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Leblanc's been closed for hours by the time Akira returns, dropping his empty bag on one of the bench seats as he heads up the stairs.
His hands are on the hem of his hoodie when he realises there's someone else in the room, almost a silhouette against the dull light from the window, the stars that gleam in the night. Akira's mouth goes dry as Akechi peels himself from the wall, hair golden and eyes dark.
"So you are here," Akechi says, and when Akira tries to surreptitiously reach for his phone Akechi pulls his gun on him. "No - there's no Metaverse to hide in, no more tricks, no more games, Joker."
"It wasn't a game," Akira says, carefully. "Akechi - "
"Shut up," Akechi snaps. "I should have known it wasn't real, from that look on your face - "
Akira doesn't know what he means, what the cognitive version of him in Sae's Palace even said, but Akechi's knuckles are white around his gun's grip as he shakes his head. "I killed you once," Akechi says, and his voice barely falters. "I'll kill you again."
"Akechi," Akira says, again. He lets his hands fall to his sides, open and empty. "I'm already dead. The Phantom Thieves are over."
Akechi laughs, brittle and harsh. "And you're all just standing around the Diet Building for entertainment? No," he says. "No. You won't take this away from me."
"Shido," Akira says. "You must have seen his palace. You know he has to be stopped."
"And why do you have to be the one to stop him?" Akechi steps forward, eyes narrowed, until the metal of his gun is resting cold under Akira's chin. Akira lifts his head, watching him over the barrel. "Why do you have to have everything? You've stolen your life, your freedom, and now you want Masayoshi Shido's heart, too?"
"Akechi," Akira says, "if you want to take him down, we could - "
"There is no we!" Akechi hisses through gritted teeth. "Did you really think we were friends, Akira? Did you really think I cared about you?"
Akira says nothing. He keeps his gaze locked on Akechi's sharp, terrified eyes; he watches the hopeless fury in him bank itself, unfed.
"You're dead," Akechi repeats. "So what would it matter if I killed you?"
"It won't stop them," Akira says. His voice is remarkably steady. "It won't change anything. And… I think you know that, don't you."
"All I would have to do is whisper in his ear." Akechi's grip on his firearm doesn't waver as he steps forward, metal digging into Akira's throat. "One word from me and you'd all be dead and gone. No more Phantom Thieves, no more thorns in my side, no more - "
"Friends?" Akira suggests, and the press of Akechi's gun falters for a fraction of a second before he shoves Akira back against the wall, so hard Akira can feel it in his teeth.
"We're not friends," Akechi bites out, and takes a step back, the sights of his gun dropped as he lets his hand fall to his side. Perhaps it's because he knows Akira is weaponless. Perhaps it's not. "And here I thought you of all people might understand."
"I do," Akira says. "Understand. Because we're not enemies, Akechi."
"I don't know what you'd call an enemy," Akechi says, "if not your very own murderer."
"I don't know why you let Masayoshi Shido own you," Akira says, mildly, "when you know he doesn't care what happens to you. You're just one more loose end for him, Akechi - "
"I am vital to his operation," Akechi says. His eyes have gone flat and unreadable. "You don't know anything, Joker."
"You realise," Akira continues, mercilessly, "that your usefulness will dry up as soon as he reaches his goal. He wins the election and then all he has to do is remove his dead weight, the people who know just how he got there."
"I've made myself essential," Akechi says. "I can easily tear him down."
"Not if he tears you down first," Akira says. He chances a step forward, then another, closing the distance between them to an arms-length. "Help me understand, Goro. We both want to stop him; is his total public embarrassment not enough?"
"I want him dead," Akechi says. "I want him destroyed. I want to see his empire torn down from the inside out and I want to see his face when I pull the trigger, knowing what he made me - " He cuts himself off, simmering fury barely leashed as he eyes Akira warily. "Aren't you all too good for that, Joker?"
Akira says, "Yes. But so are you."
"Shut up!" Akechi snaps, and crowds him with a predator's grace, stalking forward and forcing Akira back. "You don't know anything. And here I thought there was something familiar in you, something like me - "
"There is," Akira says. "There is."
"Then where is it?" Akechi tosses his gun aside so it clatters on the floor and pushes him, eyes blazing with fire. "What makes you so important, Akira, Joker? What makes you the one who draws me in over and over as if you can't even tell I can't stand you!"
Akechi's hands are on his shoulders, his face bare inches away. Akira says, "Goro," and closes the gap and then Akechi is kissing him, hard enough to bruise. Akira pushes back, a hand on Akechi's school tie nearly strangling him; he pulls Akechi in and winds his fingers through his hair, catches his teeth on Akechi's lower lip and his leg between Akechi's thighs. Akechi shoves him against the wall, almost kicking over Akira's dead-looking houseplant, and kisses him until Akira's dizzy with it, breathless and aching and gasping for air. "Goro," Akira says, when Akechi pulls back; his hair is mussed wild, his mouth bruised and red, like Akira's peeled off his masks to see the beating heart of him.
"I won't let you win," Akechi says, eyes shadowed at half-mast. "It's me against you, Joker."
"Double or nothing?" Akira asks, slyly, and brushes a too-sweet kiss to Akechi's flushed cheek, then slips out from his loosened grip. He finds Akechi's gun from where it skittered near the sofa and picks it up, clicks on the safety, and offers it grip-first. "You know where I'll be."
Akechi takes it, eyes narrowed, and watches Akira with sharp eyes. "You're dead," he says, "and you're still not afraid?"
"No," Akira says. He smiles. "I'm playing for keeps."