Chapter Text
“Forgive my intrusion,” Akechi says as he follows Akira into Leblanc. It’s a little bit pathetic, really, that he thinks he can slip back into his princely pretence without it being questioned. Akira throws his bag down; they’re alone in the café, he made sure of it - Sojiro is quite routine in the days he takes Futaba to Akihabara.
He also notices, and then can’t stop noticing, that Akechi is still rubbing his cheek. Some awkward part of him wants to comment ‘missed a spot’ to lighten the mood, but he doesn’t think a badly-timed joke would be appropriate, nor would it go down well with Akechi, although it might coax out a little of that coldblooded, curt anger he witnessed earlier.
“So,” Akira says, sitting down in one of the booths, waiting for Akechi to sit opposite him, “what’s going on?”
“I don’t know what you mean, Kurusu. Nor do I think that I am in any way obligated to answer prying questions about my private life, if that’s the direction you were thinking of taking this.”
Akira looks at him, intimately mapping his face with his eyes. He’d like to see some of Akechi’s self portraits, sometime. Seeing that he has to try a different route, he takes the chessboard off the shelf and sets up a game. “White moves first,” he nods to Akechi, who calmly moves one of his pawns forward.
After a few of his own pawns have been taken, Akira takes up the offensive and moves his knight to take Akechi’s rook - a simple mistake for Akechi to have made if he were distracted. Which he is. And sure, Akira wanted to use chess as a strategy for getting Akechi to open up, but he can’t find the words for it right now, and when the game ends in a particularly unsatisfying stalemate, he sighs and turns on the TV.
There’s some politician on screen, promising things that any un-brainwashed person would understand are complete lies. Lately, the whole world seems to be overrun with corrupt politicians and shady dealings, but maybe that’s how things have always been, and Akira has only recently awakened into an understanding how unfair it all is. He doesn’t even want to watch, but before he can reach for the remote to turn it off, he sees that Akechi has taken it, and is turning the volume up.
“What, don’t tell me you support a guy like that?” Akira says. “He’s so… sinister.”
“No,” Akechi responds, sharply, “I don’t.”
“Then why are you watching?”
“You really… you really don’t know a thing, do you, Kurusu?”
Akira raises his eyebrow.
“Do you have somewhere private we can talk?” Akechi continues.
“Uh, yeah, there’s my bedroom upstairs - it’s a bit messy, but-”
“It’ll do. Lock the door before we go upstairs.”
Akira obeys this command without hesitation, then leads Akechi up the stairs to the attic. He’s half expecting to see Crow standing in his bedroom, and for once, he hopes not to see the mysterious Phantom Thief, because the whole thing might just scare Akechi away. And he wants to know, more than anything, where all of this connects and why it seems like he and Akechi are tangled in the middle of the red strings on some detective’s investigation board.
He sits on the mattress, and Akechi joins him.
“I’m only going to say this once,” Akechi says, “so if you interrupt me, or don’t listen, you’ve lost your shot at the truth, okay?”
Akira nods.
“I’m not a good person.”
The temptation to interrupt is great, and it almost seems like Akechi is daring him to say something so that he can stop talking, but Akira stands his ground and remains silent.
“I didn’t apply for the job I have now like any regular artist. I was thrust into it for someone else’s ulterior motive. It’s a long chain of awful people, and I’m right at the bottom of it. You see… the man I work for is influential and could rise to become Prime Minister soon enough; yes, I can see you’ve figured it out. I work - or, I suppose, worked - for Masayoshi Shido. Telling you any of this is as good as voiding the contract that I don’t have.”
Akechi smooths out his trousers and maintains a sense of calmness on his face, although his eyes betray him. “The Madarame contract that you were offered was a scam. He’s some big name artist who spends his oh-so-generous retirement locking young writers and artists into unfair contracts. The money he leeches off them goes all the way upwards to the worthless scum of a career politician himself. I was sent in to, sort of, well… I guess, scout you out for potential? You can talk now, by the way. That’s all I have to say.”
Akira says nothing. He can’t begin to put together what he’s feeling about what he just heard, that Akechi - his Akechi - was working against him this whole time. But there’s more than that, there’s the whole business with Crow, and if Akechi was so dead-set on getting him to sign that contract, why didn’t he get more involved?
“Actually, please say something,” Akechi says, “you’re scary when you’re all zoned out like that.”
“It’s just… weird. To hear all this, I mean. And from you… you don’t seem like… I mean you’re not a bad person.”
“Oh, please,” Akechi spits, “don’t lie to me now. The only reason I told you is because you’d pry otherwise, and it’s best that you hear the truth from me instead of piecing together lies and creating a false image of what’s going on. No doubt my boss won’t let me continue working with you, so I suppose this is the last time we’ll see each other. Don’t come looking for me, and don’t romanticise me into someone any better than I am.”
“Akechi…”
It’s no use. Akechi turns and leaves, and Akira can’t bring himself to follow him. Things still don’t add up, but he could hear the sincerity in Akechi’s voice and he knows, as much as it hurts, that everything he just said was true. It might not be the whole truth, but the fact of Akechi’s betrayal is still there, and it hurts more than he’d like to admit. He feels numb. Powerless. It’s not so much the possibility that he was being manipulated, but by Akechi of all people - the same person who shared curry with him and who made him laugh when nothing else really could. And all of that can’t be fake.
Yeah. None of it was fake. Akira sees Akechi, sees someone like himself, someone scared and hurt and desperately trying to cut their own puppet-strings and be free; and he can’t blame him. Blaming him would be no different to a mute acceptance of the way things ‘should be’ in society, and if he’s going to be Joker - if he’s going to make Crow proud - then he has to rebel against the surface level status quo.
And then it clicks.
He doesn’t even grab his coat before he rushes out of Leblanc and down the backstreets. The sun is just starting to set, but he’s sure it’s nighttime enough for the person he wants to meet. He starts yelling Crow’s name, wildly and recklessly, until he’s standing on their rooftop screaming at the darkening sky.
“Wow, someone’s interested,” Crow’s cocky voice comes from behind him, “are you here to tell me I was right? Did Goro Akechi betray you?”
“I know who you are.”
“You think you know me, but you don’t.”
Akira turns around. Softly, he lifts his hands up to Crow’s mask, and he’s surprised to see that Crow doesn’t stop him.
“Are you sure?” Crow says. “You can’t take this back. We’ll be going from the before into the after.”
Akira closes his eyes and nods. He keeps them closed while he lifts up the mask, and feels Crow’s face with his fingertips before opening them.
“Goro,” he breathes.
“Sorry to disappoint.”
“Shut up,” Akira says, holding Akechi’s face in his palm, “I knew it. I knew you were a good person.”
“How did you figure me out?”
“That night, when I was mugged. That was when it all started.”
“Do you regret meeting me?” Akechi asks.
“Do you regret getting involved?” Akira counters.
“Never.”
“It wasn’t a normal mugging, was it?”
“No. They didn’t care about your phone, or your wallet. It was your notebook they wanted, and that’s when they pinpointed you as someone they could manipulate into taking Madarame’s contract. Or, rather, that’s when they thought they’d send me in to manipulate you.”
“But they don’t know you’re Crow? You’re… double crossing them?”
“Yes.”
“Then why didn’t you just tell me that instead of going through that whole ‘I’m a bad person’ thing earlier?”
“Because Crow and Akechi are different people. I didn’t want to tarnish the image of one with the reputation of the other. Besides, you seemed to really like me as Crow.”
“I really like you as Akechi, too.”
“Well, I suppose the jig is up now. There’s no way Shido will let me stay on working with you after my intentional failure at getting you into that contract.”
“You’re a Phantom Thief. Can’t you just expose him as a fraud and ruin his election chances?”
“It isn’t that simple, Akira.”
“Tell me,” Akira whispers, guiding Akechi to the edge of the rooftop and sitting there, his legs swinging over the edge. Akechi joins him, and in the quick darkness, his hand lays atop Akira’s. He’s shaking.
“I had this whole long term plan. I wanted to ruin him. Help him get to the height of power and then release all the dirt I have on him and destroy his life. Just like he destroyed mine.”
“He… did what?”
Akechi closes his eyes and purses his lips. His grip on Akira’s hand gets tighter, and he takes a deep breath before speaking. “He’s my father.”
“He’s what?”
“He destroyed my mother’s life and left her for dead. I was passed around orphanages in the shame of being an unwanted child, all whilst he was gaining power and traction in the political world. It was all me - I approached him and offered my help with campaign funds. I put myself in that situation because all I’ve ever wanted is revenge. And then you came along and god damn it, I should hate you for getting in my way but… I don’t think I do.”
“I’m glad you don’t.”
“Can we just sit here for a bit? Things have changed and I’d like to watch the stars come out,” Akechi whispers, his hand still laced in Akira’s, his breath soft and cold against the sky.