as permanent.

Shaking his head of his melancholic thoughts, Akira turns back to the mirror and stares critically at his head. The silver matches his eyes and gives a sharp contrast to his hair and clothes. He is starting to see his friends’ perspective.

He nods his head to Ann who jumps up and claps happily. “Great! Now take your glasses off. We need to do the final touches.” There is a scary glint in her eyes, but he knows better than to question her.

He lets her sit him down in a chair and start putting various creams and liquids in his hair. Unsurprisingly, trying to tame the bird nest on his head proves to be a struggle. However, two broken combs and half a bottle of gel later, Ann manages something and is satisfied enough to move on to his face. Akira tries to tell Ann that he can do the makeup himself, but she reaffirms that she has enough experience and wants to help out for his important meet up.

Just as she is working on his left eye, the doorbell chimes downstairs.

“Akira?” Akechi’s muffled voice pierces through the floorboards.

Ann and Akira snap their heads to each other in bewilderment.

“He is picking you up?” Ann asks, distressed.

“He is picking me up?” Akira echoes, equally distressed.

Ann looks back and forth between Akira and the stairs, teeth biting worryingly on her bottom lip. “I just need a few more minutes…” Quickly, she notices the ‘support’ team who have reached a tactile truce and are on their way to finishing their second bag of chips. “Oh! Can one of you run a diversion?”

“This would be a unique experience. I welcome the potential new perspective.” Yusuke agrees easily, wiping down his hands and standing up to make his way down.

His descent is slightly delayed by Futaba who clutches onto his arm tightly. “W-Wait, let me help too!” Despite her scared tone, she follows closely behind him.

“I’ll head out, not like I can say much to him,” Morgana yawns, stretching out and making his way to the window to probably find a good napping space.

Ann goes back to applying a cream over Akira’s face, while he ponders about whether or not this is a good idea.

“Should we stop her?” He asks, concerned over his newly-acquired little sister. She only just got used to the team, so he doesn’t want to put her into situations that could discourage her growth.

Ann frowns, in-tune with Akira’s worries. “She said she wanted to, so we should trust she that she is strong enough to take this step forward. She also has Yusuke, so it should be fine…?”

They both stay silent and listen intently. The conversation in the cafe, while faint, could still be heard if they strain their ears.

“Hello Kitagawa-kun, it’s been a while. I am surprised to see you here.”

“Good afternoon, Akechi. It has been some time. We are here helping Akira get ready for your outing.”

“I see, that is rather generous of you. And she is…?”

“T-That’s for me to know and for you to find out, buster!”

At Futaba’s dramatic introduction, Ann’s face goes pink, and she barely manages to hide a wince. Her hands start working even faster.

“She is Futaba Sakura, a dear friend of ours.”

“Is that so? How curious…”

A beat of silence, until the person Akira least expects speaks up.

“Sooo you’re the guy on the talk shows and commercials, r-right? And they pay you too?”

“It’s a bit embarrassing to admit, but yes. I do appear occasionally when the opportunity arises, and I am properly compensated for my time.”

There is some shuffling before Futaba speaks again.

“... I have pics of Akira cuddling with Mona in his sleep. They can be yours for the right price.”

“Oh?”

Akira really wishes he didn’t let Futaba go down there now. “Maybe I should go--” He says and attempts to stand up, but Ann forces his head back. “Not yet! I’m almost done.”

Akira has no choice but to stew in his distress. He can’t hear the lowered voices downstairs, so his imagination runs wild, envisioning the evil deal that is being completed at his dignity’s expense.

He wonders how Futaba even got those pictures: he thought she only had microphones in his room. He will need to talk to her about personal privacy, but that is a later problem. More importantly, how bad are these photos? Was he dishevelled and contorted in ugly positions? Did his sleeping clothes have any rips or stains he didn’t fix? Was Mona’s butt in his face? What if he drooled? Will Akechi see him drooling?!?

An appropriate amount of panic sets in as Akira counts down the seconds. The moment Ann is done, he chucks on his glasses and runs down the stairs two at a time. Alas, he is too late as he sees Akechi pocket his phone and pure satisfaction dripping from their wicked faces. Futaba is rubbing her hands and grinning like a madman, while Akechi is-- actually his smile isn’t all that different from his usual; Akira just automatically associates it with threats to his well-being now.

Akechi hones in on him the moment Akira reaches the last step. His eyes widen and his expression instantly morphs from sadistic glee to astonishment.

“... Oh,” he breathes, rendered speechless at Akira’s entrance.

Akechi’s eyes slowly roves up and down Akira’s body, making the object of his appraisal flustered. Undoubtedly, Akira is very used to Akechi staring, but it’s usually at his job. The average person would feel a unique fascination seeing the criminal they are observing in drag, which is what Akira assumed was the main reason, but this unabashed attention while he is still mostly himself is something new.

Is it possible that Akechi is staring for an entirely different reason?

Giddiness flutters in his stomach, and he can’t help the sudden desire to poke and prod.

Akira saunters towards the group, a pleased smirk playing at the edge of his lips. He stops a few feet away and tilts his head, aware of how Akechi is monetarily distracted by the swaying of his earrings.

“Cat got your tongue?” Akira teases. Akechi lets out a sound that is undeniably a wheeze, but Akira is unable to savour the moment for long.

“Hehe, this is perfect for my featherman RP,” Futaba chuckles in the background. Akira whips his head around, embarrassed to realize he is behaving this way infront of his friends. However, he quickly remembers her actions a few minutes prior and realizes he should probably address that first, granting Akechi some mercy.

She isn’t hiding behind Yusuke anymore, so she must have gotten comfortable in the short time they had. If only that camaraderie wasn’t forged upon Akira’s downfall.

Akira sends his friends a betrayed pout. “Was selling my photos necessary?”

“There is no need to be worried. I can confirm she received exceptional reimbursement for your captured form,” Yusuke says, incorrectly assuming Akira’s reason for being miffed.

“Futaba,” Akira deadpans to the mastermind. She trots over to him, putting on her best innocent expression.

“It’s--It’s for a good cause, I swear! The newest limited edition Pink Argus figurines have only 100 copies signed by Yukari Takeba herself. She is always away on secret business trips, so this is my only opportunity.”

The quivering lower lip and puppy dog eyes massively chip away at Akira’s resolve. Eventually, her pleading look wins out and he sighs. “Only this one time. No more selling my photos, okay?”

“Fiiiiine, but you are losing out on a great revenue source.” She puts her hand up to the side of her mouth and inches forward to whisper. “This guy can afford shelling out big bucks for SFW photos. Imagine what he would pay up as a sugar daddy.” Unfortunately, Futaba seems to have taken Ryuji as inspiration for her volume level, so her whisper can be heard across the room.

Akira feels a flush rise up to his cheeks. He turns desperately to Akechi, his last hope for mercy in this cruel, cruel world. Surely he would pay back his earlier favour, right? “Welp, it’s great you met my friends, but we should probably go.”

Akechi, who recovered from his previous stupor, simply smiles.

“There is still plenty of time before the aquarium closes. There is no need to rush, and Sakura-san has compelling ideas I would like to hear out.”

Akira wonders why he expected anything different.

“Thanks, but complimenting me won’t win my approval,” Futaba sniffs and returns her attention back to Akira, jabbing her thumb behind her. “His money is good, but are you sure you want to actually be with him? He looks like a vanilla pillow princess--” At the corner of his vision, the accused ‘Pillow Princess’ chokes. “--which, based on your search history, definitely doesn’t match your frea--” Akira slaps a hand on her mouth before she can finish that sentence.

“Pillow princess?” Yusuke chimes in, he turns his sorrowful gaze at Akechi. “I didn’t take you as a selfish lover, Akechi-kun. How unfortunate given Akira’s personal inclinati--” Akira reaches over to slap his other hand on Yusuke’s mouth.

Now that both of them are effectively muzzled, he sends Akechi, who is now as red as he is, a flat stare. “Now are we ready to go?”

“... Yes, we shouldn’t waste anymore time.”

Unwilling to wait around for Akechi to change his mind, or for his friends to say something else equally embarrassing, Akira grabs Akechi’s hand and hightails it out of there. He barely manages to hear Ann’s distant “Good luck! Stay safe!” before the door closes and they are racing down the street.

By the time they get to the station, they are slightly out of breath. It doesn’t help that September is holding onto the lest dredges of summer heat, adding to their sticky skin. Akira hopes his sweat isn’t ruining his painstakingly done makeup. He can already feel it on the back of his neck and between his palms… Palms which are still locked together with Akechi’s.

Finally cognizant of their position, Akira yanks his hand out and stares off to the side.

“Sorry,” he mumbles. He desperately wants to tug at his bangs, but is unwilling to ruin Ann’s hardwork. He wonders how he continuously ends up in situations where he and Akechi hold hands.

“It’s quite alright, I didn’t mind.” He hears Akechi reply.

“Really?” Akira asks, turning to his friend and bringing his voice down to avoid eavesdroppers “Aren’t you worried about being caught?” He knows they are unlikely to be recognized since Akechi is wearing his disguise and people tend to be willfully blind, but two boys holding hands draws unnecessary attention. The media would freak out seeing an unkempt Akechi being friendly with a criminal student. He doesn’t want this day to be ruined due to his carelessness.

Akechi frowns, considering, but before he can reply, someone stumbles into Akira’s back. Akira turns around to see two girls, one on the ground while the another runs towards them.

“Are you alright?” Akira asks, holding out a hand to the fallen highschooler. She looks up with a scowl on her face, but that quickly disappears when their eyes lock together. A steady blush colours her cheeks and she chirps up a quick “All good!” Akira knows he isn’t at fault for standing here, but he still feels a pang of guilt. Poor girl must feel embarrassed.

Taking his offer, she rises back to her feet. Her friend has finally arrived, equally as flushed.

“I’m glad,” Akira replies, sending them a small smile to hopefully alleviate the awkwardness. He isn’t sure if it worked though, because both of them turn an even brighter shade of red.

The one he helped starts twirling her locks, eyes darting from side to side. “I--ahh--”

Two things happen in rapid succession. First, Akira feels a familiar hand intertwining with his, and then the two girls’ eyes drift to look just past him, their faces instantly paling. It’s almost remarkable how quickly they go from deep red to paper white.

“--Thankssorrybye!” she squeaks out. She and her friend turn on their heels and begin speed walking away. However, before they get too far, Akira can hear a bit of their muttering.

“Always the hot ones batting for the wrong team--”

“--forget it, that guy was scary.”

Akira looks back questioningly at Akechi who only returns a sunny smile.

Unless someone stamped “criminal delinquent” onto Akira’s forehead, it is rather unlikely for two strangers to suddenly fear him at the exact same time. It's possible that Akechi did something, but--

“--That was a bit excessive,” Akira tells him, testing the waters to see if Akechi will confirm his theory. His friend hums, not looking the least bit contrite.

“I am unsure what you are referring to,” Akechi replies, stepping close enough for their shoulders to touch. “Still, it is rather fortunate that those girls didn’t overstay their welcome and impede our schedule. And returning to your original question--” Akechi tightens his grip, not strong enough to hurt, but firm enough for Akira to forget about trying to break free. “--I believe it would be best if we stayed together before making it to the aquarium. The weekend crowds can act as good cover, so the largest concern would be getting separated and lost. If I recall correctly, you aren’t very familiar with the city streets.”

Akechi may not have verified Akira’s suspicions, but the complete topic change does not leave much room for doubt. While Akira could try to dig in more, he can’t deny that he is glad they haven’t been delayed.

“That was months ago, and we took this subway line before.”

“Mmm, but you know what they say: better safe than sorry.”

“Which does not apply to fangirls or the media?”

“That is the purpose of the disguise.” Akechi then falters. His other hand tugs a part of his oversized grey sweater and he grimaces. “Though it has come to my attention that there are quite a few drawbacks as well. It’s regrettable I am unable to put the same effort as you did today on my appearance. I detest treating you like a secret mistress when you are anything but.”

Akira, strangely, is rather pleased to be regarded so highly. “Great to know I’m a step above a side piece.”

Akechi rolls his eyes, but there is an amused twitch on his lips. “Hard to be below a position that doesn’t exist. I haven’t the time, and it would be the one action more ruinous than actually dating someone.”

Akira’s smile falls as he recalls the pains Akechi’s celebrity status brought him during their first outing, Although Akechi earns quite a bit of popularity and prestige from his title of Detective Prince, he seems to face more barriers than benefits.

“Why are you a celebrity?” Akira asks. Akechi stares at the tracks, an odd emptiness etched on his face.

“At the start, my naive self enjoyed the recognition. Even though public figures are beholden to the whims of the people, I thought it would be worth being treated as more than a dirty orphan. But the masses are fickle, so it didn’t take long to realize the inherent worthlessness of their opinions.” Akechi squares his shoulders and lifts his chin, determination burning in his eyes. “I can’t say that I enjoy my status now, but it is a necessity. I need it to achieve my goal.”

“And that is?” Akira asks, wanting to know what is so important that Akechi would maintain a status he hates.

Akechi meets Akira’s gaze, a flicker of hesitation crossing his features.

“I apologize, but… I am unable to disclose my motivations at this moment.”

Akira nods, trying to not let the disappointment weigh down on him. He knows that the President has already opened up to him more than others in his life, and it is understandable he has secrets he wants to keep close to his chest. It helps to focus on the ‘at this moment’ part. Akechi may tell him someday, and Akira hopes he will be able to support him by then. For now, he won’t pry further.

He squeezes Akechi’s hand reassuringly, giving his friend a small smile. “If you achieve your goal, then you don’t need to be a celebrity anymore, right? So you can quit and live the life you want to.”

Right after he speaks, the train arrives at the station. The wind whips around them as the air is filled with the screeches of metal against metal. Akechi moves his mouth, but whatever he tries to say is overpowered by the noisiness of the station. However, Akira thinks he can just barely make out the words.

“I don’t know.”

Akira has never been to an aquarium. He saw glimpses of it in advertisements as a kid and asked his parents once if they could go. However, they weren’t interested and he was far too young to be going to the city alone. In the end, he forgot about it quickly. He had no real interest in sea life to begin with and just thought the families on the TV looked happy.

“Despite sharks being known as an apex predator, nearly 40% of known species are considered endangered or nearly extinct. This one here, the great hammerhead shark, is one of the critically endangered ones,” Akechi fluently explains with the competence of a tour guide. Akira nods, unable to contribute any insight of his own.

Whoever gave Akechi these tickets knew what they were doing. At nearly every exhibit, he would provide a brief introduction, reciting clear statistics and obscure facts without any notes. It started as a simple comment here and there, but he gained more confidence as the day went on, eager to spill his knowledge whenever Akira asked. It’s rather endearing seeing his passion for aquatic life. If Akechi could understand Morgana, maybe they could get along.

Or maybe he only memorized these facts the night before.

But that is a ridiculous thought, so Akira brushes it aside and focuses back on the sharks swimming overhead. These are the most exclusive tickets the aquarium has, so they have full reign over whatever activity is offered. They will for sure need to visit the sea lion petting exhibit and the penguin show before they leave. No way can Akira afford to spend nearly 30,000 yen here in the future.

“What about this one?” Akira points to another section where brown fishes with funny faces floated in their tank. Akechi grins and walks briskly to the exhibit as Akira trails close behind him.

“These must be fugu, a specific species of puffer fish. Don’t be fooled by their bland appearance-- they don’t match the pop culture interpretation of puffer fish with their lack of spikes, but that doesn’t mean they are any less deadly. Their ovaries and liver contain the deadly toxin tetrodoxin which can completely paralyze its victims, leading to them asphyxiating while fully conscious. These ones probably don’t contain this particular toxin unless the aquarium employees fed it the necessary bacteria, but the ones that do are often served in high end restaurants as a delicacy. They are very expensive because only chefs with a license are allowed to serve them. Since wrongly preparing them can lead to instant death, it is known as one of the top 10 most dangerous culinary delights in the world.” The words are spoken in a quick fevor, pure fascination oozing from his tone. This is the longest and most in-depth explanation so far.

Akira raises a brow, intrigued by Akechi’s investment in deadly fish. “You know a lot about these. Did you want to try them yourself?”

Akechi laughs and waves him off. “Not at all, I have no interest in risking my life for a fleeting status symbol.”

‘Then who did you imagine this for?’ Is what Akira wants to ask, but he gets distracted by the fish’s sudden movements. They must have appeared too threatening because the fugu they have been inspecting quickly flees out their sight and hides behind a sunken ship.

While the fishes are the main attraction, the aquarium clearly didn’t skimp out on the design of their tanks. This one in particular has a large fake ship with a broken hull stuck to the rocky floor, providing a cool little home for the puffers to explore.

“It reminds me of the Titanic,” Akira lightly remarks, entranced by how the filtered lighting gives the decor a ghostly feel. Amidst the coral and algae, it looks eerily similar to a human relic lost to the sea.

“Are you referring to the real-life disaster or the old American movie?”

“Both, but mostly the movie. I don’t really know much else about it.”

Akira raises his hand to touch the glass, which only enhances the feeling of separation. Much like a movie, he can only witness it but never affect it. Beside him, Akechi shifts closer.

“It isn’t very popular here, so I’m surprised you watched it. What is your opinion of it?” Akechi asks.

“I wasn’t a fan of the ending, but I liked the story,” Akira answers. Akechi is silent beside him, so Akira breaks his stare to glance towards his friend.

“Not a romance fan?”

Akechi re-adjusts his gloves and exhales. “It isn’t my favoured genre, but even among others in that category, the Titanic does not rank high on my list.”

Akira turns fully to lean on the glass, giving Akechi his full attention.

“Penny for your thoughts, Sherlock? What makes it worse than other romance movies?”

Akechi’s eyes narrow, his expression a mixture of disdain and contemplation. He shifts his gaze to the side. “It’s hard to understand the value of love given my… experience.” Akira’s breath hitches. Of course, Akechi is thinking back to his mom. “Lives have been ruined by this fleeting emotion, resulting in meaningless sacrifice. The stories that perpetuate how anything can be conquered through love have no basis in reality, and the Titanic happens to be the one of the worst offenders of this trope.”

Akira watches Akechi’s fingers flex and tighten, the worn leather crinkling from the pressure. “The two leads only knew each other for a few short days and yet they were convinced that they should be together despite all the reasons they could never work. In the end, one lost his life and any hope of seeing his dreams come to fruition for someone he barely knew. What would you call that other than a detrimental infatuation?”

“While I agree that their love story is short, I don’t think that devalues their feelings for each other,” Akira says slowly. “Love is more about effort than time. Some people click instantly and put in the work to resolve any obstacles. Some people can know someone for their entire life and still discard them at the first sign of trouble.” Akira thinks back to his hometown and wonders if he can still say he was loved.

Akechi spares him a quick glance, but Akira shakes his head. He rather not get into his family hang ups in a public area, and at this point it is a scabbed wound. He acknowledges he is much happier here. Akechi stares for a bit, but whatever he finds must suffice because he continues on the conversation as if nothing has occurred.

“It’s true that some people can’t recognize what they have and aren’t worth the air they breathe,” Akechi states, giving Akira a roundabout form of comfort and validation. It warms Akira’s heart. “But this particular situation was hopeless from the beginning. Jack was foolish to believe a rich girl with everything would find value in him.”

“But doesn’t the movie’s setting contradict that assumption? The whole story is told from Rose’s perspective over 80 years later. To that day, Rose still loved Jack and cherished the memories they spent together. The fact that she held onto the necklace that symbolized their bond is proof of that.”

Akechi scoffs. “That is precisely my point. Such devotion could only exist in fiction. In reality, Jack is a poor scoundrel: what could he offer that is worth a downgrade of her current lifestyle? He traded his life for someone who had far better options.”

“You lack a lot of faith in Rose,” Akira points out. “Who said she could only be happy living in luxury? Becoming middle class would be a huge adjustment, but maybe it would have been worth it. Jack brought her happiness her snobby fiance never could and made her feel seen for the first time. I would consider that worth the sacrifice.”

“It appears we are stuck speaking of hypotheticals,” Akechi shakes his head and sighs. “Though, I dare say your opinion is optimistic at best. I have met quite a few young ladies born into high class families through my networking events, and your interpretation is far from the norm. Your empathy for Rose may be blinding your judgement.”

Akira grins and bats his eyelashes, a devious plan forming in his mind. “Can you blame me? I think Rose and I have a lot in common. We both have status-obsessed parents, value genuine connections, and look great in dresses.” Akechi narrows his eyes, but doesn’t hesitate to take the bait.

“And I’m sure you are waiting for society’s unwanted to sweep you off your feet.”

Akira drops his voice to a low croon. “Oh absolutely. And I would also be down for being drawn like one of those french girls.”

Akechi’s breathing hitches, a pretty blush colouring his cheeks. Akira steps back and giggles, happy to have pulled one over the Detective. Akechi glares, but his annoyed appearance is diminished by his embarrassment.

“Diverting the argument with scandalous insinuations is rather low, Watson.”

“Unconventional is my style, Sherlock. All’s fair in love and--”

“Oh? Kurusu-san, is that you?” A familiar voice calls Akira’s name. He quickly turns around, shocked to see one of his confidants. He knows that he has a large network, but meeting one of them here is still a surprise.

“Shinya?” The elementary school student strolls up to them casually, one hand loosely in his pocket while the other hangs by his side. Shinya nods his head, though the action is more listless than usual.

“Didn’t expect to see you here. Are you on a date?”

Akira flushes. “Ah, actually I--”

“Hello, it’s nice to meet another one of Akira’s friends. May I ask for your name?” Akechi interrupts with a classic smile, getting close and placing a hand on Akira’s shoulder. Akira almost wants to scold him, since the Detective is supposed to be AVOIDING attention. Something is up with Akechi this weekend with how he is interacting with others.

Well, at least it is Shinya. He mostly has games, school, and family on his mind, so he probably won’t be able to recognize the mini celebrity. Thank god it isn’t someone gossip hungry like Ohya.

Akira sighs and gestures between the two. “Shinya, this is my good friend Tanaka. Tanaka, this is Shinya. He is the one who taught me Gun About.” Akechi’s eyes widen for a fraction of a second as he glances downward at the small Gun About Master, but he composes himself immediately with all the grace of a trained celebrity.

“Akira is a man of many talents. You must be quite skilled to have taught him,” Akechi says, his glib tongue being used in full force.

The technique is mainly for teenage girls and TV hosts, but Shinya isn’t immune to praise. He rubs his nose, a proud smile on his face despite his attempts at acting nonchalant. “Yeah, it was a lot of work--this guy could barely hold the controller properly at the start--but he is an elite player now, so no way he would lose to a casual.”

Despite being labeled a casual, Akechi laughs good-naturedly.

“Your efforts did not go to waste. He showed remarkable skill thanks to your guidance.”

The two of them chat for a bit about themselves and their opinions on Gun About, leaving Akira as a bystander to the conversation. Obviously, Akechi gives fake personal info to hide his identity, but it is still bewildering to hear him speak so easily. No wonder Satsuki-san believed Akechi’s lies without confirming with Akira. If he can put on an entirely new personality and life on the spot, he can fool just about anyone.

Eventually, the topic jumps to why Shinya is here. The kid sighs with the weariness of a war veteran.

“I’m here with my mom. She wanted us to do more stuff together on the weekend, but this wasn’t her best idea,” Shinya grumbles, kicking the floor with his foot. “Seriously, this place is soooo boring. It’s too dark to see anything, and all you do is stare at fish--I even passed by someone yawning! I don’t get why families want to come, or why couples are even here. It’s a terrible dating spot.”

Akira feels the hand on his shoulder clench. He looks at Akechi who is sporting a frosty smile, face almost carved in stone.

“While the aquarium isn’t the most stimulating venue,” Akechi starts, the beginnings of a strong dissent forming. “There is still a reason it is rated as the best dating spot in Tokyo three years in a row. There is a certain pleasure in learning about these rarely seen aquatic species at the visitor’s own pace. Additionally, the lack of outsider interference allows the couples to spend more time getting to know each other. This isn’t even getting into the beautiful architecture and design which is ideal for setting a harmonious atmosphere. Perhaps it takes a certain level of maturity to enjoy the pleasures this facility has to offer.” Oh no, Akechi is going full on passive-aggressive attack mode.

Unfortunately, Shinya doesn’t know Akechi well enough to perceive the older boy’s inner rage. Instead of being insulted, he gives Akechi a confused frown. “I mean, I guess it is nice and quiet, but it doesn’t have the right vibe. Looking at fish isn’t exciting, and aren’t dates supposed to be fun? What’s so grown-up about going to a place just cause other people said so?”

Akechi’s smile twitches, an invisible vein popping in his forehead. Before he can say another word, Akira jumps in to diffuse the situation.

“It was really nice catching up, Shinya, but we need to go before the sea lion exhibit closes.” Akira grabs Akechi’s arm and forcibly drags him away, not bothering to answer Akechi’s protests.

He takes it back. Meeting Ohya would have been less of a disaster.

Akechi regains his calm a few minutes after, though his eyebrows are still slightly scrunched up. Akira pokes at the wrinkles, causing the other boy to swat at his hand.

“What are you doing?”

“Trying to grab your attention. What’s got you so wound up?”

Akechi rubs between his eyes, but fails to alleviate the crinkle. He looks at his reflection in the glass, drops his hand, and lets out a deep breath.

“I suppose I let your friend’s words affect me more than I should. Although his opinion is factually incorrect--” Akira gives Akechi a flat stare that goes ignored. “--he does make a point about the aquarium not being the most invigorating activity. Did you want to come here, or did you only agree because I asked?”

Akechi shoots Akira a pointed look, and Akira knows he can’t fully lie here. “Its wouldn’t be my first choice…” Akira begins, causing Akechi to drop his face into his palms and groan. “But! I am enjoying my time here. I like spending time with you and hearing you talk about what you are passionate about. Don’t take Shinya’s words to heart. It is never a bad time if you are there.”

Akechi perks up from his hands. Red steadily rises from his neck and the cloud of despair above his head dissipates, but he is still frowning. He stands up straight and faces Akira with pure determination.

“While I appreciate the sentiment, this does not condone the fact I failed to account for your preferences despite it being one of the most important factors. Next time, I will ensure you enjoy more than my company,” Akechi declares with all the authority of a life or death challenge.

Akira’s cheeks feel warm, he hopes it isn’t obvious. “I look forward to it.”

Akechi nods, pleased his proclamation was taken seriously. He then blinks and sends Akira a questioning look. “Earlier, what did you mean when you mentioned my passion?”

Akira tilts his head, matching Akechi’s confusion. “Didn’t your coworker give you the tickets because you are really into fish? You knew so much...”

Akechi’s whole body seems to stiffen. His mouth forms a thin line and he glares at the tank as if it has personally offended him. Akira quickly connects the dots, causing Akechi to shoot him a wary stare.

“Don’t say it.”

“Hey, you didn’t know what I was going to say!” Akira protests, but he can’t wipe the cheeky grin off his face. “So how long did it take to memorize all those facts for little old me?”

Akechi grits his teeth and turns around, stalking away with pure indignation.

“Let’s just go to the damn sea lions.”

Akira laughs and jogs a bit to catch up to him, giving light-hearted apologies between snickers. Akechi doesn’t respond to them, but he does slow down enough for them to walk side-by-side, so Akira considers himself forgiven. Yes, the aquarium may not have been his first choice, but his day would be a lot worse if he weren’t here with Akechi.

They make their way through the rest of the facility uninterrupted. At the sea lion exhibit, a trainer teaches them how to interact with one. Through her patient instructions, both Akira and Akechi get to feed, play, and pet the large sea mammal. The smell of stale water and dead fish isn’t the most pleasant, but Akira calls it a good experience overall. He thinks the big guy is rather talented.

They even took a picture at the end. Although Akechi would disagree, Akira considers the photos to be top tier. More so Akechi’s photos. The sea lion was enamored with the President: getting up close and even laying its big head on Akechi’s shoulder, nearly overpowering the boy with its weight.

Akira wanted to make it his phone background, but Akechi threatened to make Akira’s sleeping pic his own background in retaliation. Akira considers this to be an excessive counter, since Akechi’s photo is objectively adorable while Akira’s could never come close to its level. Eventually, they concede to keeping their respective pictures in their private photo albums.

As fun as the sea lions were, they saved the best for last: the penguin show. There are so many little guys and the ring leader is incredibly enthusiastic about showing them off. Before he calls up a different penguin, he gives a brief rundown of their life and characteristics. Akechi leaves halfway to use the washroom, missing most of them. Which is a shame, because Akira’s favourite are the two gay penguins who have known each other since they were young and stepped up to raise an orphaned baby. No one can blame him for being teary eyed.

Afterwards, Akira meets up with Akechi outside the room and they go to whatever areas they missed. They decide to call it a day after seeing the entire facility and feeling the aches in their feet. As they walk through the gift shop, Akira stops and asks Akechi to wait for him outside. Akechi nods, giving Akira time to peruse the shelves himself.

He wants to give Akechi a gift. Although gift shops are a scam and he shouldn’t be supporting these capitalistic death traps, he still wants to go through with it. It would be a great souvenir, and it would be his first non-perishable gift for the President. To his surprise, other than yesterday’s meal, he hasn’t really given Akechi any gifts.

He gives all his other friends personalized items, but because of their initial relationship status of blackmailer and blackmailee, he didn’t treat Akechi as such. Things are a bit different now. While he won’t be constantly thinking of how he can best help Akechi, he would like to show his appreciation to his new friend.

Plus, it would be a good way to secretly give that unreasonable tip back.

Akira walks down the aisles, carefully inspecting all the overpriced goods. While he would like to buy something useful, it is proving to be difficult finding something of high enough quality for daily use. He can almost hear Akechi giving back-handed compliments about the unbalanced weight of the pens or the poor stitching of their shirts.

Eventually, Akira changes up his strategy and quickly finds a decent gift. After making his purchase, he heads straight to Akechi who is sitting at a table, keeping himself occupied on his phone. He looks up as he hears Akira approach and quickly pockets his device.

“Did you find what you were looking for?” He asks.

Akira beams and holds out the small gift bag, placing it on top of the table. Akechi’s gaze flits down before returning back to Akira.

“It’s for you. A little souvenir.”

His friend raises his brows, and then lets out an amused huff. “What a coincidence. It appears we had the same idea.”

He reaches towards an empty seat, revealing that it isn’t so empty after all. As he raises his hand, he produces the same gift bag but in a larger size. He places it infront of Akira, smirking as he takes in the other boy’s expression.

“When did you…?” Akira nearly asks, but stops as he replays the day’s events.

He would have noticed if Akechi returned to the shop or was carrying a bag large enough for this gift, so he must have bought it earlier and stored it in a safe place until now. Scanning his surroundings, Akira notices a sign leading to the entrance locker room. That would've been the prime location for the crime.

These lockers are most likely emptied every night, so Akechi couldn’t have visited here earlier in the week. Even this morning is unlikely, since he had a live recording just before their meeting. Thus, it had to be sometime between when they arrived and now. But they were together for the entire day. Well, almost the entire day that is, except…

Akira narrows his eyes. “During the penguin show,” he eventually states. Akechi rests his head on his hand, his smug expression only growing more smug.

“Precisely. It provided the ideal opportunity to slip away without your notice.”

Akira pouts, disappointed he overlooked that detail. “Should have realized your absence was suspicious.”

Akechi chuckles, his eyes crinkling. “Forgive me for taking advantage of your inattentiveness.”

“Apology not accepted. You missed the gay penguin dads, you know.”

“How unfortunate. I hope this gift can help you reconsider.”

Akira sits down and gestures to his gift. “It might, but only if you open yours first.”

Akechi nods and proceeds to carefully remove the crinkle paper. Akira waits silently, a spike of nervous jitters working to his hands. His gift is definitely less expensive than whatever Akechi got him, and he is starting to regret his improvisation. He hopes it is enough until he can get him something better for Christmas.

After a few long seconds, Akechi reaches inside and pulls out a keychain.

“It is a fugu…” Akechi mutters, holding it by the ring and letting the fish twist in the air. Akira nods, finally letting his desire to twist his hair win out.

“Yeah. Nothing was of good quality, so I thought something unobtrusive could work better. You seemed to like the puffer fish the most today.”

Akira doesn’t say anything more, momentarily entranced by Akechi’s reaction. Akechi is smiling softly, holding the silly little fish as if it is a priceless treasure. The comfortable blue lighting illuminates his features, highlighting the tenderness on his face.

‘Ah,’ Akira thinks, ‘so he can make that expression too.’

Stupidly, Akira wishes he had a photographic memory so he can brand this vision into his mind and look back on it for days to come.

“Thank you…It isn’t often that I am given such an attentive gift.”

Akira relaxes, letting out the breath he didn’t know he was holding. He doesn’t think his gift is so great, but Akechi doesn’t seem to be lying.

“I’m glad you like it,” Akira replies. Akechi clips the ring to his phone, admiring how it looks before staring at Akira expectantly.

Given the clear signal, Akira reaches for his bag. The first thing he notices is that it is light for its size, so it probably isn’t something like a book or wooden decor. He tilts the bag and removes the covering until he is able to reveal its true form.

“A penguin,” he breathes. It is an adorable penguin plush nearly the size of his chest. It is rather simple in its design with its pure black eyes and rounded beak, but that just adds to its charm. Akira hugs the plush, feeling the softness envelope his being.

He also hasn’t received an attentive gift like this in a while. He understands now why Akechi was so delighted by the fugu: just knowing someone paid attention matters so much.

“May I presume my gift is acceptable?”

Akira hugs the gift tighter and gives Akechi a grateful smile. “More than that… It’s great, thank you.”

Akechi’s shoulders lower, a sign he too was feeling a bit anxious about the other’s reaction.

“It was a risky gamble given I could only observe you for half the show and you hadn’t mentioned a fondness for plushies in our previous conversations, so I couldn’t be too sure if it met your standards. I feared it would be considered too childish.”

He then looks down at the plush with slightly narrow eyes. “Though I still cannot fully grasp why you like these creatures in the first place.”

“How can you not?” Akira gasps. “They are the most suave animals in the ocean. Also, they are black and white, THE best colour combination. Everything looks cute in black and white.”

Akechi’s brows knit together as he frowns, clearly unconvinced. He looks off to the side and Akira can just barely catch his muttering. “--ut it, Loki.”

“Akechi?” Akira asks, causing the other boy to startle and snap out of his musings. His distracted friend shakes his head and drops his irritation in an instant.

“Apologies, I was lost in thought. Shall we head back?” He stands up and offers his hand. It makes Akira feel like a princess at a ball, a comparison that fills him with amusement. He grabs the hand and gives his theatrical gratitude, causing Akechi to roll his eyes with a quirk of his lips. They head back, but despite jumping through different topics, Akira can’t disregard what Akechi said earlier.

Even for the Detective, jumping from penguins to Norse gods is a leap. Akira must have misheard earlier.

So why can’t he shake off the feeling that he is missing something…?

Chapter Text

“Yes! We’re here! Hawaiiiii!” Ryuji cheers, pumping his fist into the air and catching the attention of every stray vacationer in the vicinity.

“...I am SO embarrassed,” Ann mutters, turning away like she is trying to remove her association with the overly excited teenager. Ryuji, perhaps out of sheer optimism, doesn’t acknowledge her embarrassment. Taking big sniffs of the air, he sighs happily.

“Is this the smell of Hawaii?” He turns to ask Akira. “Actually, I’ve been wonderin’ since the airport, but what is that smell?”

Akira can’t do much other than shrug his shoulders, his sleep-addled brain lacking the braincells necessary to form a better response.

It’s their first official day in Hawaii. Although they didn’t have to get up too early, Akira’s energy levels were depleted from dealing with international customs and a 5 hour flight. He tried to get some rest on the plane, but was stymied by a ridiculous nightmare.

He dreamt of himself swimming in the ocean with Akechi and losing his trunks. Thanks to that terrifying scenario, he woke up in cold sweat, unable to calm his racing heart before the flight attendant announced their arrival.

Now, he finds himself zoning out and struggling to stay upright. Perhaps his exhaustion will help him get over his jet lag quicker, but he will have to suffer for the next few hours. It would take a volcanic eruption or 16 shots of espresso directly into his bloodstream to shock him out of his half-dead state.

“Whatever it is,” Ryuji says, undeterred and probably used to Akira’s non-response. “It's got me pumped! We should get to the best food places a’sap!”

Ann glares at him, stopping the energetic boy in his tracks. “Hold it-- it’s nearly 9pm here. There is no way our teachers will let us roam at night. Also, we’ve got to figure out room assignments first. We need our keys to go out, remember?”

Ryuji grins and proceeds to sling his arm around Akira’s shoulders. “That’s easy--I’m rooming with this guy.”

Akira doesn’t need more than one braincell to see the benefits of staying with a friend rather than someone he barely knows. The rumors may have died down, but his reputation never did shift towards anything really positive. He begins to nod, but stops when he hears a heavy, familiar sigh.

“You belong to a different class, Sakamato-kun,” his homeroom teacher says sternly. She walks up to their group with Akechi in tow. Seeing the President momentarily takes Akira out of his tired stupor, until he recalls why the older boy could possibly be on their second-year trip. Makoto did mention the school’s lack of funding and need for student chaperones… Now that reality makes sense again, he returns to being a passive observer of the conversation.

Kawakami has her arms crossed, unable to hide her displeasure at herding a bunch of rambunctious high schoolers. Meanwhile, Akechi is dutifully holding a clipboard with various forms and hasn’t dropped his pleasant boy demeanour. His gaze seems to harden when it passes over Akira and Ryuji, but that monetary break vanishes in an instant.

“I can’t?” Ryuji whines, his exaggerated jostling nearly toppling Akira over. Thankfully, Akira barely avoids a harsh splat to the ground by placing his hand on Ryuji’s chest and acting as a stabilizing force.

“I’m afraid so. It complicates roll call, which is a necessity for students who are too eager in their exploration,” Akechi replies, confusing Akira by how it sounds slightly strained.

Suddenly, a loud commotion rises in the background. Kawakami looks back, left eye twitching.

“For the love of--! Ugh, I need to see what’s happening over there. Can I trust you to finalize the room assignments, Akechi-kun?”

“Leave it to me.”

Receiving his confident affirmation, she lets out a breath of relief and goes to handle the other rowdy students. Akechi gives Akira and his friends a bright smile. Somehow, he appears unaffected by the full day of travel, not a single hair or crease out of place. What is this power and is there a book for it?

“As I was saying before, I’m afraid you two rooming together will not be an option.”

After Akechi reaffirms the rules, Ryuji removes himself from Akira to slump in disappointment.

“Awww, man…”

Ann grins cheekily at Ryuji. “Good luck. Bet you are going to have a tough time now that Akira is no longer an option.”

“Shaddup,” Ryuji grumbles, kicking the floor in a huff. “We both stick out like a sore thumb, you know. It ain’t going to be easy for you either.”

As if on cue, three girls stroll up to their group and ask whether Ann has a roomie. After hearing Ann’s denial, the girl infront offers to partner together and to explore the island with them throughout the week. Ann gives her cheerful agreement and then waves a quick goodbyes to the rest of them. “Well, see you guys later.”

Ryuji watches her walk away and scratches his head in bewilderment. “You gotta be kidding me…”

Akechi loudly clears his throat, directing their attention back to him. “With her situation settled, we are left with you two. Unfortunately…” He thumbs through his papers and sighs dramatically. Wariness prickles in the back of Akira’s mind. “It appears you are the last ones left, so the rooms will have to be assigned.”

He turns to Ryuji passively. “Nishimiya-kun is the only boy in your class without a roommate, so you will be sharing with him.”

He then looks at Akira, his smile gaining teeth. “I’m afraid all your male classmates have already chosen their partners, so you will be staying with me.”

“WHAT?!” Ryuji yells.

Akira himself jolts. Sleeping in the same room as Akechi… He feels dizzy from the sudden pumping of adrenaline through his veins. Forget natural disasters or caffeine, Akechi can cause an energy spike better than any of those.

“How is that fair? You ain’t in his class either!” Ryuji argues, pointing an accusatory finger at the President.

Akechi’s expression loses its edge as he faces the angry student with a frown. “A rather astute observation for you,” Akechi drawls. “Unsurprisingly, you failed to consider that I am the student chaperone assigned to Akira’s class, thus making the issues with roll call irrelevant. Besides, the teachers have already approved of this arrangement.”

Ryuji sputters, downed by Akechi’s quick counter. He sends concerned glances Akira’s away, unable to hide his worry over him staying with the ‘asshole president’. After a few seconds, he perks up and speaks excitedly. “Oh! What about Mishama? He would totally room with you.”

“You haven’t heard?” Akechi interjects, a little too light-hearted and eager. “An even number of boys in Class 2-D were supposed to attend, but Mishima-kun cancelled a week before the trip. Given the school’s tight budget and my own lack of roommate, the most sensible course of action was assigning Akira with me. The administration were ever gracious that I was willing to be a more positive influence in his social life given its current state.”

The hidden insult hits its mark. Ryuji grinds his teeth, glaring daggers at Akechi who takes it as easily as a mountain pestered by howling wind. Just as he takes a step towards the smug President, Akira puts his hand out to stop him.

“It’s fine,” he tells his best bro. He then turns to address Akechi. “Please stop antagonizing him.”

Giving credit where it's due, Akechi closes his mouth and does not say anything further. Beside Akira, Ryuji falters. Hesitation bleeds into Ryuji’s voice.

“You shouldn’t have to deal with this jerk on your trip…”

Akira shakes his head. “Akechi and I are friends, so I don’t mind.”

“For real?” Ryuji asks, eyes widening dramatically. “I don’t get it, but guess it is alright then…”

“Excellent,” Akechi says, moving in a blink of an eye to Akira's side and placing a hand on his shoulder. “It’s getting quite late, so we should be heading to our lodgings now. Have a nice night, Sakamoto-kun.”

Akechi then directs them towards the hallway. Akira lets himself be led away, preoccupied with other thoughts.

Although Akira said it's fine, he can’t deny the slight nerves zipping through his mind. Akechi is a friend like Ryuji, but Akira’s reaction to partnering with them couldn’t be more different. He shakes his head, trying to dislodge the dissonance. It is probably because Akechi is a menace on a good day, that’s all. Akira already spends so much time with the President. How much worse could rooming with him be?

“Akechi.”

“Yes, Akira?”

“You said the teachers approved of this assignment.”

“That I did.”

“So why is there only one bed?”

After Akechi ushers them inside their assigned room, Akira takes one look at the arrangement and freezes in his tracks. The field trip form explained that students are to partner up and that each room will have two twin beds, allowing individual sleeping areas. However, that is not what greeted Akira, nor is that the most disconcerting thing about it.

Akira closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, and re-opens them. Nope, this is not a sleep deprived hallucination. Everything is still here.

Feeling a headache forming, he takes off his glasses and rubs between his eyebrows, trying to sort out his thoughts.

First of all, in the middle of the room is ONE queen size bed, not two smaller ones.

Secondly, Akira may not be completely familiar with the Hawaiian aesthetic, but he thinks there is some incorrect decor here: the bed is shaped like a heart, their towels have been folded into two large swans with their beaks pressed against each other, and there are rose petals scattered across the bed sheets–just to name a few.

“Oh, dear,” Akechi pipes up behind Akira. “There must have been a mistake when the school exchanged my single room for a double. How unfortunate.” Akira sends Akechi a flat stare, and only receives wide innocent eyes in return. Akira isn’t fooled. He would sooner believe in the genuineness of Akechi’s distress if he heard it from Inaba’s gossipy old ladies.

He forces his legs to move and walks deeper into the valentines themed area. When he reaches the side table, he picks up the embroidered name card laying there.

‘Congratulations Mr. and Mrs. Akechi’ is written in golden, curly letters.

“How did this happen?” Akira asks, waving the offending paper.

Without missing a beat, Akechi replies, “Human error can be terribly disastrous. Combine that with the last minute nature of the change and the lack of quality controls within our trip committee, I’m afraid this is the natural result.”

They stare at each other for a few seconds, but Akechi is unwilling to budge on his explanation. If this is the school’s fault as Akechi seems to imply, then who knows how long it will take or what it will cost to fix this. He doubts the school will be very sympathetic to his plight.

Akira takes a deep breath in and out. He is too tired for this.

“I will take the couch,” he eventually says.

“Nonsense,” Akechi immediately rebuttals. “The bed is big enough for the two of us. There is no need for one of us to suffer due to another’s mistake. Although…” Akechi’s face morphs into his kicked puppy expression. “If you are truly uncomfortable being near me, I insist that I take the couch. After all, I did assist the school faculty in planning this trip, so this oversight is partly my responsibility.”

Akira shifts awkwardly. He knows he is being manipulated, but he still feels guilty at the thought of making his friend deal with a week’s worth of back pain due to his own shyness. Akechi is right: the bed is big enough for two teenagers to have ample room between them. Also, they are friends and both guys, so it shouldn’t be a problem…

“... No, we can share. I call dibs on the left half of the heart.”

Akechi chuckles. “That will not be a problem for me. Thank you for being so accommodating.” He lifts up his clipboard and taps it with his other hand. “I have to hand in the room assignment sheets to the teachers, so you may use the bathroom first”

Akira simply nods, setting his stuff down near his side of the bed. After saying a quick goodbye to Akechi, he grabs one of the swans plus his pajamas and heads straight to the shower. The warm water is exactly what he needs after this rollercoaster of a day. It seems to wash away all his built up stress, making him feel a lot more comfortable and sleepy. After he is done, he steps back into the empty room. Akechi still hasn’t returned.

After only a few moments, Akira shivers, the air conditioning piercing through him like an ice attack. LeBlanc doesn’t have centralized AC in its attic, so he’s gotten used to the hot humid nights. That adaptation is biting him in the ass now, making him totally unequipped for modern day comforts. He quickly places the remaining swan on the dresser, swipes off as many petals as he can, and dives underneath the covers.

The bed is incredibly squishy, making him feel like he is sinking into a cloud. Even though this is very different from what he is used to, he quickly begins to warm up and relax. Turns out a squishy heart-shaped bed is still better than a thin mattress on top of milk crates--even if he prefers a firmer surface. The reminder of what he is resting on has him frowning. He grabs his phone from the night stand and opens his messages.

Akira: heard you cancelled?

Mishima: Whoops, I forgot to tell you. I won a concert ticket to see B-Komachi! It's a front row seat and backstage pass.

The band name unravels a specific memory in Akira’s mind. He remembers Mishima talking about that idol group during one of their hangouts. Apparently they are super popular with both normies and weebs alike. Their shows are constantly sold out.

Akira: congrats

Akira: too bad it coincided with the trip

Mishima: Thanks! It was a hard decision, but for a seat this good I couldn’t miss out.

Akira: are the tickets hard to get?

Mishima: lol yeah, they are super expensive. I wouldn’t have a chance if I didn’t get lucky. I don’t even remember what lottery I entered to get this.

That last sentence doubles Akira’s unease, but he doesn’t dare voice it.

Akira: nice, have fun

Mishima: Thanks! You too 😀

Akira sets his phone back on the table, mulling over his text conversation.

This… This has to be a coincidence, right? He usually spends time with Mishima outside of school, so Akechi would need to stalk Akira throughout the day to know that Mishima is the only male classmate that bothers to talk to the new delinquent. Even then, he would need to research and correctly determine what Mishima would be willing to drop the Hawaii trip for. There is no way Akechi would spend that much time and money just for the opportunity to room with Akira.

But if he did… That would be crazy, manipulative, desperate–-

Akira’s cheeks flush involuntarily, his heart skipping several beats. No person or not-cat is here to judge him, so he turns his face into his pillow to smother his embarrassment. He is insane for thinking Akechi is that deranged, he is insane for liking the idea of Akechi being that deranged. Oh god, there is something wrong with him. His tiredness must be messing with his normal thought processes.

Forcibly willing the thoughts of the situation and Akechi away, Akira closes his eyes and drifts off into sleep.

Consciousness returns to Akira in waves. First, he notices how the rays of sunlight peek through his closed eyelids, informing him that a full night has passed. Initially, he is tempted to open them with the expectation of a fun vacation day with friends, but he is subdued by how comfortable and content he feels. The blanket cocoons him in a thick ball of warmth, and he finds himself clinging onto its thin fabric in an effort to preserve its heat. When he takes a breath, instead of inhaling cat hair, spider-webs, or dusty air, he is met with the fresh scent of sea salt and pine.

He sinks into the coziness, burrowing against the firm, lumpy pillow. It provides a steady rhythm that lulls Akira back into the dredges of sleep.

… Wait–

Akira knits his brows, a small voice in his head telling him that something about this situation is off. Now that he is listening to it, he thinks back to the night before. He faintly remembers the hotel’s bed being soft, and pillows shouldn’t move…?

Akira snaps his eyes open, crashing headfirst into the waking world. The moment he realizes what is happening, he almost wishes he retained his ignorance.

The reason he feels so secure is because there is an arm wrapped around him, pulling him into a strong embrace. His legs are also being held captive, tangled as they are with another’s. But he can’t even consider himself a victim, because the fabric he is clutching onto and half laying on is in fact someone else’s shirt, implying that his unconscious self is at least partially to blame for this shameful position. As bad as everything he listed is, probably the biggest issue is that his pillow is not in fact a pillow, but someone’s toned chest.

And that person is Akechi Goro.

He is cuddling with Akechi Goro.

‘ADSJAKDLFWHATTHEFU–!!’ Akira thinks eloquently. It takes every bit of his willpower to not flail like a spooked kitten.

He locks his limbs and holds his breath, scared to let out too large of an exhale in case it wakes up his still slumbering companion. Eventually though, the need for air wins out, so he tries desperately to keep his breathing steady and slow.

‘Calm down,’ Akira wills himself. Panicking won’t do him any good–not if he wants to escape without Akechi noticing.

Slowly, he releases his fingers from Akechi’s shirt and eases his arms back. He doesn’t even get an eyelash flutter in response, giving him the confidence to keep trying. The next are his legs. He has to bend them at weird angles to undo their entanglement and needs to stop every few seconds when he receives a shift from Akechi in response, but he does eventually manage to separate them. He lets out a silent sigh of relief.

Okay. The last thing is himself.

He reasons that he can slip under Akechi’s arms and flee through his side of the blanket. However, unlike his previous strategies, this turns out to be a mistake.

Unconscious Akechi is unhappy with losing his prize. When Akira begins shifting down, Akechi lets out an annoyed grumble and tightens his hold. Akira ends up further crushed to the sleeping boy’s chest, and, to his horror, Akechi decides to do this by reaching down and hoisting Akira back up. A hand now rests firmly on Akira’s waist, the pinky teasing the edge of his sleeping pants.

In an instant, Akira’s heart quickens and his whole body flushes. It's as if he was just given a warning, like Akechi is threatening to put them into an even more compromising position if he dares to move any further away.

He does not want to risk that hand going any lower.

However, there is no time to think of another escape plan, because he feels Akechi stir: a sign he is about to wake up. Immediately, Akira shuts his eyes and keeps his breaths shallow, pretending to be asleep. Now with darkness surrounding his vision, he has to rely on his other senses to grasp Akechi’s reaction.

His friend lets out a large sigh, bringing his arms back to his body. For a beat, there is no movement, but with the hair on Akira’s neck rising, he knows Akechi is watching him. Akira continues his charade, willing to play the long game.

Eventually, the sheets shift and Akechi takes Akira’s head to gently place it back on the pillow. His touch doesn’t fully leave, trailing down to cup Akira’s face as a thumb softly traces his lower lip. The anticipation of what Akechi might do next causes Akira’s heart to race faster than any palace-collasping escape. But eventually, Akechi retreats, the bed dipping as he moves to get up. All that is left is the sound of slippers pattering away and the opening and closing of the bathroom door.

Akira waits for what feels like centuries. When he hears the shower turn on, his eyes snap back open. He has the foresight to grab his glasses, room keys, phone, and swim trunks, but doesn’t risk wasting anymore time here. With his necessities on hand, he sprints out of the hotel room without looking back.

Ryuji is an early riser, so with a quick text asking to use his bathroom the other boy instantly sends his room number and a thumbs up.

He ends up at Ryuji’s door breathless. When his bro jokes that he would have joined Akira on his run if he knew, Akira laughs sheepishly and accepts the excuse. He goes on to explain that he forgot his keys and Akechi wasn’t answering the door, which Ryuji believes easily enough.

The hotel’s free toiletries and towels provide a good enough substitution for the hygienic items held hostage by a showering Akechi. With his morning breath solved, he shrugs off his sweaty sleeping clothes and heads into the shower, letting the warm jets wash flood his senses. Unfortunately, he only brought his old swim trunks, so that is what he will be wearing for the rest of the day.

Thank god Ryuji didn’t question why Akira would run in his sleeping clothes or bring only his swimsuit and phone along.

Nothing could pry the truth from his mouth. Akira himself doesn’t want to acknowledge it–the desire bang his head into a wall until he develops amnesia looking far too tempting. He knows neither himself or Akechi are at fault for their position given that both of them ended up that way in their sleep, so it shouldn’t be too big of a deal.

Except it is for Akira. His thoughts are going amok, the mere recollection of this morning causing heat to flood his cheeks and his thoughts to lose all rationality.

All his mind wants to do is replay those events over and over again, trying to recall every small detail and feeling of those moments.

Akira swears he isn’t a touch-deprived pervert. It’s just that this is with Akechi.

Akechi doesn’t do normal physical contact with people. The President has always remained utilitarian with his touches, whether that be hand in hand to guide Akira somewhere, a hand on shoulder to show friendliness infront of others, or bringing Akira close as a form of protection from harassers. Every occasion had some sort of meaning, something to be gained. That is why Akira never really thought much about it.

Except this time. What could Akechi gain from this?

Akira puts his head under the shower’s current, letting the sharp stream pummel his face before moving back and shaking the loose droplets off.

Maybe he is being too sensitive. If this morning happened with any of his other friends, he would probably laugh it off and forget about it. Akechi doesn’t always act like a criminal mastermind. Even Akira can’t accuse a person of plotting in their sleep, no matter what his paranoia is trying to convince him of. Perhaps it's his own fault for overreacting and trying to find a deeper meaning into Akechi’s every action. After enough time, surely this won’t be causing Akira such mental distress.

As he exits the shower, he sees his phone light up with a new notification. After properly drying himself off and wrapping the towel around his waist, he casually checks to see who texted him.

Sherlock: I am alone right now.

The moment he reads the first message, he shuts it off, not bothering to glance at what was sent afterwards. He decides there is no need to look at his phone or seek out high school detectives for the rest of the day.

“Hey, over here!” Ryuji waves his arm, calling out to Ann in the distance.

She whips her head around a few times until she spots them, face instantly lighting up as she hurries towards them.

“There you guys are! Feels like I was looking around forever.”

Ryuji groans. “That should be our line. What took you so long?”

“You were texting at 7am in the morning,” Ann counters. “Who gets up at that time on vacation? Plus…” She places a hand on her hip and flips back one of her pigtails. “There is still a lot of work to make a swimsuit look good, you know.”

Akira glances at her ensemble and then keeps his line of focus on her face. She is wearing a multi-coloured bikini that seems to match both her straw bag and the flower bracelet on her left hand. While the coordination shows a remarkable understanding of style, that obviously isn’t the main focal point. She isn’t a model for nothing.

Ryuji’s eyes laser focus onto her body as he crosses his arms in consideration. “You’re pretty impressive, but compared to the foreign ladies… eh.”

“Then stop staring!” Ann shouts, glaring daggers at the ogling teenager.

Ryuji turns towards Akira for support. “You think so too, don’t you? Like, the ladies here are MASSIVE compared to the girls in Japan.”

Akira lets the sunlight’s glare reflect off his glasses, unwilling to look at Ryuji’s eager expression and Ann’s waiting glower. After months spent fighting for his life, he knows this isn’t a battle he can win. Time for evasive maneuvers.

“I dunno… Speaking of girls, has anyone heard from Makoto?”

“Oh right!” Ann gasps, successfully distracted from her previous irritation. She reaches into her bag and grabs her phone, quickly opening up her chats. “I texted her to see if she wanted to eat breakfast together, but she replied that she is busy with chaperone duties and may not be available till the afternoon.”

Upon hearing that update, Ryuji winces. “That sucks. And here I was jealous that the third years could experience this trip twice.”

Akira nods in agreement, though a small part of him is relieved as this means Akechi will likely also be busy today. He isn’t ready to see his accidental cuddling buddy. And definitely NOT in a swimsuit.

“So-–” Ryuji continues, saving Akira from a devastating mental image. “Makoto is out, Futaba and the furball are at home, and Yusuke is somewhere in the USA. It’s too bad neither Futaba nor Yusuke go to Shujin. They would have loved this place.”

“Indeed, overseas travel provides a great opportunity for new insight.”

“Yeah, still don’t have any idea what you are saying, Yus–” Ryuji jumps in shock. “Yusuke?!”

Ann and Akira whip their heads behind them, shocked to see a wild Yusuke casually standing there in summer wear with his hands full of exotic goods. Akira must have been too engrossed in his thoughts to notice.

“W-What are you doing here?” Ann asks, voice warbling from surprise.

Yusuke gives her a troubled look. “Apparently they couldn’t land the plane due to a terrible storm brewing on the west coast. There were no signs of it letting up, so our destination was changed on the spot to Hawaii.” He gives a small sigh before regaining his calm. “Though unexpected, I intend to fully embrace the new sights this beautiful island has to offer. This morning has been a fascinating adventure, but I remembered that there is much to gain by experiencing these moments with others, so I made my way here.”

“That’s great and all, but uhh… whatcha got there?” Ryuji questions, staring warily at Yusuke’s items.

Yusuke raises his right hand. “A coconut.”

“I mean the damn lobster!”

“Oh.” Yusuke lowers his hand and instead holds up the swaying crustacean. “I passed by a vendor selling them and thought this foreign specimen could provide a fresh perspective, so I bought one.”

Akira observes Yusuke’s unique purchase. It doesn’t seem too keen on being carried around if its attempts at wiggling for free are anything to go by. It is a good thing its claws are clamped together with rubber bands, so he doesn’t have to worry about his free-spirited friend getting pinched. That leaves the main concern left being the yen to USD conversion rate…

“Want to join us for lunch?” Akira asks.

“With my current funds, I fear I may hold you back…”

“My treat.”

The eternally broke highschooler regains his energy immediately. “Then I will gratefully accept your generous offer.”

Ryuji shakes his head at their exchange. “Dude… You need a job or better spending habits. Is that coconut the only actual food you bought?”

“I shall look into acquiring an occupation when I return,” Yusuke nods, seeming genuinely invested in the idea. “Ah, but onto your question: I did not buy this item. It was gifted to me by a genuine fortune teller.”

“A what?” Ann asks, eyes wide in confusion.

“A fortune teller. During my exploration, I was struck by misfortune when my phone died and I could no longer direct myself to your location. Thankfully, a kind lady used her extraordinary abilities to foresee my plight. She provided valuable directions, including a few complimentary items.”

“Didn’t know Hawaii had psychics,” Ryuji remarks as Yusuke cradles his drink (thankfully not the lobster) with his arm and uses his now free hand to rifle his pockets.

“Neither did I, but this encounter has greatly improved my understanding of this island’s inhabitants. Her otherworldly presence and hidden wisdom spurns an artist’s creativity like no other. Aha-–” Yusuke says, taking out three blue envelopes. “When I had mentioned wanting to reconnect with my friends, she bestowed these fortunes as welcoming presents.”

The Shujin trio share a wary glance before they each take one of the packages. When Akira brings it up into the sunlight, he notices a familiar silver marking etched onto the paper.

That’s odd. He thought the velvet room tarot cards were a unique design.

While Akira contemplates the chances of Igor gaining inspiration from a Hawaian native, Ryuji is turning his envelope every which way, frowning at it with suspicion. “Dude… A vendor giving out free stuff sounds shady as hell.”

Ann hums understandingly, but looks more contemplative than skeptical. “Maybe it's a way to attract customers? Like a free sample? It couldn’t hurt to read what it says, since it's not like we know who or where she is.” She proceeds to be the first one to rip open the sealed top and take out the card inside.

“Perseverance in the face of overwhelming stupidity and obliviousness is the key to success… This is good, I think?” Ann says with a healthy dose of doubt. Hearing what was written has Akira blinking as Ryuji’s jaw drops.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean? Okay, what does mine say…” Ryuji reveals his own card, squinting to read it. “Love isn't something you find. Love is something that finds you when you are mature enough to see it... Is it calling me immature?!”

Ryuji turns towards Akira and nudges him. “Are all of them strange? What does yours say?”

Akira opens the package and allows Ryuji to read it outloud. “Soon all your dreams will come true…” Ryuji scrunches his nose at that. “Happy for you, bro, but uhhh–I don’t think fortunes are supposed to sound like this. I think Yusuke found a weird fraud.”

Yusuke winces and casts his eyes downwards. “Perhaps my eyes have betrayed me and led my heart astray. I want to believe there is a hidden truth in her words that we are too blind to see, but if instead I have fallen into a wicked deception…”

Ann smiles sympathetically at the distraught dreamer. “Hey, it's totally okay! The scammers around these tourist areas are super sneaky and spend years trying to fool people. You should be good if you stick with us.”

Akira nods, showing his agreement with Ann. Yusuke glances at them and straightens his back, confidence regained.

“I shall endeavour to heed your kind warning.”

“And now that we resolved that issue…” Ryuji speaks up. “We have been standing here the entire day. It’s like we haven’t left Japan. We should do something more… Hawaii-like.”

“...Hula dancing?”

“I ain’t down for that.”

With the first suggestion unfortunately vetoed, the PT thought of other activities and sights they could all enjoy. After much deliberation, they ultimately decide to start off with beach volleyball.

Akira was first paired up with Ryui, but he would soon play with everyone as they rotated the teams after 3 rounds. In the end, he finished with 6 wins out of 9, which is a decent showing for his first try. He and his friends then spent their time exploring the area, enjoying the fresh air and picturesque views until their stomachs started grumbling.

After lunch, Ann tells them that she has plans with her roommate, so after promising to catch up in the evening, she splits up from the group.

The moment Ann is out of earshot, Ryuji’s eyes glint brightly. He gestures for Akira and Yusuke to come closer with a wide grin on his face. “Dudes… There are… A LOT of babes here… We should make this vacation one to remember!”

Yusuke’s eyebrows raise. “How so?”

“C’mon, man! I obviously mean getting with Hawaiian chicks!”

“Huh?” Yusuke, the least romantic-inclined one here, replies.

“Ain’t no way we are going to get an opportunity like this again,” Ryuji says excitedly. “You guys are in, right?”

“Crossing an ocean just for this…” Yusuke murmurs, looking towards the horizon with a hopeless gaze.

Akira glances at the beach, an odd apathy overcoming him. He can’t deny that the women here are beautiful, but no matter how much he searches, his interest remains at ground zero. His constant association with a model and celebrity has probably skewed his infatuation with appearances.

Still, Ryuji looks eager to try flirting with the women here, and Akira figures it won’t hurt to support his friend. Just as he is opening his mouth to agree, Ryuji looks past him with pure fear in his eyes. Akira stiffen as he feels a familiar hand on his shoulder.

“What is this I am hearing about Shuji students disturbing the local populace and travelers?” Akechi asks, a deadly undertone in his voice. A full-body shiver works through Akira’s body at Akechi’s bare touch, reminding him too much of a morning he has been trying to forget.

He stares steadfastly ahead, but he can feel Akechi turn his attention to his captive. “I can hardly imagine my close friend would be involved in this debauched scheme.”

The insane description manages to dislodge the fear in Akira’s brain. He shakes his head, unsure why he was acting like a housewife who got caught cheating in the first place.

“The form didn’t say we couldn’t interact with people outside of Shujin,” Akira finally says, shaking off Akechi’s hand and deciding to face his senior head on. That turns out to be a huge mistake, nearly causing him to choke on his next breath.

Much to Akira’s surprise, Akechi has discarded the school uniform in favour of relaxed beachwear. A pair of sunglasses sit on his head and his hair is tied up in that godforsaken ponytail. While this isn’t too out of the ordinary, the attire is a different matter. He has chosen to wear a white shirt wrapped around his shoulders and a pair of matching swimtrunks with a large V stitched onto its left side. If Akira squints, he can see the full word in smaller letters, spelling out “Victory”.

Akechi looks like an absolute nerd, and yet, somehow better than anyone else on the beach, which shouldn’t be possible with this get up. The face and abs are doing so much work right now. Never before did attractiveness feel like such a crime.

Akira closes his mouth with a click, unable to find the right dialogue options after this critical hit to his psyche. Thankfully, Ryuji is here to save his skin.

“Yeah, we ain’t in school. Why do you care what we do?” Ryuji moves up to stand beside Akira, showcasing why he is Akira’s best bro.

Akechi crosses his arms as his eyes narrow. “You seem to have difficulty recalling that this is a SCHOOL trip, so any actions performed by the students here reflect back on Shujin itself. However… I must admit that Akira is correct: there are no explicit rules on foreigner interaction.”

Akechi loosens his stance and smiles. Uh oh. It isn’t like Akechi to concede so easily, and Akira has lost years of his life to that smile.

“As a chaperone, it is my duty to ensure no unsavoury activities occur amongst the students, so if you insist upon this… experiment, I must partake as well.”

What.

W H A T.

“Uhhh–you sure? Cause, it will probably be REALLY boring and you definitely got other important prez stuff to do…,” Ryuji badly lies.

Yusuke turns, bewildered. “If you thought this would be boring, why suggest it in the first place–-?”

Ryuji shushes him and harshly whispers, “We won’t be getting any of the babes if he comes along!”

Meanwhile, Akira is still consumed by his own thoughts. Akechi wants to join them in picking up girls?

Instantly, a visual image of Akechi monologuing his various achievements as bikini-clad women cling to his arm assaults Akira’s vision. It churns unpleasantly in Akira’s gut, worse than any hunger pains he has ever experienced. He would rather go a week without food than see that idea become a reality. Surely the women here wouldn’t immediately fall for a random high schooler…

Akira then takes one look at Akechi and instantly remembers that his friend is a hot celebrity. If they go through with this, there is no way Tokyo’s Top Teen Bachelor is coming out of this alone.

“Actually, Akechi and I have plans,” Akira pipes up, speaking faster than his brain can keep up. He turns to the President and rubs his neck with a sheepish frown. “Sorry, I forgot to message you back this morning. We can go now to do…” Realizing he never read beyond Akechi’s first text, his excuse falls flat on its face. “...What you mentioned.”

“Bro…” Ryuji recovers from his devastation and looks at Akira with grateful eyes, appreciating the intent if not the delivery of Akira’s lie.

Akechi slightly raises his eyebrow, but doesn’t call Akira out. “Very well. We can depart now if that suits you.”

Akira bobs his head, and Akechi takes this as his cue to leave, not bothering looking back as if knowing Akira will follow. Akira hates how right the President is.

He quickly waves goodbye to a still-confused Yusuke and teary-eyed Ryuji before jogging to catch up with the retreating boy. However, just as he manages to reach his friend’s side, he realizes his mistake.

His actions have sealed his fate.

He now has to spend the entire day with the Akechi.

Chapter Text

It’s a beautiful day outside.

The beaches are bustling, the palm trees are swaying.

And on a day like this, Akira is doing the ONE thing he said he wouldn’t do.

‘And this is why I consider more than one dialogue option…’ Akira morosely thinks to himself, dragging his feet as he stares at the happy vacationers enjoying the beautiful coast. These people probably aren’t dealing with catastrophic thoughts about their clingy, hot friend and wishing for magical sinkholes to swallow them up.

Lucky ducks.

Though, it is unfair for him to feel envious. This is mostly his fault. He dug his grave, and now he has to hope Akechi will let him lie in it with his dignity intact.

*Ding-Dong*

Akira startles at the sound of a bell. He faces forward, realizing that they have just arrived at a seaside cafe. He was so lost in his own thoughts that he didn’t think to ask where they were going.

Halfway through the door, Akechi regards him with a raised eyebrow before heading inside. Come to think of it, Akechi hadn’t spoken a word throughout the entire trip. Akira quickly follows him to a nearby table by a window, giving them the perfect view of the ocean.

As they sit down, a nearby waitress quickly makes her appearance.

“Hello! How–” As she continues talking, Akira blinks cluelessly. He is already so lost. Sure, he has taken English classes over the years, but she speaks too quickly and uses too many unknown words for him to follow.

“Umm,” Akira stammers, quickly opening the newly-given menu and hoping his assumption about her taking their orders is correct. One look at the first page has him immediately re-closing it. He can at least read the numbers and confirm that everything is way outside of his budget.

“Woter?” He says, cringing internally at his terrible pronunciation.

Showing off her experience, she doesn’t bat an eye and quickly writes down his $0 drink. She then turns to Akechi who smiles up pleasantly.

“I would like–”

Akira can only watch amazed as Akechi confidently orders in English and goes on to have a full conversation with her. Akechi does speak slower, but there is no change to the number of unknown words, making it so Akira can’t fully understand what either are saying.

He manages to catch a few phrases such as Akechi stating they are from Japan. She seemed excited, if her bright smile and constant glances between the two of them are enough to go by. After a few more exchanges, she departs with a wink, leaving them alone once again.

“You know English?” Akira asks. Akechi nods.

“While I am still far from fluent, the language is quite familiar for me. My mother is half European. She would read to me a few Western fairytales before bed.”

Akechi tilts his head, his pale neck flashing in the bright sunlight. Instead of indulging in the rare instance of his friend speaking candidly about his childhood, Akira’s mind blanks at the action. It reminds him that his head was resting near it this morning, close enough to be almost nestling in that very curve. Would it be comfortable to lay there? Would Akechi have let him?

Instead of voicing any of his stupid thoughts, Akira lets out an “I see…” Not that this response is much better. Thanks to his horrible remark, the conversation draws to a close.

Akira rests his chin on his hand, staring through the window. He knows that he is being horrible company, but his default mode is too far out of reach. After everything that has happened in the last 24 hrs, he can no longer look at Akechi without his brain going haywire. Perhaps he can play it off as jetlag, but the detective would call the bluff instantly.

What does he say then? Admitting that he is overly self-conscious only invites more questions and concerns. Eventually, the “why” would be asked.

The thought of Akechi looking at him with revulsion twists his stomach into knots.

“You appear distracted.”

Slowly (reluctantly), Akira peeks at his companion. Silver meets maroon for a brief second before Akira focuses his gaze to a far point on the wall. He swallows, his throat suddenly feeling dry.

“A little tired, I guess.”

Out of the corner of his vision, Akechi’s head turns briefly towards the window and then right back at him.

“Feeling remorse over your decision?”

“Huh?”

Akechi crosses his arms, his voice turning rather sharp. “Surely you aren’t daft enough to mistake my meaning.”

“I am not a mind reader,” Akira says, raising an eyebrow. The indignation is alleviating some of the embarrassment flooding his head, uncovering his lost thought processes. He faces Akechi, keeping his line of vision just above his head.

He doesn’t know why his friend appears so frustrated. Unless it is about the message…? “Are you angry I didn’t reply to you today?”

Akechi’s voice remains tight. “That is irrelevant. From your longing glances at the beach, I can only assume that you would rather be philandering with your friends.”

“What? No–” Akira quickly corrects. “What makes you think that?”

This time, it is Akechi’s turn to look confused. His whole body stills as his eyes widen. “... You defended Sakamoto-kun quite passionately earlier.”

“Because you were being unreasonable,” Akira states clearly. Akechi’s brows knit, somehow looking even more befuddled.

“If you aren’t feeling regretful, then what is the cause of your distraction?”

Akira’s teeth dip into his lip. A pit instantly forms in his stomach, unsure how Akechi will react to the truth.

“Sorry, I guess– I have been feeling self-conscious about this morning. When we…” He trails off, unable to explain it outloud. Still, Akechi seems to have gotten the memo.

“You were awake?” Akechi asks, disbelief clear in his voice. Akira feels his cheeks heat up. He stares hard at the table, one of his fingers automatically fidgeting with his hair.

“Only a few minutes before you got up,” Akira answers weakly.

Silence reigns, broken up only by the tapping of a nail against the glass. Not his own, though. Seems Akechi is as nervous as Akira.

“My apologies,” is what Akira eventually hears. “Did I make you… uncomfortable?”

He thinks for a moment before resolutely shaking his head. He is feeling many emotions, but disgust is not one of them. At the other end of a table, there is a sigh of relief. Akira looks up, stunned to be seeing Akechi with a smile on his face.

“In that case, there is no need to overthink it. We are sleeping in the same bed, so some amount of physical touch is expected.”

Akira thinks it was more than “some”, but he is too mollified by Akechi’s unaffected response to care. He lets out a breath and nods, relieved that his friend is unconcerned over his weird behaviour and doesn’t want to dig deeper into it.

Akira really was overreacting over nothing.

“But I must say,” Akechi continues. “Your shyness could be a detriment to your relaxation on this trip. Perhaps we need to engage in other forms of contact to desensitize you.”

Andddd Akira’s flush skyrockets back up. “No-no need!” He squeaks out, waving his hands in front of his face.

Akechi laughs into his hand, eyes crinkled in mischief. Akira pouts, giving a half-hearted glare.

“You are the worst.”

Akechi’s smile widens, showing teeth. “And yet, you still chose me over the others.”

Akira lets out a huff, one too fond to disprove Akechi’s claim. He finally lets their eyes meet, unable to stay annoyed when looking at that smug expression.

“Yeah,” he admits. “Thanks for that, by the way.”

Akechi crosses his arms as his lips tugging downwards.

“It is my pleasure to assist, but surely you could have gotten out of Sakamoto-kun’s deranged plan on your own.”

Akira shrugs. “I would have gone along with it.”

Out of the corner of his vision, he watches as one of Akechi’s eyebrows twitches violently. “But did you want to?” Akechi stresses. “You know your followers aren’t going to hate you for rejecting one of their idiotic ideas.”

Akira bites his tongue, unwilling to voice his horrible thoughts. ‘Why wouldn’t they?’ He wonders.

His gaze trails back to the happy vacationers outside. Many of them are smiling and laughing with each other, careless and free. Do they think carefully about their every response? How many masks do they have? Do they also hold onto their relationships like Buddha’s silk, a fragile lifeline that will break with a single wrong move?

Maybe one instance of rejection wouldn’t cause too much damage, but if he can’t be there to support his friends, then his purpose would be lost.

Everyone says that he is a good listener. A helpful person. A reliable advisor. These characteristics lay the foundation for his relationships. He can’t be their leader or confidant by suddenly acting selfish.

“Akira.”

Tongue-tied, he stays silent. All he can do is stare helplessly at his friend, but Akechi doesn’t look annoyed at Akira’s lack of response.

There is something in his eyes, some mixture of deep understanding and concern. It’s as if Akechi sees Akira’s broken parts and still views him as someone worth a damn. He doesn’t think anyone has looked at him like that before.

“You don’t have to agree with my words immediately, even more so if you don’t fully believe them but I urge you to give it some thought. You shouldn’t mold yourself into someone else’s ideal. If you do, you will end up in a role you never desired.” There is something desperate in Akechi’s voice, making it impossible for Akira to dismiss him.

“...Okay, I’ll try,” he eventually lets out, laying back as the chair below him creaks. He wonders how so many of his conversations turn into Akechi comforting him or giving him advice. It does leave him a bit drained, but in a good way, like pouring rubbing alcohol on an infected wound.

“You are a good friend, Akechi,” Akira says, hoping that the magnitude of his appreciation can be properly conveyed in only a few words. Akechi looks off to the side, still unable to handle direct praise. Akira wants to reach a point where Akechi accepts it, since he plans on complimenting him more in the future.

“This is the least I can do,” Akechi answers, matter-of-fact. He then puts his elbows on the table and crosses his hands together, staring directly into Akira’s eyes with a serious expression. Akira feels his shoulders go tense.

“If you don’t mind hearing my opinion on certain matters, I would also like to suggest rejecting any of Sakamoto’s debaucherous schemes. A summer fling is considered by many hormonal boys to be ‘exhilarating’, but it can lead to serious consequences if not approached responsibly. The rewards are generally not worth the price.”

Akira blinks twice before devolving into a giggling mess. He didn’t expect such an absurd discussion given Akechi’s expression. “You–pfft–you sound like a dad giving his daughter the talk.”

Akechi scrunches up his nose at that comparison, immediately rebuking it. “Please never insinuate my actions as fatherly again. I am only speaking as a concerned friend and senpai.”

“Alright, senpai~,” Akira teases, fluttering his lashes. Akechi’s mouth twitches upward before being smoldered back to neutral. Call Akira crazy, but he thinks Akechi might like being called senpai. He files that away for later. “But it doesn’t have to be a fling. Perhaps these sandy beaches will lead me to the love of my life and we will ride off into the sunset on a jetski.” Akira uses his arm to swoon dramatically, resulting in an amused eye-roll from his companion.

“Well, my dear kohai,” Akechi drawls, “I highly doubt anyone who agrees to be with you based on looks alone is interested in a long-term relationship. And besides…” Akechi reaches over, tucking one of Akira’s bangs behind his ears. The touch lingers for a second longer than necessary as his voice grows soft. “You should only be with someone who understands you, who has catalogued every facet of your being and loves every part. You don’t deserve any less.”

By the time the hand has retreated, it is Akira’s turn to be flustered.

“I didn’t expect such a romantic response from you,” is Akira’s choked out response.

At that, Akechi pauses, his lips turning up into a faint, wistful smile. “... I suppose you are rubbing off on me.”

The conversation lulls after that. It isn’t as uncomfortable as when they first arrived, but for some reason, Akira is regaining those butterflies. His heart is pounding furiously in his chest, feeling as if it might burst out right onto their table in a mess of blood and hormones.

Akira focuses on trying to calm himself down. Eventually, he does settle into a more manageable state, but is unable to delve into a new conversation topic before the waitress comes back with their orders. She puts down a modest glass of iced water in front of Akira and then proceeds to place a monstrosity at the centre.

Akechi’s drink is big enough to almost conceal his face. The pink liquid is interwoven with specs of minced berries, filled up to its brim. The top further increases its size by layering pink and white ice-cream drizzled in red sauce. But the part that stands out the most is the thick curly straw that separates into two ends.

And still, the waitress isn’t done. A slice of cake with heart-shaped sprinkles (what is up with Hawaii and hearts?) also lands on their table.

“Did you order these?” Akira asks, overwhelmed.

“Only the drink,” Akechi says and turns his head to speak with her. She smiles brightly and gestures to herself and the kitchen behind her. Akira follows her hand, meeting his gaze with a burly, middle-aged cook through the kitchen window. The man gives them a watery smile and a thumbs up. Akira has never been more confused in his life.

She departs soon after, leaving them with far more than they expected.

Peeking over the liquid-diabetes, he sees Akechi’s eyebrows furrow into a troubled expression.

“It appears I miscalculated. I did not expect their sizes to be so large, nor their services to be so generous. I must request your assistance in finishing these.”

Akira waves his hands. “I couldn’t–”

“The drink is called strawberry sunrise supreme.”

Akira clicks his mouth shut, looking at the sugary refreshment with a newfound appreciation. What a coincidence: strawberry is his favourite flavour, but there is no way for Akechi to have known that.

“Alright,” Akira eventually relents, and Akechi beams up at him, his face glowing in the sunlight.

Akira lets the light glint off his glasses as he cracks his neck. Time to put his Big Bang Burger Challenge skills to use.

After their heavy meal (which became a speed eating contest half-way through), they need time to digest, so they spend the next hour casually strolling along the streets, giving brief comments on the architecture and nature. They choose shaded paths that pass through interesting areas, allowing them to grab good pics without full force of the sun’s heat. While Akira does share the scenic pics to the Sakura family chat, he decides to keep the ones with Akechi and him in a secret folder, hidden from a certain sister’s curious eyes.

Eventually, they do get bored of simply walking and decide to try out some of the local attractions.

They stumble upon a water-equipment rental store and Akechi suggests that they rent a jetski for an hour. Akira doesn’t mind the idea of them sharing and taking turns, so he easily accepts.

It ends up being a fantastic idea. Half an hour of driving is more than enough for Akira to try out all the tricks he had seen others perform.

Even on his off turn, when he is doing nothing but clinging to Akechi’s back, he enjoys the thrill of gliding through the waves with the occasional sprays of the sea whipping against his face. And if Akechi’s matching grin is anything to go by, his friend enjoyed his time too.

They do end up slightly damp from the excursion, so they opt on naturally drying off by hopping between different cafes and trying out their unique coffees. Akira even manages to find the perfect blend to be Sojiro’s souvenir. However, since he doesn’t have a bag, he decides to save other gift purchases for a different day. Speaking of which…

Akira briefly takes out his phone and sends Futaba a quick text asking what she would like. She hadn’t seen him off before the trip (Morgana said she was in the middle of a featherman auction), so he decides to text her the question instead.

Just as he pockets his phone, he hears a ding go off. He takes it out and to his surprise it is not from her, but rather the PT group chat.

Skull: Yo @Queen, wya?

Queen: I’m so sorry! I didn’t realize how late it was.

Panther: Everything good?

Queen: Yes, thanks for asking. I am wrapping up some council work now and can join everyone in a few minutes.

Skull: Hell yeah, how about we eat at the resort buffet? Join us @Joker?

Queen: Is he not with you?

Fox: We crossed paths with Akechi this afternoon, and Joker chose to follow him in a great show of camaraderie.

For a brief moment, no one responds. But when someone does–

Oracle: Why not invite Akechi too?

–she causes a flurry of texts from the other members.

Skull: ADJAKDSJFLK U CRAZY?

Panther: I agree with inviting him!

Queen: Are we sure this is a good idea?

Fox: No harm if we keep quiet on our metaverse activities

Oracle: Keep friends close and enemies closer and all that?

Queen: I guess… If we all believe this is a wise decision, then I suppose I can accept inviting him.

Skull: Easy for Oracle to offer when she doesn’t have to deal with that guy

Oracle: Who says I won’t? Distance can’t stop me

Oracle: If a phone is nearby, I can see and hear whatever I want

Oracle: It will be like I am right there with you guys

Skull: Dude you realize how freaky that sounds?

Oracle: Not as freaky as some of y’all’s search histories @Joker

… Akira should probably step in before things descend into even more chaos.

Joker: calm down everyone

Joker: @Oracle I thought you removed the bug

Oracle: I swear on featherman pink I did

Oracle: but some things that can’t be unseen

Skull: TMI

Skull: And still against inviting that jerk

Panther: Come onnnn, Joker likes him, so maybe he isn’t so bad

Skull: … Fine

Skull: But only if he is less of a snobby asshole

Fox: @Joker would Akechi like to join us?

Akira thinks about this for a moment. He remembers a few weeks ago having the fleeting thought of all his friends spending time together. At first, he quickly dismissed the idea because he assumed that no one would be happy about it. But if his friends want to meet him, that changes everything.

Joker: I’ll ask

Akira jogs out the door to where Akechi is waiting for him. The older boy is leaning against a wall, typing something on his phone with a neutral expression. On the outside, he would seem focused albeit bored, like he is updating a grocery list. However, the harsh tapping on the screen suggests that he isn’t very happy.

“You okay?” Akira asks when he reaches his friend’s side. Akechi instantly shuts off his phone and pockets it, turning to Akira with a plastic smile.

“Oh yes, it's nothing you need to worry about. I was sending out a few work-related emails. Even while on a trip, I’m afraid the responsibilities don't truly end, but there shouldn’t be any more interruptions tonight.”

Akira raises his eyebrow, but Akechi doesn’t elaborate further.

Immediately, Akira has to squash down the pang of disappointment. While this isn’t the first time Akechi has acted secretive, as they get closer it's getting harder to not take the avoidance personally. It makes Akira wonder if he does not look reliable in Akechi’s eyes. Still, he tries to console himself that he doesn’t need to know everything and that Akechi has the right to any secrets he may have.

Taking a breath, Akira resets and moves on to why he came out in the first place. He joins Akechi on the wall, lightly checking his shoulder. With a casual grin, Akira puts out the offer.

“How about dinner? My friends invited us to the resort’s buffet.” Akechi narrows his eyes, mouth inching downwards in skepticism.

“I was not aware your friends held a favourable opinion of me.”

“Hey, they don’t hate you,” Akira says, angling his body towards Akechi. “They were the ones who offered. They know we spend a lot of time together, so I think they want to get to know you too.”

Akechi hums before putting an arm around Akira’s shoulders and sending him a charming smile, causing goosebumps to raise on his arm. Now that Akira knows what Akechi’s real smile looks like, the princely one feels more scary than comforting. “As lovely as that sounds, I was researching a few places and found a highly rated restaurant nearby. It offers a beautiful view and a fine dining option which will be leagues beyond what we would eat at a buffet. Perhaps we can reschedule your friend’s interrogation party to another day.” Well this sounds downright suspicious.

“What's the name?” Akira asks, eyes narrowing. After Akechi recites it, he types it into his phone and balks at the website.

“Akechi…” Akira wheezes, removing Akechi’s arm and facing him with wide eyes. “This is a two Michelin star restaurant. I can’t afford that– and I can’t let you pay for it either.”

“This will be no trouble for me at all,” the spendthrift insists. Akira bites his lip, looking for a way to get out of making Akechi spend hundreds of US dollars on him. When Akira finally turns around and notices the beach, a metaphorical light bulb flashes over his head. Grinning, he points his finger at the sea.

“I’ll race you to that large grey rock. Winner picks the restaurant?"

Akechi goes into his cute thinking pose, processing the offer. The moment he nods his head, Akira puts his plan into action. He shoves Sojiro’s gift and his phone into Akechi’s arms, releasing a squawk out of the surprised boy, and then sprints towards the water.

“Hey–!” Akechi yells from a rapidly increasing distance. Akira simply laughs, kicking off his sandals and keeping up his stride with full knowledge that Akechi will be chasing after him very soon. While he is certain that he could keep up with Akechi in an even race, this head-start gives him the extra insurance he needs to decidedly claim victory.

Akira keeps his eye on the prize, swiftly switching from running into swimming as soon as the water reaches the necessary depth. At first, the water chills him to his bones, but the exertion from moving his limbs as fast as he can quickly eases that cold touch.

In no time flat, Akira’s hand slaps the rock he had been eyeing and he lets out a solid fist bump. It looks like Akira has heroically saved them from Akechi’s bad financial decisions today.

Just as he is savouring his victory, he notices something is off. Quite literally.

The water’s current passes by somewhere it really shouldn’t, causing Akira to look down into the clear blue water. The waves and depth make it blurry, but the truth is undeniable.

His. Swimtrunks. Are. Gone.

Ohnonononono–

Immediately, Akira sinks down into the water, only keeping his head up to breathe, and brings a hand down to cover himself as much as he is physically able. He rapidly scans the area around him, but his trunks are nowhere to be found.

Pure horror slams into his brain. He can’t believe his nightmare has become a reality. He knows that he lost weight (skipping meals and continuously jumping from metaverse rooftops does that to a person), but he didn’t think it would cause his old swimsuit to fall off of him the first time he goes into water.

In the middle of his panicking, Akechi arrives at the rock with a disgruntled expression.

“I should have known you had a plan in mind. Don’t think I will let you off easy next time,” Akechi states, eyes glinting with determination.

“Uhhh, great. Yeah,” Akira stupidly replies, unable to match Akechi’s competitive spirit while dressed in his birthday suit in a public area. “You know, it was sort-of underhanded for me to start without warning. Let’s go with your dinner idea. You can go ahead and make the reservation and I can–uhh, catch up later?”

Akechi frowns, inching closer, but as Akira moves back to maintain the distance, he stops. “That is an odd suggestion. There is no reason for us to separate. Besides, I still have your belongings, the items you had so graciously transferred before the race. I had to leave them unattended on the beach. We should head back before someone decides to pilfer them for themselves.”

“I–I can’t.”

“Why not?”

Akira would sink lower if he could. Drowning himself almost feels like the better option. He can feel his ears burn fiercely, molten lava replacing the blood in his veins.

“Myswimtrunksaregone,” Akira sputters in a single breath. Even though he can barely understand himself, Akechi seems to have gotten the memo.

His friend slowly lets his eyes rove downwards before snapping his head right back up. Akira is unable to look at Akechi’s expression, but he does see red creeping up his chest and towards his neck.

“That’s–how–?” Akechi, who prides himself on his eloquence, is at a loss for words. However, after a long, deep breath, he recovers and goes straight into problem-solving mode.

“Stay here,” he commands. “I will go grab my towel. When we get you back to shore, you can change into some of my spare clothes.”

Akira nods, and with only one look of hesitation, Akechi starts swimming back to land in an impressive show of speed. Akira does what he is told and waits, hoping that no one comes by him before Akechi comes back.

In a rare show of mercy from this universe’s cruel gods, he remains blissfully alone until Akechi returns. Taking the cloth offering, he wraps it around his waist and keeps one hand on it as they slowly make their way back.

Akechi guides them to where he left his bag and starts digging through its contents to hand Akira the clothing he promised. Ducking into a nearby changing tent, Akira unwraps his makeshift skirt, wringing the water out as much as he can to hopefully use it as an actual towel. He isn’t very successful, so his skin is still left damp.

Sighing, Akira resolves to spend the next hour with wet cotton sticking to his skin.

He takes inventory of the bundle he set on the bench. Akechi has given him a pair of brown slacks, a belt, and the white dress shirt Akechi originally had tied over his shoulders. Why Akechi chose formal wear as an acceptable beach outfit is anybody’s guess, but nude beggars can’t be choosers.

The pants fit alright, a bit loose around the waist but nothing that can’t be solved with a belt. The main problem comes from the shirt.

It turns out Akechi’s build is one-size broader than Akira’s, causing the fabric to practically engulf him. It would look odd for him to wear a formal outfit with the shirt wide open, so he buttons it up. However, the only two options seem to be either a choking collar or a wide opening. He ultimately decides on the latter, but this causes it to hang loosely on his shoulders and occasionally fall off to one side if he isn’t careful. This isn’t even getting into how white fabric becomes slightly see-through when wet, causing his nipples to be barely visible.

“Akira? Is everything alright?” Akechi calls outside the flap. Akira walks out with uneven steps, nervously pulling at his hair. He hears a sharp intake of breath.

“You tell me,” he tries to joke, but it comes out more high-pitched than he would like.

Seconds pass without anyone making a sound. Akira’s gaze occasionally flickers towards Akechi’s face, but he can’t gleam much from that singular look. Akechi’s eyes never stray, his expression left blank. It reminds Akira of when Akechi first walked into the maid cafe all those months ago.

Eventually, because Akira does not want to stand out here for longer than necessary, he takes it upon himself to snap Akechi out of it. He walks forward, tugging at Akechi’s arm.

“Can we go back to the hotel room? I’d rather be wearing my actual clothes.”

The question does the trick. Akechi blinks for a second, regaining his lucidity.

“Of course, apologies for being unable to provide any alternatives.”

Akira shakes his head. “You’ve already done more than enough. Without you, I probably would have been arrested for public indecency. I can’t thank you enough.”

“This is nothing to get overly sentimental for,” Akechi says immediately.

Akira cracks a smile. “At least let me wash these clothes before I return them to you.”

Akechi ponders for a moment before answering. “That is unnecessary. I can simply put them together with my other used clothes.”

“Are you sure?” Akira asks, shocked. “I’m getting them dirty, so I should wash them myself. Because, uhh… all the salt water, and I’m not wearing anything under…” Akira shifts, acutely aware of the intimate brush of pants against his bare ass.

While he is grateful to be covered up, he knows there is a specific garment Akechi cannot lend him, one he needs to get from his own luggage. Akechi’s eyes seem to grow to the size of saucers as he comprehends the embarrassing statement.

Suddenly, he grabs Akira’s shoulders with a manic glint in his eyes. “Akira,” he breathes. “If you wish to repay my favour, I insist you find another method. Let me handle the washing of my clothes. Please.”

Akechi must be very particular about cleaning. He looks like he is one second away from having a heart-attack and being the first student to perish on a school trip. Not wanting to worsen his friend’s mental state, Akira acquiesces to his desperate plea.

“O-Okay…”

Akechi loosens his hold, letting out a sigh of pure relief. He sticks close and begins leading them back to the resort.

“Good, let's not dawdle. It would be best to avoid any of the vultures around here before meeting with your friends.” Akechi begins to eye the surroundings with a suspicious glare. Akira looks up, unaware that vultures were native to Hawaii or how they would be a danger in this situation.

Nevertheless, the sooner they get back to the resort, the better. And, Akira suddenly realizes, Akechi said meeting up with his friends, so that must mean he is coming for the buffet. Heart hammering in anticipation, he focuses on his excitement as they depart.

They have to pass through an outdoor market on the way back. It is fairly busy, but not to the point where they are sardined between other sweaty travellers.

Which is good, because Akechi has taken to glaring at anyone who gets too close, no matter how often Akira chides him for it.

As they make their way past the stalls, one of the tents catches Akira’s eyes. It lies near the edges, differentiating itself from the other Hawaiian-themed shops with its heavy blue fabric and gold accents. Considering the stark contrast, it's a surprise no one else is staring.

In the booth, a woman sits in front of a clothed table. Her dress matches the aesthetic of the tent, but Akira can’t gleam much else since her face is half covered in a veil. All he can see are sharp red lips and platinum blond curls. The mysterious lady must have noticed him looking, because she turns to send a smile his way. Akira follows, drawn to the eerie familiarity.

Ignoring Akechi’s protests, he makes his way to the front of the booth. She opens her mouth, a mature, calm voice flowing out.

“Greetings, it’s been quite some time.”

“Have we met…?” Akira asks, dazed. Her smile turns soft.

“You were a young boy all those years ago, so I can’t begrudge you for forgetting. ‘Tis the fate of all of those who gaze at the unseen before they are ready. What a fortuitous turn of events that our paths could cross once more.”

Akechi arrives at Akira’s side, looking between them with slanted brows. “Sorry for interrupting, but do you know this woman, Akira?”

“I… I think so?” Akira replies, wracking his brain for when, where and how. Thankfully, her memory seems to be working better than his right now.

“It was back at the Yasogami High School Festival,” she reveals. “I wished to support a special guest of mine, so I offered fortune telling services during the event.”

“Ah!” Akira exclaims. That’s right, as a kid he would always go to the local high-school's annual festival. He remembers one specific year he stumbled upon a mysterious room with the same woman. After that, he never saw her again.

“Curious that a Japanese fortune-teller set up a booth in Hawaii,” Akechi says lightly, airing out his suspicions.

She turns to him, lips curling as if in on a secret. “Esteemed guests can be found anywhere, even on this small island.”

She begins shuffling the cards in her hands, drawing Akira’s attention to them. They are the same design as the one Yusuke gave out. She must be the one who aided their lost artist.

“Thanks for helping my friend out,” Akira says.

She nods her head. “It is an honour to assist promising individuals.”

With that confirmation, Akira tries to verify another one of his hunches. “You wouldn’t happen to have young twin girls in your family, would you?” Akechi glances at him quizzically, but Akira ignores it. He has no idea how he would explain the velvet room without sounding like a crazy person.

She pauses for a second, looking up to give him a sad smile. “I have many siblings, but we have all been born individually, no two ever needed at the same time.” She then spreads out her deck of cards, waving her hand as an offering. “It is not often I meet a familiar face. To commemorate our reunion, would you like for me to read your fortune again? No payment necessary.” The sudden change in topic does not go unnoticed, but Akira does not call attention to it. It would be rude to dig into what he presumes is a sore spot.

“That’s a gracious offer,” Akechi interjects, moving to stand slightly in front of Akira. “But we are late to another meeting,” He starts tugging on Akira’s arm, however, Akira stays rooted to his place.

“I think we can spare a few minutes.” Akira sits down on the chair across from her, curious as to what she might say.

He doesn’t believe that fate is set in stone, but after his encounters with Chihaya and this lady, he is starting to believe there is some truth in their statements. Chihaya has correctly foretold the futures of her clients, and many years ago Akira received a prediction that he would find a new life far from here and face numerous trials and tribulations.

His psychic confidant stated that she could see ruin in his future but not much else, so he wonders if the only other clairvoyant person he knows might have access to more.

“Please pick up three cards,” the fortune teller says. Akira chooses three at random and hands them over to her. She takes them and flips the first one over, revealing its contents.

“The fool reversed.” She taps the first one. “This specific card has not changed for you, but its position has. You are approaching unseen danger. It would be wise to carefully evaluate your surroundings and question even what you thought was certain. Is there a perilous goal you’re working towards?”

Akira nervously scratches the back of his head, not saying a word. She moves on, unphased.

“The high priestess. Perhaps it's time to take a step back, to forgo logic and listen to your intuition. This may be your solution for the future ahead.”

And finally, when she approaches the last card, she takes a moment to sigh. “Ace of swords, reversed. How ominous, it generally symbolizes conflict and destruction…” She lifts her head to review him, and though he can’t see her eyes, he feels like she is staring straight into his soul.

“Ruin awaits you with very few paths to victory.” Damn, same thing then.

“Ruin?” Akechi repeats, looming over the table. The sunrays cast shadows over his face, making the glint in his red eyes look all the more menacing.

“Another interpretation would be death,” she replies calmly, unfazed by the menacing teenager standing over her.

Akechi stills, the only indication of life being the slight shaking of his clenched hands. He glances down at Akira with an incredulous expression, but whatever he sees must be the exact opposite of what he wants. He faces her, glaring daggers as he begins emitting pure contempt and murderous rage.

“It’s vile that scammers like you prey on desperate idiots,” he spits out, a low growl in his voice. “Putting thoughts of death and destruction into their heads just to make a quick buck. I have no interest in entertaining this farce. We will be going to the authorities to report this sham of a business.”

After making his threat, Akechi pulls Akira forcibly up and drags him away with unrelenting strides. Akira stumbles after him, barely keeping up.

“Wha–? Akechi– wait!! That was rude, we should go back and apologize!”

When Akira tries to pull Akechi back, the older boy swivels around and grabs Akira by the shoulders, fingers digging into skin.

“You–!” He growls, shaking Akira roughly. “How could you just sit there and let her speak about your death so casually? Are you truly so careless about your own life?”

Akechi hangs his head, chest heaving from his large uneven breaths.

While the feeling of nails burrowing into his shoulders is unpleasant, it is not Akira’s main concern. He reaches out, palms lifting to cup Akechi’s face. His friend flinches when Akira makes first contact, but eventually settles when they remain steady and harmless. Slowly, Akira lifts them up, allowing them to meet each others’ eyes.

“I do care about my life,” Akira states clearly. Using his thumb, he draws circles on Akechi’s cheek in what he hopes is a soothing motion. He feels a shudder wrack through the other boy before Akechi slumps into his hold. “I didn’t react because I heard this before. One of my friends said the same thing– that I will meet my end soon.”

Akechi stares up at him helplessly, looking at him like he might vanish in an instant. It breaks Akira’s heart.

“But I don’t believe it,” Akira continues, underlying his tone with as much confidence as he can muster. “I think that humans have the power to change their own destiny, and I intend to keep fighting against mine. Don’t worry, I will find a path forward. I won’t leave you behind.”

Akechi closes his eyes, slowly pulling Akira’s hands down and breaking away.

“But I…” Akechi murmurs, voice so fragile it could splinter with the slightest touch. Akechi wraps his arms around himself, all of the previous fight dissipating from his body. Whatever he is trying to say, he keeps it unspoken.

For a brief moment in time, they stand facing each other. Even though Akechi is within arm’s reach, he has never felt so far away. Eventually, maroon eyes open. He is looking at Akira, but his gaze goes right through him. Wherever his mind has wandered off to, it isn’t here.

“I have to go,” Akechi roughly announces. He digs into his bag and throws Akira’s stuff onto a nearby patch of grass. His card key, Sojiro’s gift, his phone–all go tumbling onto the ground. Instinctively, Akira goes down to grab them. It isn’t until they are in his arms does he realize the purpose of this action.

“Wait a second–!” Akira quickly stands up, reaching out for Akechi’s hand. Unfortunately, his fingers catch nothing but air. He looks around frantically, but there isn’t a hair nor hide of the person he is seeking. His friend has already made great use of this distraction to retreat into the crowd, disappearing from his vision.

It seems Akira is the one left behind.

The walk back to his room is slow and quiet. There is no one to keep him company, so no reason to speak.

As he enters the resort, his phone buzzes. He scrambles to open it, enduring the sharp disappointment when he realizes it's not who he wanted. Instead, it’s a text from the group chat.

Panther: So what did he say?

Akira lifts his fingers to reply, his thumb slightly shaking.

Joker: he won’t be joining us

He is somewhere between dream and reality, mind and matter.

Not the cold cell of the velvet room, though, only the semi-aware state of a person teetering towards the edge of sleep.

His mind is moving slower than molasses, half formed thoughts floating through his head before dissipating into the nether.

There is a reason he is clinging to consciousness. A purpose that is keeping him from embracing the sweet oblivion on his warm bed.

He just can’t recall it.

But it’s important, that he is sure of, so he fights against his desires and waits.

After what could be seconds or hours or centuries, there is a change in his surroundings.

He hears a door open and shut, quiet feet pitter-patter across the room. More shuffling. A zipper being pulled up and down. Another door being used. The shift in ambiance slowly fades into white noise in Akira’s mind.

Suddenly, the warmth that cocooned Akira’s body is forcibly ripped away, exposing him to the harsh environment. The shock is so jarring that the pull of wakefulness begins urging him forward. But then, the bed between him dips and the warmth returns. The desire to wake flees back into nothingness.

As if to apologize for the abrupt cold, an object of pure heat is placed next to him. He shuffles forward blindly, hands outstretched to search for it. After his long and difficult journey, he does eventually reach his goal. It’s firm, made of weird angles, and wrapped in soft fabric. It’s perfect.

Sighing, he nestles against his new personal heater, breathing in its soothing natural scent. He hums, satisfied with his find.

“More like a cat than that monstrosity you carry around,” a voice whispers. It’s familiar, but Akira can’t place a name or face.

Still, he can recognize an insult to his not-cat when he hears one. He begins to protest, words coming out as sluggish nonsense. Only when he feels fingers nestle into his hair, scratching lightly in all the right places, do his complaints cease.

Quiet laughter fills the room, rumbling straight from the object below him.

“So cute… Do you have any idea of the effect you have on people? It’s a miracle suitors aren’t lining up at your door. How fortunate that only I see your true value. Despite my occupation, I rather avoid needless bloodshed.”

The hand on his head gradually trails downwards, landing on his nape.

“So kind, selfless, brilliant, reckless… For all the joy you bring, you have also wrought my greatest suffering. Not even my first order has caused this many sleepless nights. But perhaps that says more about me than you…”

A pause as a shaky breath fills the air.

“Your naivete is your worst flaw. The puppeteers have already prepared your execution, and yet here you are, completely oblivious to it.”

Around his neck, fingers begin to curl and form a solid band. The pressure causes his pulse to flutter helplessly. He is pinned, at the mercy of another’s whims.

“It would be so easy,” the voice intones, reaching from a place devoid of emotions. “You leave yourself so vulnerable to the monsters of this world, as trusting as a blind kitten. I should just do it. It would be an act of mercy compared to what they have in store for you.”

None of the words make sense, and Akira couldn’t care less about the weight against his throat, but he hates how this person sounds. This voice shouldn’t ever fall into such a dead and hopeless state.

He tries to speak, but same as before, all that comes out are discontent grumbles. Immediately, the hand unfurrows and rubs up and down his nape like an apology. Akira would groan if he could. That wasn’t what he was objecting to.

“I’m sorry… You deserve more than a monster, but I can’t pull away now. My path has long been chosen. It’s too late for me. For us.”

An arm embraces him and soft lips press gently against his forehead, retreating so fast he may have imagined it. A sigh fills the room as a chin rests on top of his head.

“I know this is selfish, so thank you for indulging me in this brief fantasy. I am not delusional about how this ends. You will be gone, and it will be by my own hand.”

In the quiet night, the words echo like a desperate prayer. Akira wants to reach out to soothe it, but with how comfortable he is, it is becoming harder to focus on why.

When fingers return to card through his hair, all his thoughts cease.

The next morning, Akira wakes up alone in a cold room. Sitting up, he rubs at his sleep-addled eyes, collecting his thoughts.

The last thing he remembers is trying to stay up to wait for Akechi, so considering the morning light shining through his windows, he must have failed in that regard.

Actually, now that he is looking around, the place is suspiciously empty. The luggage rack is only half full and the counters are clear of any cosmetics or hair products. The only new item is a note left on the bedside table.

He picks it up to read.

Dear Akira,

An urgent work matter has been brought to my attention, so I must return to Japan earlier than anticipated. Please do enjoy the rest of your stay with your friends.

Lo Sincerely,

Akechi

“Liar!”

“Seriously?” Ann groans, throwing down her losing hand, causing the cards to scatter upon the ground. “This is like–” she raises her fingers to count, “--the fifth time you caught me. How are you so good at this?’

Makoto uses her cards to hide her face, but from Akira’s position he can see her pleased smirk.

“Lucky guess,” she replies, not willing to divulge that Ann goes high-pitched and rambly when she lies.

It is their last night in Hawaii. To ensure that they end the trip with a bang, they decided to come together for a sleepover in Ryuji’s room. Akira was able to negotiate with Ryuji’s roommate and switch rooms, while Ann, Yusuke and Makoto brought over blankets and pillows from theirs.

It’s great, it keeps Akira’s mind off of other things.

The night is young, so they are playing card games and chatting until it becomes difficult for them to remain awake. But with their large supply of soda, snacks, and teenager energy, it might be a while.

“You know,” Ann says as she pops another chocolate into her mouth. “I’m really glad most of us could come together on this trip. If you asked first-year me, I would never have imagined having a real friend group.”

Yusuke nods his head. “Indeed, I have always remained isolated amongst my peers, so even beyond everything you guys have done for me, I feel fortunate to be accepted as a friend.”

“Yeah, it’s been a crazy few months now that I think about it,” Ryuji remarks, laying back on his hands. “Hard to believe most of us were strangers just a year ago.”

“Don’t you think we still have a lot to learn about each other though? Such as…” Ann grins, a predatory sparkle in her eyes. Akira imagines this is what all her desserts see before they are consumed. “What sort of people are we into?” She swivels her head to her left. “Time to come clean, Ryuji.”

“Me?!”

Ryuji begins to sputter, back going ramrod straight as he begins tugging nervously at his tanktop. “Well, uhhh… She’s gotta have a good personality. I’m okay with anyone who’s modest and nice…”

Ann narrows her eyes. “What if two girls with equally good personalities confessed to you at the same time?”

“If they are equally nice? Then it’d hafta be the one with the hotter bod…”

“Aha!” She exclaims, “So looks are the most important to you.”

“What?! That ain’t fair! How about you, huh?” Ryuji points an accusatory finger at her. “If two equally nice guys approached you, how would you determine who you would go out with?”

Ann sighs, shaking her head. “Neither, I’m taken and not interested in boys.”

“Oh?” Yusuke looks up from his sketch book. He had been busy doodling since he was the first one out of the game. “I wasn’t aware you had found love and companionship. Congratulations, Ann.”

Meanwhile, Ryuji is shell-shocked.

“Huh? Wait, who are you dating? And what do you mean you don’t like boys?”

“Well…” Ann begins twirling one of her pigtails, cheeks going pink. “Just before this trip I confessed to Shiho, and she accepted. We thought about taking it slow, but after a long discussion, we decided to make it official.”

Akira hums, only semi-surprised. He was with Ann on the rooftop when she confessed. It was a rather heart-warming scene, witnessing these two girls who have gone through so much together express their true feelings.

However, the fact they went straight into being girlfriends is news to him. He didn’t stay to watch till the end. When they drew closer together for a kiss, he was becoming increasingly aware of his third-wheel voyeur status. The moment tongues started to get involved, he scurried away as quickly and silently as he could.

Good thing there were no students or teachers present. He would have ruined the moment if someone started shouting at him for scaling down the school building like a frantic monkey.

“You like girls?” Ryuji asks, still surprised. Ann glares at him with her hands on her hips.

“You got a problem with that?”

“No!” Ryuji waves his arms profusely. “It’s totally cool, I mean, girls are hot!” When Ann’s glare doesn’t subside, Ryuji slumps his head down in defeat. “It’s just… didn’t you date Sato-kun back in middle school?”

Ann gags, face scrunched up in disgust. “Don’t remind me. He made me realize my actual preferences. But even if I didn’t regret it, that doesn’t mean I can’t date girls. It’s L-G-B-T-Q,” she says, emphasizing the B and Q.

“There is a B and Q…” Ryuji whispers, eyes distant as if receiving a revelation.

Akira shifts uncomfortably, hoping no one notices. He knows exactly where he falls on this spectrum, and it seems to be the one of the two being focused on now.

No one is aware, and he has no idea if he even wants to bring it up. He knows his current friends are more open, but the lingering pain from when his community in Inaba treated such abnormalities with repulsion still pierces through him.

It’s the reason he was so scared of telling Akechi that he couldn’t get over this morning.

It’s why he keeps his mouth shut now.

“Anyways,” Ann says, spinning around to stare straight at Akira. He nearly jumps at her sudden attention, thinking he had been caught. “Your turn. Who are you into?”

He breathes a silent sigh of relief. Okay, he seems to be in the clear. “Hmmm…” Multiple options filter through his mind, and he isn’t really sure which one to pick. All of them are correct and pretty vague, so he decides to just mash them together. “Someone with a great body, who’s really smart, and shrouded in mystery?”

“Ohhh.” Ann’s grin widens like a cheshire. “Does this person also happen to look great in Shujin’s uniform, act a bit domineering, and spend a lot of time with you?”

A distinctive face flashes through his mind, bringing with it a burst of pain and longing. He banishes the thought in an instant.

“... That’s very specific,” he answers.

“But not wrong if you automatically think of someone who matches that,” Ann declares triumphantly.

Akira looks down at his lap in a daze. Really? Does that mean he likes–

He discreetly looks around the room, noting everyone’s reactions. Yusuke is still engrossed in his sketch, tapping his chin with his pencil. Ryuji has his head tilted to the side, utterly lost.

Makoto is the person with the greatest shift in emotions. Her eyes dart rapidly between Akira and Ann, face paling.

She scoots towards Ann and whispers in her ear. In response, Ann flaps her hand up and down dramatically.

“Pssh, no way! Him? What-what makes you think that? Ahaha, that’s crazy. You… silly goose!”

Well, whatever question Makoto asked, the answer must be a resounding ‘yes’.

Makoto, who has probably also taken note of this, bites her lips in worry.

“As good as these questions are,” Makoto starts, drawing everyone’s attention. “Just because someone matches your idea of a perfect partner, that doesn’t mean you will actually fall in love with them. Reality and fantasy are different. We shouldn’t be taking these hypothetical scenarios so seriously.”

“That makes sense…” Akira says, letting his shoulders drop in relief. That was close, he almost came to the wrong conclusion.

Ann whips her head towards him, face falling into despair.

“What? No! We can know what we want!”

“Are you confident about that?” Makoto counters. “How many checkboxes did Shiho fit for your ideal partner?”

“Well… I did want someone kind? And uh, yeah, shorter than me is g-good,” Ann stutters.

“Liar! In middle-school, you said you wanted someone six feet tall!”

Ann sends Ryuji a glare. However, this doesn’t last long as she places her face in her hands and groans. “Perserverance… perseverance…” She mumbles to herself. Akira pats her shoulder, unsure what devastation she is experiencing but wanting to support her.

“Excuse me,” Yusuke pipes up, holding up the deck of cards. He must have collected them while everyone was distracted. “How about another round?”

Just as he asks that question, everyone’s text notification sound rings four times. The only way for that to happen is if someone messaged the PT chat. The group collectively goes to open their phones.

Oracle: guys

Oracle: GUYS

Oracle: Shujin’s principal is dead

Oracle: It’s a mental shutdown