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Goro Akechi can feel an incomprehensible sensation starting to overtake his mind.
It is the beginning of something euphoric, something empowering. He doesn't feel happy, but it feels like he was a few moments ago. As if he spent the entire day with people who actually care about him. He scoffs, and rotates his wrist, sloshing the remaining gin and ice around. His eyes dart throughout the posh dining room, confirming what he already knew.
He couldn't have spent the day with friends, because he doesn't have any. His chest tightens at the realization. Beyond that, he is here at the Wilton Buffet 'celebrating' with his father and boss, Masayoshi Shido.
'More like dragged against my will.' Akechi thinks with a bitter shake of the head, before raising the stout glass, and downing the rest of it. He nearly gags, as the clear liquid runs down his throat with an alien burn. Despite the odd, almost tender, feeling settling in, Akechi can still recall the only words his deadbeat father told him that day. Shido's words were welcome for a change.
The welcoming praise caused a fuzzy feeling to settle in his gut. For once, his composure was wearing thin. He glanced at the sun-glasses tinted, steely eyes, unsure of what to respond with. He settled with a simple, "Could you repeat that, sir?"
"Don't make me repeat myself, boy." Shido emphasized with disdain, shaking his head slightly. "I said you handled the Okumura problem without a hitch." Goro could feel his mouth dry up, and his legs twitched restlessly. An unwelcome smile threatened to beam across the detective's face.
'I... I have to try to resist this weakness.' Akechi thinks, as his hearts weeps at the thought of his late mother. 'If she could see me now... killing for her murderer, eating up his praise like a pathetic dog.' Akechi screamed internally, struggling to maintain his pleasant, composed facade. 'She'd be rolling in her grave.' A warm whispering breath kills his self-deprecating.
"You're a cut above these other fools." Shido nudges his bald head to the rest of the party-goers, dressed in suits and gowns. "You're my most trusted confidant, I could never have gotten this close to my goals without you."
Akechi couldn't hold back his reaction. "T-thank you, sir. I do my best."
'Nothing but a lapdog' Akechi's eyes threatened to water, but he stopped it.
"Here." Shido grunted as he threw a black, reflective piece of plastic at his assassin. Goro caught it and raised an eyebrow at what he saw.
'A credit card?'Akechi squinted at it, noting its gold engraving, and his signature, etched into the card with care. 'It looks quite prestigious.'
"I opened a line of credit for you, a reward for your hard work." Shido explains briefly, as he ascends the stairs to his private dining room. "Have a few drinks, mingle with some ladies, I don't really care. Just be sure to indulge responsibly, yes?"
The detective gave a curt nod and approached the lobby bar for a first drink. Akechi would try to heed Shido’s words, after all he didn’t want to wind up helpless around his true target.
The heady affect of drinking is new, and kills any thoughts of being responsible. Despite being underage, Goro can order drink after drink, because prestigious gatherings like Shido’s assume everyone's of age.
Akechi just manages to catch his fifth sliding glass, before it spills onto the floor. “Thanks.” He mutters, a little worried by how strange he sounds. He gulps the burning mixture down rather fast, and motions for another. What had started as experimenting, had quickly devolved into dangerous escapism.
He knew it was doing things to him, the alcohol. But it provides him with a newfound sense of clarity. These drinks make it easy to stop thinking about his mother or the guilt of working for the man who doomed him. He feels a little light on his feet, like he can take on the entire world.
He glances around the buffet dining room, full of tuxedo clad men and prim women, and giggles wistfully.
"Why am I here... hanging around these pretentious pricks?" Akechi mutters to himself quietly, swaying a little. Hazy thoughts of a quaint cafe filled with the scent of coffee, and a bespectacled, raven barista run through his head. The one place he feels at peace, at home. "I could... could be there right now." He realizes, with a light slur in his voice.
He stands up from the bar stool, rather clumsily as he pushes it over with a loud, reverberating crash. "See ya later, filthy rich fuckers." He shouts, muddy voice echoing throughout the room. A few scandalized stares from adults are sent his way. Akechi doesn't notice a single one, he just stumbles out the door, thoughts focused on getting to Cafe Leblanc, and finding that barista.
Akira glances at his phone and groans. It was already close to midnight. He knew if it wasn’t for the fact that Ann was pet sitting Morgana at her house, that he’d be getting more than an earful from his cat for staying out so late.
His eyes tighten and he puts his guard up, because just a few yards down the street he spots a slightly taller figure donned in a beige pea coat, and... one leather glove?
Akira raises a confused eyebrow, and approaches his rival. As he draws nearer, Akira can tell something is a little off. The detective isn’t walking towards any particular destination, rather he just sways from side to side, occasionally shambling a step or two forward. He seems off his game, Akira can recognize that much. If some thief or rabid fan girl were to ambush him, he doesn’t think the detective prince would stand a chance.
Akira creeps forward, legs shuffling carefully, as something feels off about this. He plops a foot into a deep puddle, and he silently cusses, as the other teen glances towards him. Akira is shocked to see Akechi’s eyes glow in recognition, before the detective hops up and down in place, like a kid in front of a birthday present.
”Akira... Akira! I’m so happy to see you, hehheh~” The raven shrinks back in a visceral reaction, as the slurred mangled sing-song reaches his ears. This chipper affection is so out of character for the calculating double agent, it almost scares Akira.
He gives the detective a once over. He's missing one of his trademark leather gloves, leaving a pale hand bare, and shivering from the cold. His striped necktie must have sneaked out from underneath his pea coat, because it dangles in the air. His cheeks are flushed, and his styled made-for-television haircut is disheveled, strewn about all over the place. He drips with sweat, breathing heavy and labored and his expression...
"Holy shit." Akira can't stop the exclamation.
Akechi’s mouth is stretched into the most genuine smile Akira thinks he’s ever seen. The raven can recall how Akechi's demeanor always seemed so rehearsed and fake. They were just a tool for him to control people's opinions, and a tool he used liberally at that. But right now his eyes are actually smiling alongside his mouth, forming beautiful crescent moon shapes, that twinkle with pure, authentic joy.
Ever since they met at the television studio a few months ago, Akira had a hard time getting Goro Akechi off of his head. He was too well put-together. His groomed, lithe features and sparkling maroon eyes definitely got to Akira, made his eyes wander a bit too much. And beneath appearances, Akira found himself intrigued. Because something... unnerving rested within the brunet. Akira could sense it. A strong grudge that sucked the life out of the detective prince, and made him into a two-faced manipulator.
But right now, Akechi's face glows with a child-like happiness. And Akira finds himself enamored by the sight. He wants to make Akechi look like that all the time, because seeing a cold, bitter person show such unrestrained light makes Akira smile too.
“What’re you staring at, something... something funny on my face?” Akechi asks giggly, as he tries to pull his phone out, presumably to check his face with the front camera, but he can’t manage to keep a grip on it. He drops it into a puddle, and the phone sinks with a plop. "Oopsy!" Akechi slaps his forehead.
Akira winces at the expensive-sounding static. “Are you feeling alright, Akechi?”
“Never better, honey.” He stumbles a bit, before stretching his arms and legs out to balance himself. “Ground’s just a lil’ wobbly, must be an earthquake or something..”
Akira ignores the fact that the ground was completely stable or the slight pang that runs through his heart at hearing the word 'honey'. He just wants to know what's going on with his supposed adversary. "What are you doing out so late, Akechi?"
"You guys are soooo funny," He nearly falls onto the gravel, but Akira rushes forward catching the loopy detective with his shoulder. "I'm..." Akechi's slurred voice becomes muddier, and Akira has to focus very hard to make out the meaning. "I'm seeing double, Akira." He giggles haplessly, shifting a shaky finger towards whatever he's looking at. His face shines with awe, entirely impressed by some imaginary thing. "You're... heh leaving after images. Is this... some new kind of Metaverse power?" Akechi starts to lob praise at the raven. "My god. Think... think of how powerful this could-" He groans, and clutches at his head, pausing the thought.
Akira's breath hitches in realization. He recalls his experiences talking to that journalist, Ohya Ichiko, how her words were often slurred, and her inhibitions cleared. She drank often, so it only made sense. Goro Akechi is mirroring her behavior right now, slurring his words, seeing things that don't exist, and swaying uncontrollably. Had he caught the detective prince, a prim and proper celebrity, shit-faced?
Akira strokes his chin, deep in thought. The detective had always seemed so in control, able to get the general public eating out of the palm of his hand. He can't imagine Akechi ever drinking alcohol. Surely there was another explanation for his state? Maybe Akechi had a sleep-walking problem?
The sound of a high-pitched, shrill cackle followed by a splash interrupts his wondering. Akira turns and has to squint to confirm the utter weirdness that greets him.
Goro Akechi sits there on the cold concrete ground, slacks soaked by the dirty puddle his rear is resting in.
"Akechi, you're drunk." It's a statement, not a question. Akira's mood darkens with caution as he glances at his watch. He needs to get the detective somewhere safe, before a mugger finds him.
"No, it's the distortion! It's getting even worse, my friend." He stands up with a shaky struggle, nearly falling again. He turns a gaze towards Akira, eyes full of resolve and chivalry. He tries to strike a heroic pose, right arm thrusting forward like something out of Phoenix Feathermen. "Don't worry though. My persona... Robin Hood has a secret power!" He snags Akira's arm, and forces his mouth close to his ear. "My Persona... he can fly!"
Akira can't hold back a breathless giggle. The sight of his bitter rival and crush like this was just too amusing. He tries to resist, but he just can't. He pulls out his phone, eager for blackmail material. Akira waggles his eyebrows in mock defiance. "Oh? I don't know if I buy that. Prove it."
Goro actually pouts, gaze averted and bottom lip sticking out. Akira forces a soft hand to his mouth, trying his best not to explode in laughter.
"B-but of course, Joker." Akechi pushes himself off of Akira, and does a dangerously uncoordinated jump backwards. He forms a fist with his bare hand, and slams it over his heart. He clenches his other hand tight at his side, completing what Akira thinks may be the dorkiest salute he's ever seen. The hammered detective cocks his head backwards, and bellows something so loud and ridiculous, that Akira wouldn't be surprised if all of Shibuya woke up. "ROBIN HOOD, PILLAGER OF THE RICH, GRANT ME STRENGTH!!!"
Akira falls apart. This experience is pure eye candy and music to his ears at the same time. It forces him to guffaw, tears flowing, squealing with such violent laughter, that his ribs start to hurt. He can't do anything but shake and gasp for air, as the detective continues his utterly hilarious display.
Akechi turns around, back facing Akira, and hands pressed against his sides smugly. Akira, who had somehow managed to regain his composure, surrenders to laughter again as he glances at Goro. With Akechi's back to him, Akira could see his drenched slacks, dripping with rainwater like a dirty rag. The inebriated detective brags in a slurred manner. "See, Akira? I always exceed your..." Akechi goes silent, body going a troubling still, and Akira worries Goro may have passed out while standing up. "... your expectashions."
'That's more true than you think...' Akira thinks, shaking his head in disbelief.
Akira thinks that's a good spot to quit filming, he tucks his phone back into his pocket. The time was nearing one in the morning, and he figures they really need to get somewhere safe.
"There, there Robin Hood. You've done... quite well, my- my loyal pershona." Goro praises, as he strokes a cold, metallic, public bench lovingly.
Akira's eye twitches.
"You'll fly ush out of here, yesh?" Akechi, still transfixed by the idea of flying his imaginary persona somewhere safe, beckons for Akira to 'mount' the bench alongside him.
Akira snaps another picture. He really couldn't wait to show these to Goro. Maybe he'd have to buy a couple frames. He knows it seems pretty mean, to record Akechi's humiliating moments of blunder, but this is just how their relationship is. He can recall how Akechi chortled for a full two minutes, after a botched trick shot sent a cue ball slamming against Akira's face. He apologized to Akira later, saying that he thought he was a tough guy who didn't need any help.
And Akira would be sure to do the same. He would apologize to Akechi. After he relished in his rival's embarrassment and glowing cheeks. After all, what goes around comes around. Their... friendship if it could be called that, was a constant struggle to one up each other.
"Robin Hood's so impressive, Akechi!" Akira offers, ecstatic tone similar to the one someone uses when playing with a toddler. "But my persona, Arsene, he can... uh... form a barrier around us. Then we can just walk there." Akira explains, hoping the detective was drunk enough to buy it.
Akechi staggers off of the bench, and blinks once then twice. He nods with enthusiasm. "Yeah, that'll... do better I'm shure! I'm running a little low on spirit pointsh anywaysh..."
As their stagger towards their destination, Akechi forms his right hand into a finger gun and aims it towards Akira's forehead. He sneers cockily. "Bang bang, got you Joker." His voice draws on the last word, holding it for a few seconds longer.
Akira sighs. Maybe something good, aside from that embarrassing video, would come out of this.
Akira manages to guide the stumbling, disoriented, detective to his attic bedroom. He huffs exhausted, as he gives Akechi a light push. The brunet lands onto Akira's bed with a plop.
He nests himself into the mattress a little, before obnoxiously mewling. A sound that makes Akira way too giddy. "God, our bed is so comfortable, thanks master, mmmmm." He's staring in adoration at the old CRT television, and Akira presumes he's looking at a illusory doppelganger again.
"Master?" Akira cocks an intrigued eyebrow.
"Yup! I'm... I'm your little... little Shiba right?" Goro manages, excitement shining through his mangled clarity.
Akira blushes, feeling his confusing feelings for his rival bubble up again. He knows he should just leave, let Akechi sleep his alcohol off, but curiosity persists. The kind that convinces people to keep looking at a burning, violent car crash. "Uhh... I guess so. You're my little Shiba."
Goro's face lights up with joy. "Yup, I knew it! The book my mom always read to me said Shibas are supposed to get a goodnight belly rub!" Akechi stares at Akira, pure unbridled adoration in his eyes. He waits expectantly, snuggling into the plain comforter- an adorable sight that makes Akira recoil. His breath hitches, and tears start leaking from Akechi's eyes. "My mom always used to give me one... "
Akira sighs forlorn at the mentions of Akechi's mom. Despite only knowing him for a few months, Akira can tell Akechi doesn't have many people in his life. He can infer that something foul had to have happened to her. He shakes his head, feeling some sort of altruistic instinct overtake him. All he wants to do is comfort the detective. Even if fate wants to pit them against one another, Akira will rebel. He'll show anyone, even someone who's plotting his murder, human dignity.
He places a hesitant hand on Goro's tummy, scratching it slowly but surely. Goro mewls a little, wiggling himself deep into the comforter and Akira finds himself getting way too into it. He varies his pace, from scratching to rubbing soothing circles. All throughout Goro sighs content, burrowing into the blankets, making a nice little nest for his sleepy body. The experience makes Akira's heart go warm and fuzzy. Nearly two minutes later, Akira's eyes widen, and his cheeks flush. He can't believe how overboard he went with Akechi's request.
"There, now go to sleep, Akechi. I'll check on you in the morning."
"Mmmm... thanks, Aki." Akechi yawns, nuzzling against the lone pillow like a puppy to its mother. He mutters, "You're... you're my only friend. Did you know that, Aki?" His eyes finally close, breathing slowing to a steady rise and fall.
Akira's eyes widen, and his breath hitches. He'd never heard the detective be so... vulnerable before. Tears begin to form in the corners of Akira's eyes. He reflects on all the times they hung out before. Their rivalry at the pool hall and batting cage, their late night visits to the jazz clubs, and their chats at Leblanc. He enjoyed his company more than anyone else, despite the charged tension that filled every moment. How could a traitor, someone fated to oppose him, cause such desperation inside him. All he wants to do is make Goro's hurt stop, and he has no idea how. "I... I want to help you. Please let me." He bites his lip, holding back a sad wail.
The detective doesn't respond. He snores away, dead to the waking, sober world. It's a sight that causes a strange sensation to run through Akira. He wants to help he really does. He knows Goro's planning to back-stab him in about a week, but still Akira can sense something is off. There's more to the celebrity underneath the surface, and Akira can only hope he can unravel that soon. Before it’s too late.
"I'm sorry, Akechi." Akira turns Goro gently onto his side, in case he up chucks in his sleep. One final, solitary, sympathetic thought runs through Akira's head. He'd never drank alcohol before, but even he could tell.
"That hangover is going to hit you like a fucking truck."
Goro Akechi now knows what it feels like to be a vampire. Glaring, painful sunlight penetrates the blinds, amplifying his pounding headache. He groans in pure agony, as his body twitches back and forth- desperate to get a few more minutes of shut eye, to turn his brain off until this unbearable pain passed.
'Wait a minute...' Goro lets out a shriek of panic.
He can remember last night at the Wilton Buffet. Drinking far too much alcohol, and haziness overtaking his rationale mind. Beyond leaving the buffet, he can recall nothing else. But he realizes he's not wearing his pea coat or slacks. He's laying half nude on a foreign, dingy feeling futon. The room is cramped, and homely. He recognizes it almost immediately.
'What am I doing in Kurusu's attic?!'
The sound of creaking stairs makes his breath catch. He clutches the comforter and covers his exposed body. The sight of black, frizzy hair confirms his worst fears. Last night his rival had seen him inebriated and vulnerable.
"Oh." Akira pauses his quiet creep, carrying a tray of steaming coffee mugs. "Good morning, sleepyhead!"
"Here. You must feel awful." Akira sets a mug and some ibuprofen on the nightstand.
Akechi brings the mug to his lips, and forces the ibuprofen down. The coffee tastes wonderful as always. The perfect balance of bitter and acidic. Even better than Sojiro's, but he would never be brave enough to divulge that secret to the bearded owner. He doesn't let himself get too complacent though. He's resting in Akira's attic. He needs to remind his fated rival who's in charge.
"You've got two minutes to explain yourself, Kurusu." His tone is cold, backed by a silent, dangerous threat.
Akira's resolve hardens. Last night he came to a realization. He wanted, no he needed, to help Akechi. The problem is trying to help someone so stubborn and proud, that they don't think they could possibly need help. That realization convinced him to try this risky gambit out. "Here I think a picture and a video tell the story better."
He holds his phone out, and Akechi nearly keels over at the photo. He sits there mounting a public bench like a horse, loopy grin on his face, cheeks absolutely flushed, elegant suit tussled and messy.
'Utterly shameful.' Akechi's heart aches. Once again he messed up. He strove off the path of vengeance. How was he supposed to gain retribution for his late mother, when he was such a disgraceful disaster?
"Kurusu... What do I-"
"Quiet, Akechi." Akira swipes, and plays a video next.
This time Goro's eyes and ears suffer as he's treated to the sight of himself prancing like a lunatic. He winces as he recognizes the salute: Feather Crow's signature pose from his favorite show as a child. The sound of his slurred call to his Persona makes Akechi's entire face go ablaze with red. Tears threaten to pool over.
"G-go ahead, Kurusu!" Akechi slams a fist against the nightstand, making coffee splash onto the wood. "Make fun of me! I'm such a foolish failure."
"No. I won't. In fact I want to make an offer." Akira's voice bellows, far more serious than Akechi had ever heard before. The brunet squints, gaze distrusting and cautious.
Akira inhales to calm his nerves. "We've spent so much time around each other, Akechi. Imagine it, the leader of the Phantom Thieves, and the detective assigned to capture them. Yet..." Akira softens his gaze, eyes becoming somber and cloud-like. "We share an intimate friendship."
Akechi averts his eyes, staring at the blanket, pure shame spread across his face. It was difficult hearing his latest target talk so highly about him; his soon-to-be murderer.
"And I know about your ulterior motives too. How you're willing to murder me to achieve some goal." At this Akechi's mouth dries up and an awkward, painful silence settles in. Akira sighs at the terrified detective. "But I know you're a victim too. A Persona means you've accepted your rebellious side, have refused to bend to someone's will. There must be some good in someone with that potential." Akira reasons, though he not sure if he's reasoning with himself or Akechi at this point. "I... I want to free you from this darkness. Life can get better, I know it can." Akira practically begs, pained, steely eyes staring into resigned, ruby ones.
"Kurusu..." Akechi's weak utterance borders so close to silence, that it can scarcely be called speech.
"We're different sides of the same coin. I was blessed with abundance, you were cursed with scarcity..." Akira places a comforting hand on the blanket, making Akechi's heart ache. "I want to be the first gift to you. Something that can pull you out of the void you're trapped in." Akira pulls something out of a shopping bag and nearly forces it into Goro's hand. "Here. Proof of my determination."
'A Shiba... just like my mom's book.' He squeezes it in disbelief, hands careful like it were made of delicate tissue paper. Tears cascade openly now, and Goro wracks his neck around, whimpering and sobbing. He clutches the stuffed dog close to his face, like it were life support.
"I-I can't bear life without her!"
"I understand, Goro."
"That bastard who killed her! He deserves to hurt as much as I do!"
"Yes, he does."
"I deserve to be sad! It's my fault she's dead!"
"No, Goro. You deserve to be happy. I want you to get past this."
The verbal exchange continues for some time. Goro's confessions become more frantic and pitiful as time passes. Akira remains supportive, only wanting to calm his friend down, to foster some hope in a hopeless life. Eventually the two come to a silent agreement. Akechi begging for forgiveness, and Akira reaffirming, that there's nothing to apologize for. Akira hopes his light can illuminate Goro's life.
It has to. He knows it will.