Chapter Text
He steals their hearts, one by one.
First is Ryuji, because he's simple and easy to please. Or, more likely, because Akira is the first person in a long time who looks at him and sees someone worthwhile. Who stands up for him and lets him know that his anger and his enthusiasm are things to be treasured and nurtured, rather than locked away within. Akira reminds him what passion feels like, rekindling his old flame with track and stirring up the sparks of a new one.
But surprisingly, it's not a run where he realizes it. Not a heist, either. It's nothing exciting, for once.
The food is delicious, and familiar, and it makes his chest feel funny in the weirdest of ways. Like being winded after a sprint, or tripping and getting the air knocked out of your lungs. It's not a sensation Ryuji is familiar with, at all. He starts to wonder if maybe they've done something different with the broth this time, but shrugs it off. Food is food, and this is damn good food.
(It's not the ramen.)
When Kamoshida had dissolved the track team, he had lost his place to call home. But now? He has somewhere he feels like he belongs.
"And where is that?"
"Uh.... That'd be... next to you, I guess."
Next is Ann, whose heart he warmed with his kindness. In a crowded subway station, when she was at her wit's end, a boy she hardly knew saw her cry and decided he had to help.
She loves Shiho, yes, loves her like the sun loves the sky. But Akira? Akira is of the dark. She loves him as the oceans love the moon. The Phantoms moonlight together and it makes her feel giddy with power. Carmen taught her that she can stand up for herself in a leather suit, but it's Shiho and Akira that show her she can do so in the real world too, in any outfit she's given. They make her feel strong and capable. They inspire her to climb to ever higher heights. They are so strong, and so admirable, and Ann is determined to live up to their standards.
When Akira crashes through that window in the casino, she feels her heart plummet as well. She knows it's staged, knows they'll make it through as long as Joker's charm holds steady (and it does, it always does), but it's still too close for comfort. It's too like Shiho's fall--pushed to the brink, he jumps, and in that moment Ann realizes he's carrying not just their hopes and dreams, but her heart as well.
Akira has led Makoto to many of her firsts, so it shouldn't come as a surprise when he's her first real, tangible, not-a-character-in-a-book crush.
It shouldn't, but it does. It takes Makoto a long time to connect the dots between her increasing desire to see him (chances to expand her worldview, she tells herself, and it is only half a lie), her inability to look away when he's in the room (taking notes on how to interact with the greater world at large from a seasoned veteran), and her own nervousness around him (fear of the unknown, of course; Akira always takes her somewhere out of her comfort zone. Thatt's their arrangement, after all).
Cliché as it might be, it's the fake dating that finally gets her. Between the joking flirtations ("Pretend to be my boyfriend?" "Only if I can take it seriously.") and the genuine charm (when he walks in the room, even lovestruck Eiko has to acknowledge it), Makoto begins to become aware of a growing restlessness at her core. Akira looks so damn good next to her, with his carelessly tousled locks and his slim fitted figure and his quiet confidence. And even though she knows it's all an act, she... doesn't want it to be, not anymore.
Before, all she'd thought about was the future. Her grades, her entrance exams, her career. Everything was as Sae told her, as adults told her. Act as society wills, and you'll be okay.
But living your life in a bubble isn't really living. All Makoto had to do was reach out for her entire world to change.
Akira has taken her to so many places she'd never dare touch otherwise, places she's never even heard of. Shopping in Shinjuku? Pancakes at a theme park? A late-night bar in Shibuya? Ever since he taught her to wander off the beaten path and look outside for meaning, she's learned so much more about herself than she could've from textbooks and a 9-5.
Makoto is, for the first time in her life, truly free. So she's going to live a little bit. And that starts with her newfound friendship and her newfound feelings and, just maybe, some more firsts.
Yusuke takes a while to come around. Not because of lack of chemistry--of course not--but due to his eccentricity. As an artist, his boundaries are so different from a normal person's, it's hard to tell what each gesture means. What is intimate, and what is simply for the sake of his art.
(For Yusuke himself, the distinction is irrelevant. He lives and breathes art. His paintbrush is an extension of his body, and to will that away for simple human desire is unheard of.)
To put it bluntly, Yusuke is so oblivious that he took at least twice the amount of time as any sane person to realize his own feelings.
And even then, only from a movie they had watched together for the sake of his art. Curled up on the couch, watching documentaries and eating curry, Yusuke's hand had absentmindedly wandered to Akira's hair. So soft, so fluffy... and so warm in the attic room. A summer of youth. The movie blurs, and Yusuke's last thought as he drifts off to sleep is how beautiful Akira is.
But it's not just that. Above all, it's Akira's patience with him. It's how he let Yusuke slowly come to terms with his master's deception. It's his willingness to play along with Yusuke's odd requests (And he knows they're odd. He's never sure why exactly is wrong with the things he does, but he's been met with enough rejection to know that his ideas are considered strange at best). To go places with him no one else would. To bounce ideas off each other until inspiration strikes. Akira doesn't judge. He lets Yusuke take things at his own pace, and is with him every step of the way.
For Futaba, the moment comes in Leblanc--behind a cup of coffee and a plate of curry. Sojiro's been teaching him. She takes a bite and grins. He's done the curry justice, but she also notices a slightly different taste--he's added his own personal flair, prepared with love and care. It reminds her of her mother still, and of Sojiro, but there's something about it that's uniquely Akira. For some reason, it doesn't feel strange to feel his name pressed up against theirs.
He's someone she can rely on, for once. Ever since Mom died, Futaba's been alone, alone, alone. The Phantom Thieves took her heart and granted her freedom, but more than that, friendship. And in Akira, Futaba sees a figure to follow, one that will stand tall for her, whether she needs to be behind or beside. He's helped her so much already, and he just keeps helping.
Futaba won't be entirely okay for a very long time. Maybe even never. Recovery is long and hard, and most days she's too tired to crawl out of bed. But Akira doesn't give up on her. He doesn't reprimand her. Just looks at her, asks do you need anything, says let me know if you want to work on your promises. Smiles faintly. And somehow, Futaba feel that if she makes a promise to Akira, she can find the strength in her to follow through.
Family, she muses. Well, she's already adopted a dad, guess a brother's not too far off.
The Phantom Thieves are the first to make Haru feel needed. Up until then, she has only ever been property of her father. Like a vase of flowers, she exists to sit still and look pretty. She has no agency, no say in even matters directing involving her. Fiancé? Marriage? She's barely eighteen, and already everything's been decided for her. She is trapped in a glass prison, separated from the world.
Akira teaches her that there is more to Haru Okumura than her father and her garden. He shows her the power of self-determination.
He recognizes her as skillful, but always considers her feelings. He asks, then apologizes, then asks again. He listens to her when she speaks, which is a novelty she's never had before. He doesn't laugh when she tells him she wants to open her own cafe. Instead, he nods, and asks if she'd take him in as a barista, thank you very much and please treat him kindly.
She falls for him slowly, feelings accumulating like the coffee he drips with care into her cup. There's no sudden revelation, no dramatic confession. One day she walks into the cafe and his smile feels like home.
For detective and thief, there had been a connection from the start. A dangerous one, but an connection nonetheless. They flirt constantly, jokingly, but with sharp barbs beneath, hinting at each other's true nature, testing the waters to see how much the other really knows. Kind smiles belie venomous intent, and when the masks finally fall, it is no surprise.
(The juxtaposition between their conversations over coffee and their true relationship is laughable.)
They could have been friends, in another life. Lovers, even. Akechi only realizes this at the very end, when his bitterness and jealousy has already consumed him. It was doomed even before it began, and not even Joker's defiance of fate can turn back the clock here. It's not enough to save him, but it is enough to save them.
Morgana has nightmares most nights. Of Shadows and Mementos and an oozing black mass of human ruin, of yellow eyes and clawed paws and a wicked grin tearing up his face. He awakens in the night, gasping for breath, and it is Akira beside him that brings him down. How close can two bodies be before the people inside must grow close as well?
He's human, right? He has to be; what else could he be? He just has to find the right treasure, the magical key to unlock his human form. That's what the Phantom Thieves are for.
Deep down, Morgana knows the truth. He may try to drown instinct in denial, but cognition does not equate to truth.
He wasn't born in this world. Despite all his efforts, Morgana is not human, and therefore has no human body to reclaim. The realization hits him like a sack of bricks, and he almost gives in to despair. Hems just a talking cat after all. An animal. What's the point if he can't be human? What's the point of anything?
It's then that Akira slides in, tells him it's going to be okay. That following your heart is more important than what form that heart might take. That it doesn't matter if he's human, because he's Morgana and nothing's going to change that. The Phantom Thieves need him, Akira says. As a partner and as a friend.
"Yeah," Morgana says quietly, "you're right." And curls up just a little bit closer.
He had intended for this to be a business affair, but in the end, he found a place to belong.
In the end, isn't that what happened to all of them? He draws them like moths to a flame. His mystery draws them in, his charm keeps them coming, and his quiet resolve is the clincher. He gives himself to them without complaint--who in their right mind wouldn't find themselves in love?