Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

"Isn't there some way to get this open, Mona?!" That question is the last thing he hears before the buzz in his head drowns everything into silence.

The bullet wound doesn't hurt as much as he thought it would. It's a starburst of pain before he shuts his eyes. He's seen enough death to know how utterly appalling it looks sometimes when someone dies with their eyes open, and even now he would never let himself look so undignified.

In the end, it doesn't really take that long. He's almost surprised. Akechi would have thought his cognitive double would've shot at a less immediately fatal place just to make him feel more pain.

But no, darkness came quickly.

And it was so did Goro Akechi, one of life's greatest jokes, come to an end.

Death is more peaceful that he thought.

There's no Hell, no pearly gates, no holy judgement. Just a sensation like he's constantly falling. Like a small speck of light in the infinite darkness of space, his soul falls like rain into a far-off sea that stretches to some eternity he couldn't see. The sea is a stream of beautiful light in the darkness that leads infinitely, marches on and on, and Akechi finally understands what it is. Humanity.

There's plenty of time, and no time at all until he's sitting at the very edge of this vast sea. Unlike all the other souls that seemed drawn towards merging immediately with the sea to spread their own strands of light alongside their brethren, Akechi still finds enough of himself to hold back.

Once he touches this sea, he instinctually knew, he would immediately be erased. Everything that made the being called Goro Akechi would immediately be merged into the grand tapestry of humanity's past.

He lingers, feeling inexplicably… not scared. No. Akechi had known he'd been dancing on the edge of death ever since he'd signed that deal with Shido. No, what he feels is the same feeling that had defined him in life, haunting him now in death. It isn't hatred, to his surprise, it's—

It's Loki's scream whenever he tore his mask off, it's his anger whenever the anniversary of his mother's death rolled around. It's the despair he felt when he realised he played right into Shido's hands, the pained regret when he learnt of the way the Phantom Thieves stole hearts. Ultimately though, it's…

Dissatisfaction.

Yes, that's it. He feels so unsatisfied.

Dissatisfaction was what burnt him until he couldn't breathe when he was younger, wondering what was so different about him. His foster parents waiting for government allowances, tittering behind his back about his dead mother ('suicide suits a prostitute, doesn't it?' They ask as if he'd nod and smile and agree.) His teachers turning a blind eye to the bullying until it suited them ('Akechi's a bastard, and Takumi's parents are on the school board. Isn't the choice obvious?')

His dissatisfaction fanned the hatred that came with the utter piece of shit that his father turned out to be, it fuelled the happiness when he was acknowledged, for once, even if his actions went transformed slowly from innocuous to murderous…

Society deserved it, anyway. They were the ones who turned him into someone who looked at Shido for validation.

Let it burn to the ground like the trash heap it was.

(A smidgen of his heart protested – it recalled Akira, on a quiet night, cleaning a glass as he sipped his coffee. He remembered how the low lights reflected off the lens of his glasses, hiding the calm grey gaze he knew was underneath. Joker's energy and ingenuity was always hidden underneath an unassuming, near genteel exterior, and the small smile that he sent his way when he noticed Akechi was looking…)

No matter, his soul's still burning with injustice, and it's that fire that lets Akechi dig against the pull of peace warmth safety harmony. He watches the endless stream of souls joining the sea with the growing edge of fury he'd always lived with, shooting a glare at the pulsing, gentle white brilliance.

He would never step in. It's with that thought in mind that Akechi begins a lonely trek at the edge between the Sea and the Void.

Let his continued existence be his last act of defiance against the people who wished to erase him.

How long did he float along the edge of the sea? There's nothing there that he could see as he did his slow travel forward. Just the Sea, the souls that re-joined with it, and the background of space. His stubbornness leads him to travel far, far from the entrance he came from until the universe starts trembling darker than he's ever seen it. It throbs now as if it is alive.

Slowly, alongside the writhing darkness, comes a speck of light. The first speck of colour since he's died. Like a moth to a flame, Akechi can't help but shift his direction slightly and head towards it.

As Akechi draws nearer, he finds it's a golden door, floating in defiance of all the darkness. Something in him instinctively realises it's protecting something against the writhing darkness that holds an intimately familiar taste.

And as he draws nearer still, for the first time in eternity, Akechi feels something gazing at him, a bright burst of regard that culminates in a voice that echoes in his head.

The voice says curiously, before the Sea bleeds away in front of his eyes, washing his surroundings into a scene of an unfamiliar school rooftop. In front of him sits an expressionless boy with blue hair, who raises a hand rather lackadaisically when Akechi just stands there, blinking in confusion, a polite smile already teetering on his lips.

The boy's mouth doesn't move, even when his voice rings in his head.

"Isn't that my question?" Akechi asks back, carefully seating himself on one of the curved chairs facing the boy. The blue-haired boy doesn't react, letting his hand fall back down onto the seat he was sitting on.

Akechi smiles, familiar with the fake motion. "You sound a little unsure?"

The other boy, Minato, smiles a small one like he wasn't much used to it.

"Goro Akechi," Akechi replies and Minato nods without much facial expression, seeming quite content to continue to sit there and watch him with unblinking eyes. Sometimes he fiddles with his school uniform, which… Akechi squints. That uniform is familiar. Wasn't that school fairly famous? "You're a student of Gekkoukan?"

Minato looked honestly surprised that he noticed, glancing down at himself.

Minato properly looks at Akechi's blood-splattered clothing, Loki's belted bodysuit still wrapped around his form as it had been in his last moments. The stripes are stark and comical compared to the normal school uniform Minato's wearing.

Akechi's face burns.

"No, you misunderstand, this isn't what I usually wear, it's my cognition of rebellion against my father—"

At Minato's guileless eyes, Akechi stops himself. "No, you probably wouldn't understand. May I ask, what do you mean by time? How long have you been here?"

"It's 2016 now," Akechi says, watching as Minato's face immediately becomes a few shades more wistful, the world's faintest frown etching itself on his brow as he looks beyond Akechi. For a few moments, Minato is lost in the swirling galaxy above them.

Minato trails off, obviously in thought, before his eyes rest back on Akechi. They're gentle, for all that's worth, but Akechi hadn't been met with genuine kindness for so long that he relaxes against it anyway.

"Where are we?" Akechi asks to distract himself, looking around the dim school rooftop, the clean lines underneath a starry sky. Minato lets himself look around the rooftop he conjured with a sense of nostalgia.

Minato's voice is a touch amused, before his eyes land inevitably at the bullet hole in his chest.

Akechi laughs a little at himself, a note of derision sliding in as he covers the bullet hole with a hand.

"What's there to say?" Akechi starts, thinking of grey eyes, their quiet focus. The alarm in Akira's eyes when he let the door slam down, the aborted step forward. Is he glad that Akira didn't make it under, that he wasn't there as he died? Who knows. "I was a fool. I betrayed someone, got betrayed in return, then died because I was never good enough."

Minato tilts his head to the side, blue eyes intent.

The voice that echoes in his head is matter of fact, but also unassuming, anticipatory. That tone scratches something familiar in his heart, of the proud clunk of a cup of coffee being placed in front of him, and a wry twist of the mouth that he would classify as a smirk on anyone but Akira.

("Working on a case?" Akira would lean over the counter, trying his best to squint at his notes backwards. That would make Akechi give him a look, making him back off with a small grin, pushing a cup of coffee between them instead as an unrepentant apology offering.)

Yes, Akechi takes a moment to assess the boy in front of him. Minato somehow reminds him of Akira.

Akira, who brought a whole slew of unwelcome memories.

Akechi turns away from Minato with his politest, vaguest smile.

He's dead, anyway. Did those things in life really matter? He is a pragmatist, a murderer, and a desperate, pathetic man. He was a person who burnt everything to ashes in his single-minded plan to take revenge. That plan is in ashes now, his ambition given to a group he knows will succeed.

There's no need to air out his life choices to the first stranger he met, even if they were kind.

Is Minato's unruffled reply, and that was that. The other boy settles down into a more comfortable position, never moving those unblinking eyes that seem to be trained eternally on Akechi's face.

Akechi thinks, just a little bitterly, that Minato is probably doing that on purpose.

Nosy.

Just like another certain somebody he knows.

Akechi cracks eventually. Minato is very, very patient.

His story comes out in drips and drabbles, between other conversations that they start about more mundane things. It comes between Akechi admitting his love for pancakes, and Minato sharing his love for music, all bands a little too out of trend for Akechi to know.

When his story does come – his mother's suicide, the neglectful foster parents, his bastard politician of a father – Minato listens with his same unblinking stare, sometimes nodding, sometimes giving considering hums as Akechi starts delving into details about the Metaverse, Personas, and Akira, the Multi-Personaed Golden Boy himself. His murders, his regret that always came too late, too little, too easily washed away by approval. Loki, and insanity. Being a pawn.

For the first time, Akechi shares his whole story with another being.

(He really isn't sure if Minato is human anymore.)

It's surprisingly relieving.

Minato's reply to it all is even more inexplicable.

Minato starts frowning after he pieces everything together, pillowing his head in his hands as he lays back to stare upwards. The universe continues to swirl over the school rooftop in lazy spirals, casting Minato's thoughtful features in gentle relief.

When Akechi doesn't bother to hide his curiosity, his polite smile long ditched for something much more honest, Minato shoots him a small smile before launching into a tale of his own.

Another orphan, another tragedy, with an utterly different ending. There is still betrayal, heartbreak and mystery, but Akechi listens to a fantastical tale of an antisocial boy who grew to love humanity because of his friendships, who ultimately sacrificed himself so that humanity could continue.

Minato's gentle smile overlapped one with a sharp grin, blue eyes melded into grey. Another antisocial boy who found friendship, who Akechi no-doubt knew would sacrifice himself for the lives of his friends.

"Are you an idiot?" Akechi manages to say, after all of that. There were some things in life he couldn't deny, and one of them was that no matter how creepy Minato's staring can be, Akechi knew that Minato was a very rare good person. One of those he would've spared a few weeks' worths of regrets and nightmares over if Shido had ordered them to be killed. "You're worth a million of the people you protect."

Scum like himself. Shido. The disgusting criminals and murderers that he'd read in his case files every day, who killed and stole and argued and then played the victim in the end.

Minato's laugh is soft and oddly rewarding to hear. It had the shy quality of someone who didn't laugh often, and Akechi couldn't help but feel his anger calm alongside it. This whole relationship with Minato is delightfully simple. Just two people, speaking to stave off the vast emptiness of the beyond.

That they are two Persona users, and Wildcards at that (Minato's story has put… a definite sense of importance on things he'd never considered), is irrelevant.

Perhaps this is what it feels like to have a friend. Akechi gives Minato his full attention when he starts to speak again.

Akechi's resultant face says it all, and Minato laughs again as if they were sharing a joke before it slowly peters away into a serious disbelief.

"Feel what?" says Akechi shortly, and Minato scrunches up his brows in confusion as he sits up and peers straight at Akechi. Then he places a hand on Akechi's forehead.

Akechi pushes down the urge to flinch back as Minato's hand starts to glow white and transparent. With a push, Minato's fingers sink deep into his head, digging for something in his brain. After a solid minute, Minato's form starts shaking with effort before with a grunt of success, he clenches something and draws back, crushing whatever is in his hand into dust with an expression of exhaustion. He tilts his head to the side as he watches Akechi curl into himself in pain.

"What did you do to me?!" Akechi rasps, fingers digging into his hair as a flood of information swirls into his mind.

Priestess Rank 1 – Makoto Niijima

Emperor Rank 1 – Yusuke Kitagawa

Hierophant Rank 3 – Sae Niijima

Fool Rank 9 – Akira Kurusu

Justice Rank 10 – Masayoshi Shido

Universe Rank 10 – Minato Arisato

"Your full name is Minato Arisato?"

When he looks at Minato, now there's an unbelievable amount of warmth that he never feels as if that feeling of friendship that he had just been wondering about had widened into a wide channel of pure acceptance and trust.

Akechi has never trusted anyone like this in his life.

(He feels vaguely sick.)

It takes a moment for Akechi to push all this into the back of his mind, before he glances up at Minato, who has settled back into his chair, trying not to shudder at another rush of trust warmth acceptance that he feels when he does so.

"Did Akira…?"

Akechi couldn't help but gasp into a stretch of slightly mad laughter there. The sheer, fucking irony of him being Akira's moral compass. Akira, the golden boy.

Compared to what? His own Justice is Shido. He's corrupt to the core, isn't he?

Well, Akechi thought, somehow their bond is Rank 10. Even higher than Akira's, and Akira had been the very first person to… The very first person he'd…

Well.

Minato's smile this time is even more horror-inducingly warm and friendly than before. Akechi leans back with goose-bumps at the sight of it.

"Stop that, that's… I'm not used to it."

The other boy teasingly widens his smile for a tad before letting it drop.

The next look Minato sends him is a complicated one.

"It's not like I can do anything about that anymore," Akechi shrugs, his hands finding the bullet hole still in his chest. "And if the world is changed, that's double the blessing. Society is finally fixed, and you can go free."

Minato's smile widens, and in it, Akechi thinks he could see the determined boy in Minato's story, daring to face despair again, and again, and again in death and eternity… for the people he learned to love.

Chapter Text

Minato's explanation is simple.

With a wave of his hand, he lets the façade of the school rooftop drop, and Akechi finds himself floating at the edge of Sea again having barely left where he had been before Minato scooped him up. The Sea's gentle glow is nothing next to the large golden door he now faces though, something that he notes with a bit of disgust was panelled with twitching eyes.

It's not as if he hasn't seen anything stranger with his adventures in Mementos, but the element of rejection is still there as he lets his eyes truly capture what he had only seen a glimpse of before.

Chains – dozens, all looped around the door. A great seal binding the stone figure of Minato with it.

Minato's disaffected voice resounds in Akechi's head as Akechi's widened eyes take the whole scene in. It was one thing to know your newly made friend was some sort of modern Messiah figure, and another entirely to be confronted to his eternally chained form himself.

"Why?"

He knew, didn't he? Akechi was, is, the pathetic boy who would have let the world he tried so hard to save burn to the ground if it could've let him have his one selfish wish of destroying Shido.

There must be so many more who deserve a chance at redemption than him.

"You're, you're insane."

That's all Akechi can choke out as he battles to breathe. Do the right thing? His whole life was a series of bad decisions and selfishness. His sense of fairness had disappeared somewhere in the orphanage when the older kids stole everyone's food, and morality flew completely out the window when Shido smiled and praised him when he presented him with another successful mental breakdown. He is the complete opposite of the literal saint that Minato is, that he obviously thought Akechi could also be. Was that the other boy's naivety or insight?

It figures, doesn't it, that the second person who would ever believe in himself came after he's dead, when everything is over and done with.

Why? Why didn't he meet Akira, Minato, sooner?

"Minato, I've long lost what it means to do the right thing," he tries again. Minato's frozen features don't reply, and Akechi struggles to not lose himself into a wild fit of near-manic giggles, managing to compose himself by folding his fingers together and taking a deep breath. "I'm a horribly selfish person," he continues, telling himself to breathe, breathe, don't laugh, don't burn, don't expect, don't hope, "and I really, really don't care about the world you're trying to save."

Minato's voice fades away, and Akechi listens, still, silent. Wondering. Minato's sightless eyes stare over him, unjudgmental. Standing there, he feels strangely like an undeserving sinner, praying for succour to a God underneath the shadow of the golden door, bathed in its eerie warm glow. Minato believes and accepts him, even in his ugliest, most defeated form, and it's heavy. It's a weight that grounds him as he stares at the willingly trapped form of his friend, and in the end, it is Akechi that pulls his eyes away and heaves out a deep sigh of exasperation.

What a choice. Is he willing to go through all of that again? Akechi might be a little more worn down, after his long talk with Minato. A little less blinded, maybe, from his recognition that Shido will never recognise him. Still, it isn't an entirely abhorrent idea. Even now, something burns viciously in Akechi's chest at the thought of the world going on without him, after having stolen everything away from him.

And perhaps. There may be a person he wants to see again.

"…I can't promise anything. But I'll try saving the world."

Minato's stone statue is worn and cracked, like a sad weathered fountain in an old public park – vague and worn and obviously expressionless. But when Akechi looks at it, he feels like he could imagine his smile, the slight warmth in his words. It is the easy familiarity that he'd once dreamed of when watching Featherman R and his merry band of friends saving the world. It's the thing he'd hated, burning in envy when he saw the same camaraderie in the Phantom Thieves, something that was never extended to him.

Akechi says nothing to Minato in return, just letting the image of him chained to the door burn into his mind, unblinking even against the white glow that builds around Minato the longer he stands there. Whiter, brighter, as if the dawn itself was blossoming in Minato's chest before the light rolled over him in a wave.

Then he is gone.

It is suddenly dark. Instead of Minato's strangely warm presence, there's a large hulking shadow in front of him, who looks at him now with a hint of impatience in the line of his mouth, the familiar face of dismissal still somehow hurtful even after all the things that man had done to him. Emotions, of course, are illogical.

"Well?" Shido's impatient scowl hides a vein of calculation, a finger tapping the table as he glares at Akechi through his glasses. His murderer. His father. "Have you taken enough time to check the contract? I'm a very busy man."

Akechi blinks, startling when the clench of his fingers makes the paper in his hands' crinkle.

Breathe in. The smell of leather, carpet, cleaner. No stardust, no emptiness.

A ceiling, no stars.

Minato's gone.

Instead, Shido replaces him, sitting in the dim shadows of crystal lamps, eyes unreadable behind his tinted glasses. The air-conditioning in the other room whirs smoothly to life, bringing a wave of cold air to his feet.

Minato threw him right in front of Shido.

And because it is Shido, he doesn't allow himself to process or think. "Oh, my apologies," he slips back into old habit, sliding a well-practised smile on his face. It feels oily and plastic after talking for so long with Minato, but any time with Shido is no time to lose control. "I was just scanning over the small-text, please wait a moment more."

When he looks down, the contract that he's holding is more than familiar. This was what he'd been presented with when he approached Shido after he had saved him with the powers of the Metaverse. The white hands that hold the paper is a surprise – he hadn't started to wear his gloves yet when he was fifteen and brimming with petty teenage ambitions.

A brief glance around tells him that they were sitting in one of Shido's more nondescript high-rises, with dim lights to show off the floor to ceiling windows to his immediate left. The beautiful multi-coloured spread of the Tokyo nightscape is a sight for sore eyes, the glitter playing off the sleek elegant trimmings of the apartment.

He can't take too much time though, or Shido would get suspicious. A quick glance over the contract reminds him exactly what he'd agreed to when he was still too young, too stupid.

His very first contract with Shido stipulated Akechi would agree to three things:

1. Never reveal that he had a connection with Shido

2. Never reveal the Metaverse to anyone without Shido's permission

3. Weekly experiments to test the limits of the possibilities of the Metaverse under Shido's supervision and suggestion

In return, Shido will provide three things in return:

1. Complete emancipation as a legal adult

2. Provision of an apartment with a weekly living stipend as long as he continues experimentation with Shido

3. Akechi's continued safety during Metaverse experimentation

Akechi has to stop himself from succumbing to derisive laughter. It's too easy to remember what happened last time. Dazzled by the expensive apartment and Shido's regard, Akechi had pretended to be confident as he put his name down on both copies of the contracts after merely skimming it, buoyed with the hummingbird happiness of his impending freedom. An adult with his own apartment. Imagine that, his younger self jittered. He could finally be free.

Being secure with his knowledge that he was irreplaceable as the only person with access to the Metaverse filled him with arrogant self-importance that, in hindsight, Shido had fanned for his own benefit.

Shido now shifts in his seat, leather creaking in the silent room.

Akechi smiles as he places the paper onto the low table in between them. In the future, Shido would hold their meetings in his office, with a large imposing table in between with nowhere for Akechi to sit as he gave his reports.

"I'm happy with these conditions. I only have a few questions I want to ask," Akechi says smoothly, bringing his hands politely back to his lap, but letting one of his fingers fidget with a seam in his pants. "What sort of apartment are you promising me? And please enlighten me now upon how I'm going to access my weekly stipends without revealing our connection."

Shido frowns, heavy brows pulling together as he draws himself forward, subtly mirroring Akechi's posture in his shoulders. Masterful. Putting pressure while still maintaining a sense of camaraderie with him. No wonder his fifteen-year-old self sank so deep, so fast.

"I have a few apartments under a different identity that you can choose from if the choice is so important to you," Shido's voice is a deep rumble with an impatient tone, carefully tempered to show that he was holding back his schedule for Akechi's unreasonable demands. Be grateful you're even here, his body posture said, one of crafted dismissal. Akechi smiles, unfazed. "For the money, I will give you a card like this for you to draw your weekly funds from. I trust that you will not misuse it."

Shido smoothly pulls a credit card from his wallet and places it on the table in plain sight. It's an obvious play to appeal to his past self's thirst for power and independence, and Akechi lets himself fall into the role of a poor orphan, leaning forward with interest before controlling his expression and bowing.

"Thank you, Shido-san. If there's a selection of apartments I can browse, I will gladly accept your offer," Akechi says.

Shido's gaze is dark and assessing as he pulls a phone out of his pocket and taps out a number.

"Give me a summary of available apartments I own not under the name Masayoshi Shido," he barks into the phone before he goes back to his quiet assessment of Akechi, his fingers steepled.

Akechi smiles over his own annoyance. Vigilant as always. The quiet between them didn't last for long, however, as Shido soon passes him a pad which scrolled to show a few select apartments in Tokyo.

Glossy pictures scroll under his fingertips, of various apartments in various locations. Shibuya, Akiba, and even Roppongi pass under his fingertips, and Akechi makes sure to scroll with an appropriately excited face even as he sneered in his heart.

Last time he had been given an apartment in a nondescript residential location close enough to his school, and he hadn't questioned Shido's offer until five months in. One day, he had opened the air-conditioning unit to check how clean the filters were and found a small spy-cam.

After the initial shock, Akechi had averted his eyes, not brave enough to remove it.

Was this a powerplay by Shido or was this supposed to be hidden from him forever? That moment of indecision had lasted an eternity as he carefully ignored the spy-cam and took out the filter as if nothing was wrong. He closed the lid, near unbreathing as he walked to the washing room and chucked them in the sink. Then he power-walked to the door, hastily grabbing a scarf and hurtling outside into the snow that always came alongside Christmas.

He'd clutched a mug of hot coffee with white-lipped desperation in the café a few streets down, surrounded by Christmas jingles and happy couples, and only left when a friendly waiter started to close the shop down around him.

In the end, he returned to that apartment. It wasn't as if he had enough money to move out to his own place. Even his daily living expenses came from Shido.

Despite that, he couldn't help his finger from stopping on the cold glass of the pad when he sees a picture of his past apartment. It's a small dingy grey thing, and not even the best efforts of the photographer could've made those streaked grey walls and bare concrete flattering.

But Flat A402 had been the first and last place that he'd ever had of his own, even if it had been an illusion. His very first safe haven.

Shido interrupts his nostalgia when he lingers for a second too long.

"Have you chosen?"

Widening his smile, Akechi clicks the pad off and places it back onto the table. Just before he starts speaking, he lets his left hand fiddle with his cuff.

"Thank you, I truly appreciate your offer, Shido-san. But may I offer a solution that may prove easier for everyone involved?"

Lean forward, tilt your head just enough to expose enough of the neck, smile focused on the eyes. This was the best opportunity – Shido did not know him yet, was trying to figure him out.

But he knows Shido.

"As you undoubtedly know, I have a full scholarship at Shogaku High. They have dormitories alongside excellent security, due to their reputation as one of the best schools in Tokyo. They also have an excellent location near Roppongi's major transit station."

Shido frowns, and Akechi didn't miss the small flash of surprise in his eyes that's quickly repressed. "You don't wish to own your own apartment?" Shido asks slowly, shifting backwards to lean on his couch without breaking eye contact, clearly contemplating.

"No," Akechi says, and decides to throw him a bone. He still needs to appear controllable, after all. "A dormitory room will be fine, Shido-san. But I will gladly accept the credit card."

Akechi smiles, one of his more gentle ones. He knows how it makes him look less threatening, friendly and maybe even a little naive.

Shido's eyes now holds a reassessing gleam, looking at Akechi with more interest than he'd ever had in his previous life. He writes the extra additions into the contract and gives Akechi the new copy. Now, it's absolutely clear where he would get the stipend from, and the apartment stipulation had changed to the dormitory.

"Thank you. May I sign here?"

Unlike last time, his hand is steady and dry as he reaches out for the heavy fountain pen on the coffee table and signs both copies of the contract without a line out of place. In silence, Shido does the same, before handing him his copy and keeping the other himself.

There're a few seconds where the two look at each other, before Shido's shadowed eyes narrow in contemplation.

"You… may be more interesting than I thought," Shido admits, smile holding a hint of expectation.

Before Akechi can respond, the world freezes. A cold breath, a feeling like the pressure of the Other Side holds him down as a voice echoes in his head.

Heart thundering and eyes wide, Akechi manages to fumble a "Th-thank you" instead of whatever he had planned, bowing formally before quickly walking out when Shido waves a hand in dismissal.

The hot, humid air of midsummer hits Akechi in a heavy blast of chatter, smoke, and energy, as he walks out of the beautiful elegance of the foyer back into the busy late-night streets. He pushes forward against the crowds of Tokyo, clutching the folder holding his contract close to his chest as his mind whirls. Did his refusal of Shido's offered path change Shido's role as Justice?

But moreover, did Minato… Did he reset all his Arcanas too? Was it a true reset, of everything?

With a quiet sense of panic, he reaches into that quiet place of his soul and breathes a small sigh of relief.

Devil Rank 1 – Masayoshi Shido

Universe Rank 10 – Minato Arisato

Minato is still there.

And Shido… The Devil.

Akechi hums a little at the thought that he isn't as irredeemable as he thought. His feet lead him down the street, suppressing laughter bubbling out from somewhere deep in his chest, an uncontrollable elation.

Although he would've preferred it if Minato hadn't dropped him straight in front of Shido right as they were signing their first contract (because Minato, why? Not even half an hour sooner? Even a few days would have let him avoid Shido altogether), he now has a chance to change… to change everything.

Akira, bleeding out under his bullet, and the complicated wave of relief, guilt, anger and utter hatred when he'd come out alive, reunited with his friends, ready to tackle Shido. Akira, who had everything – a guide like Morgana, a band of friends ready to die for him on the bat. Of course he would come back alive through a miraculous plot, surrounded by friends, facing the dastardly villain of his story in righteous determination.

(Akira, all too happy to see him on a late-night, greeting him with a rare smile that he treated few people with. LeBlanc's TV turned down to a background hum, Akira listening attentively as Akechi carefully selected what to say for the day, knowing whatever he said would be accepted with a nod, a quiet quip, focused eyes. Akechi… hadn't hated that. Would have gladly left Akira alone if Shido hadn't…)

Why did their Arcana stop at Rank 9?

It's the question that buzzes in the back of his mind as it takes him an embarrassing amount of time to remember where his last foster family lives – a small apartment in Akiba, near a few neon-lighted love hotels that lit his room up in a sickly shade of pink when he slept.

Two years changes little, in the long run, but more than a few things definitely lay forgotten. Akechi stares at the security keypad until the gatekeeper, who obviously recognises him, takes pity and just buzzes him in. It's the only first-floor apartment, the cheapest one – and the corridor is dark and gloomy when he opens the door. The small dripping sounds of the kitchen faucet accompany him as he methodically takes off his shoes and pads into his room, turning on all the lights as he passes them to his room.

If he remembers correctly, the father had a major pachinko addiction, and the mother struggled to support the two as a cashier in a local store. They had only taken a foster kid in for the government benefits.

They hadn't been abusive. Not the worst he's had to live through.

His body is weirdly heavy after all the time that he's spent out of it. It's not as if he and Minato had to sleep, during their discussion in another eternity. But he's been tired enough to remember the signs. His muscles are aching, his eyes feel dry and heavy, so he flops onto his bed with a sigh and lets himself sleep for the first time since he died.

He'll plan to save the world… tomorrow.

Chapter Text

The morning wakes to someone insistently holding down the buzzer, and Akechi takes a moment to glance at the bedside clock. Ten-thirty in the morning.

Ugh, after so long being dead, he'd half-forgotten what it felt like to wake up. He's never been a morning person – instead always preferring to work late nights instead of early morning. It didn't help, Akechi thinks with a grimace, that yesterday's clothes are sticking to his skin with an unpleasant grimy feeling, and his mouth smelt like something died in it.

He's entirely too tired to deal with this mess, but he gets up anyway and shuffles to the door. It's a little refreshing to not care about his appearance, now that he's not the Second Coming of the Detective Prince yet.

"What is it?"

"Have you packed your bags?" Comes a booming voice, and Akechi manages to blink through his blurred eyes to see the wide, muscled shoulders of one of Shido's goons, a walking stereotype of a bodyguard in a black suit, sunglasses and a bald head nearly touching the doorframe.

"Ah yes, give me a moment, I'll be back shortly," Akechi replies on instinct before slamming the door shut.

Well, as many flaws as Shido had, he couldn't say that one was them was inefficiency.

Scrubbing his face with a tired hand, Akechi lets himself have a small moment of self-pity before decisively going back to the kitchen for a few spare plastic bags. There wasn't much he owned. Shoving a few sets of clothing in one of the bags and his school stuff in another, Akechi's ready to go in seconds.

"Shogaku dorms are off campus," the goon marches him forward the moment he steps out of the apartment, snappily holding the two plastic bags for him and waving him into a waiting car, before sliding in behind him. "Shido-san wishes to inform you that all of your paperwork has been passed, and you will be staying in the dorms as an emancipated minor. This is your card for your stipend." The man passes him an envelope, which Akechi slides into a pocket. "Shido-san also wishes to inform you the first experiment will be next Sunday, at 7 PM, at the same place as before. Do not be late."

Akechi nods and lets the rest of the car-ride pass in silence. The morning traffic is kind, at least. It doesn't take them long to get there.

The dorms are in a small street out of the way of the main road, and a few bicyclists on the side of the road swerve out of the way for the car – now strangely unwieldy – to lumber on through. There are a few trees in the courtyard, with flower beds lining the covered walkway that leads to the glass doors of the dorm, but Shido's man hurries Akechi forward with a stern face when he wants to linger a little to observe it all closer.

The automatic doors are unlocked, and they whoosh open in a wash of cool air to reveal a friendly-looking foyer, lined with small coffee tables and colourful chairs obviously meant to be a small social or study area.

There's a small office with an open glass wall to the side, and the old woman sitting inside drinking a cup of warm tea notices their entry immediately.

"Hello!" She greets, high and a little reedy as she moves as quickly as she can towards them, out of the office and stopping in front of them to give a small conservative bow in greeting. Akechi quickly bows back, although Shido's goon just stands there, an eternal glower on his face.

"Hello, I'm Goro Akechi. It's very nice to meet you…?"

The old woman laughs with her whole body, smile lines carved deep in her face as a testament to a satisfied life. It's impossible not to feel a little warmed by the smile she shoots them, and Akechi let his own smile warm a few more degrees in response.

"I'm Ise Saito, the landlord. It's very nice to meet such a nice young man as you, Akechi-kun," she smiles before it cools a little as she looks at the bodyguard behind him. "I've heard about your circumstances; you don't need to worry about a single thing while you're here."

That gives him a pause, before the smile on his face stretches a little farther.

"Thank you, Saito-san."

His politeness obviously makes her happy, her eyes folding into crescents as she leads them both towards her office.

"Your arrival was quite abrupt, but thankfully a group of kids from Kosei recently moved out because of internships in other prefectures," Saito's chatter is friendly as she pushes open her office.

Akechi automatically builds a profile from a glimpse of a private space – there are childish doodles that are proudly displayed on the walls, the art styles implying at least three grandchildren, at least one older than twelve. There is a photo frame that features Saito alongside her husband, with two beaming women with babies in their arms. The place is clean, and there's half-finished knitting that she had obviously put down to greet them.

A normal, rather warm, family-oriented person. Community-oriented too, since Akechi spots a half-hidden basket of knitted toys under her desk that holds the tell-tale sticker of a nearby children's hospital on the side.

She heads to a rack of keys hung on the wall, giving Akechi a look over her shoulder.

"There are three single rooms available right now, one on the second floor, and two on the third, but if you want a larger room there's still a boy up on the fifth floor that doesn't have a roommate—"

"He'll have a single room," interrupts the bodyguard as he crosses his arms. Saito gives him an unimpressed glance before looking at Akechi with her smile.

"Well, dear?"

"The single room on the second floor sounds great, Saito-san."

"Alright, the second-floor room it is," she smiles, snatching a key from the rack and waving the two over.

Akechi follows, but the man behind him taps him on the shoulder and gives him back the two plastic bags.

"I must leave. Do not forget to arrive next week."

He leaves without waiting for an answer, hand already on his ear and obviously onto his next job. Akechi is left with two plastic bags in his hands and Saito, who has paused on the stairs in the foyer, watching with a frown and pursed lips.

When he joins her, she gives him a pat on the arm and leads him upwards.

"The second floor is the only one which is reached by a staircase," Saito explains, leading him upwards and going down the resultant hallway illuminated by fluorescents. "Number 205. If you have any issues with plumbing or replacements, just come down and tell me. I'm here from nine to five from Mondays to Saturdays. I don't mind a chat either," she smiles as she hands him the key. "The door is locked by 5 PM. Use the tag on the key to beep yourself in if you're later than that, okay?"

"No problems, Saito-san," Akechi replies calmly. "I'm sure I'll settle down smoothly."

After a few more pleasantries, the old lady slowly goes back down the stairs and Akechi heads inside.

A small shoe area with a few cupboards and bag-hooks, a toilet-shower combo to his left in the small hallway before opening to a bright room with a bed and a desk and a stretch of floor between the two. A window looking out into the neighbourhood shines directly into his eyes as he closes the door behind him, and Akechi shucks off his shoes and chucks his two bags onto the floor. Then he flops a little undignified onto the hardwood and breathes for the first time.

The floor is cool under his back, and he finds himself staring at the air-conditioning vents. They are a little old, but white and clean.

This time, Shido couldn't have bugged the place. The very fact Saito had offered him a choice of rooms told him that.

The room is pleasant too. He lets his eyes wander the space - some spots where the paint is a little darker because the previous tenant stuck some photos up, by the size of the shadow, and the peachy tone of the wall lights up the whole room in a near golden hue. Although his past apartment had been bigger and designed in professional colours befitting how close the apartment was to the business blocks, the loss of professionalism for this peach-pink is surprisingly okay, even though he knew if he was actually fifteen, he'd want something more adult.

At least, there are no memories to make anything about this new room bitter.

The faint smell of perfume tells him a girl was the previous tenant, a hint of jasmine that lingers in the air that'll fade away soon enough.

Akechi is tempted to doze off, but he forces himself up to take a shower and brush his teeth, putting on a casual combo of a hoodie he doesn't remember owning along with a pair of jeans. He shoves the rest of his belongings where they belong before heading out.

In the mirror on the back of the door, Akechi looks like the dishevelled teen he had always disdained to never be, and he couldn't help but keep a laugh inside, toeing shoes on.

Let's familiarise himself with the Tokyo of the past again.

His Metanav app beeps in all the familiar places as he walks the familiar streets of Shibuya, the Sunday afternoon filling the streets with all sorts of laughing teens and families heading to who knows where. Restaurants and cafes are filled to the brim with people resting from the heat during lunchtime, and Akechi finds himself weaving through the crowds without much destination in mind.

Last time, he had always been willingly on call. There are no breaks, he realised with Minato's gentle concern, when you cling onto something as desperately as he did. When desperation hits a certain point, a person can even become eager to do anything they can to maintain the status quo. Last time, on weekends where he was allowed some time off, he usually cruised through Tokyo's most famous spots to keep up with the trends, making meticulous notes in his notebook so that he had a conversational topic on hand for anyone he encountered. Shido also approved when he could entertain any adult associates appropriately, and he'd burned with vicious pride when he exceeded expectations there, at least.

Those habits weren't helpful now, of course. Akechi didn't even have a food blog to post on.

The workaholic in him feels a little sketchy just wandering around with no purpose, a nagging sense that he could be using his time better, but when his stomach grumbles he finds that he's already wandered to…

Maybe it was inevitable, he thinks with a humourless laugh.

The small bell jingles when he enters Café LeBlanc.

Nothing's changed.

Except the lack of Sayuri on the wall, the smell of curry and coffee, the seats, even Sojiro Sakura at the counter cleaning glasses – it's all the same.

A deep "Welcome," is his only gruff greeting, and Akechi folds himself into a seat after ordering a plate of LeBlanc's special curry. He's the only customer inside right now, the only other sounds coming from the fans spinning slowly on the ceiling and the TV deeper inside.

If he closes his eyes, its Akira at the counter absent-mindedly stirring the pot of curry and ladling it out onto a plate, putting it down in front of him with a smile with that little mischievous edge generally reserved for the Phantom Thieves. His curly hair sometimes curled even more when exposed to steam, glasses a little fogged up. A memory, of a moment of tentative peace. Akira hadn't asked any questions, letting slip inane details about Morgana, school, exams now and again through the clink of washing glasses. Footsteps round the bar towards him, Akira carefully manoeuvring because he always poured too much curry onto Akechi's plate when he ordered, as always.

"Your curry," came the low tone of Sojiro.

Akechi opens his eyes and smiles. "Thank you," he replies, and digs in.

It's peaceful here, and LeBlanc is close enough to his dorm this time that perhaps he can come more often. Akechi savours the moment, before heading to the counter and paying the bill. He exits the cool interior of the café to balmy air again, Tokyo not having cooled an iota even though the sky is starting to get shot through with pink.

Hmm, he muses.

He's relaxed enough, and he's gotten used to his 15-year-old body.

Time to get to business.

First, he goes to a nearby bank and pulls out his whole weekly allowance in cash.

He knows more than anyone, as a former detective, that your credit history can teach you way more than you'd expect.

If it's available, it's obvious with a glance what a person is like merely by their purchases. A modest person would mostly have their purchases in food and basic utilities. People more flamboyant may visit specialty stores and brands, and it shows how much they care about trends by how frequently they go to the store. What they buy are clear hints to what influences them in their daily lives as well. If they frequently overdraw their credit card or make purchases that are greater than their financial means, it often means irresponsibility, or some other major event in life that they might need a distraction from.

What types of foods did they eat? Where did they go to, during the day? Writing up a schedule of habits and quirks can be easy through looking at spending habits over a few months.

Too many things can be read.

Shido's every provision in that contract had been a trap. Akechi's entire financial status right now is dependent on him and the only money he has available comes from the card… A card that ultimately belongs to Shido, who has full unrestricted access to analyse every single purchase he'll ever make.

When he was actually fifteen, he had fallen into this trap easily.

Well, Akechi thought absentmindedly while queuing for the ATM, eyes on a bird that landed on a lamp-post nearby. Not this time.

The wad of cash is quickly put into a newly bought wallet, and he bothers to walk a few streets to his favourite clothing store. The clerk is obviously confused at a scruffy teenager coming into a store dedicated to the upper-middle-class, but a mixture of well-placed smiles, compliments and lies brings her to Akechi's side recommending outfits in no time.

"Your father wants you to buy something suitable for a sort of business-casual interview, right?"

The clerk hums, bright lipstick stark against her pale face. A quick assessment shows her nails are carefully manicured, and her hair is kept professionally in a bun, all colours carefully matched with her glasses. Personal care is obviously something important to her, paired with a good business ethic. Any recommendations of style will be well thought out.

"Yes," Akechi says bashfully. "Well, as you can see," he waves vaguely to his hoodie and jeans, "I'm not really used to stuff like that, but my dad had to go on a business trip, so I have to prepare by myself… Don't worry, I can pay!" He adds the last bit in a fluster, and the lady gives him a sympathetic look.

"Honey, don't worry, you're in safe hands," she says. "Hmm, you should be around this size…"

The next twenty minutes have them bustling around colour choices – the shop clerk matches Akechi's expectations, choosing the more earthy tones that his professional stylists had back when he had to do TV appearances. They ultimately end up with Akechi wearing a comfortable shirt and pants combo, with a well-cut jacket to complement the look. The style is a bit young but acceptable, and Akechi happily hands over the cash needed for the outfit. His old clothes are placed in a plastic bag.

"If I'm going to recommend something hun," the clerk smiles, "I'd get a haircut too if I were you. There's a really good place with pretty cheap prices around the corner."

"Thank you very much," he smiles shyly, fidgeting with his collar. "I'll do as you say."

"Good luck on your interview!" She calls, but he's already walked out the door.

On the street, he lets himself savour the familiar feeling of a good jacket despite the heat – the slight stiffness aside, it's familiar and comforting. It's with confidence that he steps into the hairdresser's, his smile bright even as the overpowering chemical smell of hair spray and shampoo floods his nose.

"Hello, I was wondering if there were any availabilities for an impromptu haircut…?"

"Oh, come in, come in!" The hairdresser drops her phone onto her counter and nearly bounds her way to Akechi. "It's been a quiet afternoon today! What are you looking for?"

"It's for an interview, and I haven't kept up with my hair for a while," Akechi fakes a grimace, and the hairdresser bobs her head.

"I see, I see. Well," she squints as she quickly seats him in front of a mirror. "You have beautiful hair, and bone structure to match. I'll see what I can do."

What comes out is a little shorter than he imagined for himself – not as short as Akira's hair, but definitely not brushing the shoulders as it had before – but Akechi figures it'll grow.

"Thanks," he says as he gives the required payment. "I feel more confident for my interview already!"

"Go get them, tiger!" The hairdresser shoots him a double thumbs-up, and Akechi only smiles again and walks away, letting the smile slip into something more unassuming as he wades through the late afternoon crowd.

He adjusts the collar of his coat and brushes his new clothing down when he reaches the Police Headquarters.

Now his true goal.

"I heard there was a new internship offer available for people still in school?"

When the receptionist at the counter looks at Akechi's impeccable dressing and polite smile, she softens a little, just as he knew she would. Maika-san always had a soft spot for kids and young people, especially well-behaved ones, and she was only going to leave her job a few months before he dies.

"Yes, there's a new program for the general police program. The availability is up online, as well as all the requirements for it." Maika grunts a little as she bends down to get some paperwork that she offers to him. "But if you want more information, here's a list of available opportunities we have for students and graduates."

Akechi takes the list with a smile, and noting no-one behind him, keeps standing there are he scans the list.

He's not here to make connections with the general police. There should be an opportunity posted around now, in June 2014… But it isn't there.

Akechi smooths over his frown, looking up with a slightly bewildered smile.

"Um, may I ask, are there any opportunities with the Investigations Department? I've always admired detectives, you see, and so…"

"Hmm," Maika takes back the page and scans it herself. "Well… I suppose it can't hurt to tell you. I've heard from the grapevine that there might be a new internship for the Investigation's Department that might start soon, but you might have to wait and see."

"Oh, I see," Akechi's reply is slightly disappointed, and Maika gives a sympathetic noise.

"It should be posted soon on the website. Here, I'll write it down for you!"

She quickly scribbles out a link and hands it over to him, and Akechi takes it with two hands.

"Thank you very much!" He exclaims, exchanging a few more pleasantries before leaving the centre.

It's verging on darkness as he steps back into Tokyo's commute, still as crowded as ever as families start leaving and their younger counterparts take to the streets. A nearby convenience store has a few onigiri that he buys for dinner, and he absentmindedly eats them as he heads back to the dorm.

Hmm, checking the website might be a little hard since he doesn't have a computer. How much does a laptop cost again?

The next day he decides the computers in the school library suffice for now, and Shogaku's facilities do not disappoint.

He lets the days pass as he waits. Most of the students here are well-mannered and stick to their own social circles. At the start of the year, Akechi made sure to mingle with the absolute minimum of benign nicety that didn't get him far into their circles but friendly enough. It leaves him time to think and plan as he listens with half-an-ear in class to make sure he knew the material.

It's Wednesday when he sees any change on the website Maika gave him.

An offer at the prosecutor's office, standard application procedures apply, CV, two-page address, etc. etc.

He's pre-written everything and scanned it onto a USB, and it's a moment's job to submit it all.

Last time, being a Detective Prince had been only logical.

There were three main reasons.

First, Shido's many contacts in the Prosecutor's Office made it easy to achieve. Secondly, Shido wanted to control the government response towards the increased buzz in the public about the mental shutdowns so nothing could link to how convenient some of those deaths were to Shido's cause and hurt his presidential bid. Third, Akechi needed to have more presence in the public to get deeper into Mementos anyway.

Having Akechi controlling the cases for the mental shutdowns and simultaneously gain fame as a young genius suited both their needs – Shido for convenience, and Akechi for his new addiction for approval.

And, even now, despite knowing how it all had ended…

In the end, Akechi had liked being a detective.

("It's a case of parental abuse," Akechi once let slip to Akira, when they 'accidentally' bumped into one another in Shinjuku. "Sorry if I'm a little tired today – we've settled the facts now, and I'm sure we have enough evidence, but the judge has always been partial to mothers and women, and we're not sure if she'll get indicted even if she did starve her son into prolonged hospitalisation…"

Akechi had winced inside, the conversation edging onto territory a little too genuine for his tastes, scolding himself for falling into Akira's rhythm so easily. There was an air of trustworthiness in Akira, a steadiness that no-one could stop being attracted to.

"The path of Justice never did run smooth," Akira replied after a short pause, before tilting his head slightly and peering at Akechi over his glasses. "You're the Detective Prince. I know you'll work it out. But more than that, believe in yourself, Akechi. You're—"

A car honked in front of them alongside a hearty splash of rainwater that threatened to reach their shoes, swallowing the rest of what Akira said. A hot flash of annoyance coursed through Akechi even as he simultaneously felt a frisson of pride from the confidence in Akira's tone. This time, he'd worked just as hard as Sae. His smile was genuine that time as he tore his gaze away from Akira's face and looked down.

"Well, I'm hardly the detective you think me to be… But thank you anyway, Akira."

Akira bumped his shoulders to his, and Akechi tried not to flinch back at the contact. There was a raindrop that had caught the ends of one of Akira's curls, he remembers, threatening to drip down onto his lazy curl of a smile. He'd wanted to, his hands had started moving… But Akira started talking, grey eyes looking forward as they neared another road.

"Tell me if you need help. You know we'll back you up.")

There are many things he wants to change in this second life of his, and one of them is the fact that Shido had kept his Detective Prince on such a short leash, banning him from doing any more cases by keeping him within the circles of corrupt police, and stopping him from knowing anyone who had the power to recommend him on talents he knew he had outside of Shido's influence. Sae and he had bonded because of this, being so noticeably suppressed by their superiors. As few real cases as he had seen, the ones that he had helped solve had filled him with a confidence that didn't flicker as hard as the applause that came from a live audience during a TV show.

And… although this may be presumptive of him, Akechi wants to be Akira's Justice again.

True rivals, this time.

It's a little romantic, isn't it? A detective and a hidden phantom thief, friends in real life, fighting for different ideals in another. In the end, they find that their justice is the same when the truth reveals the two to each other. Like Featherman R, like those shounen mangas who fought for their friends. Perhaps this time, he could be worthier rival.

The corner of Akechi's mouth ticked upwards involuntarily.

And by taking initiative, perhaps being a detective wouldn't be another favour given from Shido's all-encompassing hand.

The lunch bell rings then, and students all around him stand up to prepare to go back to class. He does the same, closing all the tabs and logging out, filing behind all these other students with his benign smile back on his face, mind already whirring forward to Sunday, now that his current goal has been fulfilled.

Shido's experiments with him and the Metaverse…

Akechi nods to a classmate who held open the door for him, settling back at his desk and pulling out his Mathematics textbook, humming in thought. Little flickers of ideas flit through his mind, some kept, some discarded, some allowed to roam a little further to develop even as the teacher enters, starting to lecture on geography. His pen taps absentmindedly on his notebook as he looks out the window over a sun-drenched Tokyo.

He needs a plan.

Chapter Text

Sunday rolls around quicker than he expects, homework not exactly hard but time-consuming, and during the week he had been busy making purchases here and there for his new room. Basic cutlery and plates for one, and when he looked at the price of a small rice cooker, he'd resigned himself to buying it the week after… after the laptop.

As generous as Shido's weekly stipend currently is, he's banned himself from drawing any more than the limit.

Every day for the past week he's checked his dorm room for any bugs Shido may have slipped in, but perhaps it's too much effort to rig a room that's not already pre-prepared. No matter his best efforts, Akechi can't find anything recording his activities.

He lets himself relax by Saturday, setting the small cactus that the old lady, Saito, gifted him when he came back from school on the windowsill. Something about buying it spontaneously for her grandkid before realising that a cactus wouldn't go well in the post, with which they had shared a little laughter before Akechi retired to his room holding the plant and Saito went back to her office.

It looks good against the bare room, a little splotch of spiky green in the gentle pink of the wallpaper, the light hitting that perfect slant that gave the air a touch of rose-gold. When he did his homework that day at his desk, tiny diamond dust motes floated in the still air, shifting only with his breath.

Nothing manages to ruin the rest of the day, as the quiet and warmth of the afternoon melds into a vibrant, violent streaked sunset that paints the clouds into a veritable watercolour kingdom. Akechi finishes his homework with time to spare, with which he treats himself with a short trip to LeBlanc, Sojiro's curry and the calm atmosphere a perfect complement to his pleasant evening.

He sleeps soundly that night, waking refreshed to tackle the impending problem.

Sunday meant Shido.

Currently, he still holds the advantage. He has done his best to not let Shido pry into his life, while he had two and a half years of knowledge on him.

Secondly, there's only two sources of information Shido can gain of the Metaverse.

One is him.

As the only known person to fully enter the Metaverse right now, as long as Shido trusts him, what Akechi says will be considered truth as it comes straight from the source.

The second source is Wakaba Ishikki's research.

Ishikki, one of his first murder-by-shadows.

She was… the third one? The fourth one?

If he remembers correctly, Ishikki's murder was two months into Shido's experiments. Today was June 1st, right at the beginning of summer.

The day had been a hot one, the Metaverse filled with burning Shadows as he crept through its dark hallways and ended up in front of Ishikki's. August heat had transferred into everyone's consciousness through moans and complaints of how the heat was making everything so much harder.

In contrast, Ishikki's Shadow had been calm – had stared at the end of his gun with a sort of resignation. She had only said two things.

"So, it's time."

And,

"I'm sorry… Futaba."

Akechi remembers he had been feeling the heat himself, and just shot the Shadow without much care. Ishikki had tried to put up a fight but was ultimately too weak against Robin Hood (Loki had appeared... later), dissipating into wisps sooner than he'd expected.

Murder is easy, especially if they were just a shadowy exaggerated mockery of their true selves with blazing yellow eyes. Shadows shed no blood, after all.

Now that he thinks about it, he never really did get to see Ishikki's notes on the Metaverse. Shido took them all away before he even had a chance to. In fact, all Akechi had been allowed to know was a once-off flash of regret in Shido's eyes when Akechi reported that Ishikki's mind had broken down.

"It's a shame. She was a true genius," was all Shido ever said before he was dismissed to get back to his own life.

To be honest, Akechi hadn't even really known who she was, her importance, and what she did until Futaba Sakura.

But now…

Akechi rests his chin onto his folded hands in thought, looking at his calendar.

She's still alive.

Furthermore, she and Sojiro Sakura are close friends.

He smiles, rising up to get dressed. In the mirror, he's satisfied to see an impeccably dressed teen – casual enough to not raise eyebrows, but well-kept to a point where adults would look at him favourably. It's enough for upkeeping Shido's expectations of him as a petty gold-digging, attention-seeking teen, but it's also enough for someone like Wakaba Ishikki, a mother of a kid similar in age.

Akechi wouldn't mind getting a genius as an ally.

The day passes quickly. After leaving his dorm, waving to Saito-san continuing her knitting in her office as he did so, he goes to a nearby library to check into his emails and see whether he's accepted to the investigation's internship yet.

No response.

Well, as he expected really, he thinks as he clicks out of the browser and takes a small walk around the fiction section, eyes lingering on a few new (old) volumes of Featherman R before leaving.

He spends the rest of the day casually, scouting the city to familiarise himself with Tokyo again. This time, he chooses Akiba, and the vibrant youth culture and various pop and niche culture stalls wash over him in a wave of chatter. There's a slight breeze that's wafting through the streets today, enough to make his hair ruffle, but warm enough to make people grimace.

At 7 PM sharp he walks into Shido's fancy apartment from last week. At the bell, a maid opens the door, face young and pretty, and Akechi tries not to feel disgusted that the girl's age is barely older than his own. She couldn't possibly have been more than twenty, and there's only one reason why Shido would want a young and pretty maid in his private apartment, after all.

Shido's indiscretions are wide and vast, Akechi thinks, dry. He should've gotten used to it by now.

"Shido-sama's in the study room," the girl says quietly as Akechi takes his shoes off and puts them to the side, handing him a pair of slippers. "It's the first room you see to the right past the living room."

"Thank you," Akechi smiles pleasantly at the girl, before padding his way past the living room where he'd negotiated before, the night-view still a stunning visage to the left, before he knocking on the door the maid had indicated.

"Come in," Shido's voice rumbles and Akechi takes his cue.

As expected, the large study is dimly lit, with one large desk with Shido seated… and no seat for him. He stands in front instead, comfortably putting his hands in his pockets where his mobile is, his screen unlocked with the MetaNav open.

"What have you been doing this week?" Shido opens, his eyes already taken in Akechi's change in clothes, his confident demeanour.

"School," Akechi provides. At Shido's near imperceptible frown for more information, he adds, "there was a Japanese History assignment. The dorm is comfortable."

"Are you sure you don't wish for your own apartment?" Shido asks, and Akechi gives a polite chuckle.

"I've already settled down where I am so please don't worry about me, Shido-san."

He looks up and tries to breathe normally at Shido's assessing gaze. In the past, Shido had always looked at Akechi with a marked disinterest, his gaze always a step past where Akechi always stood, distracted, no matter what Akechi did or tried to impress him with.

He doesn't really want to guess what he has done to make Shido look at him now with such intense focus.

"Are we going to begin experimentation now?" Akechi asks when the pause stretches a little too long, and Shido doesn't seem to acknowledge that he had gotten lost in thought.

"Show me how you enter the Metaverse," Shido says abruptly, his eyes glittering with a dark interest that Akechi politely ignores.

"Alright," Akechi shrugs, and the hand holding his phone in his pocket taps the MetaNav button alongside the motion. As if by magic, the world around them starts to warp, and Shido disappears from his vision.

The apartment is silent. The higher up you enter the Metaverse, the clearer it is. There are no shadows, no distortions. No birds or the sounds of the young maid in the kitchen.

He moves immediately. Crossing the room, he looks at the papers left on Shido's desk.

Mementos is the amalgamation of everyone's hearts – that's true. That's why the dark underground is a maze, where Shadows love to lurk as they're symbolically hidden from the greater world around them.

But up in a fancy high-rise, everyone's dreams of the rich are reflected here, keeping everything luxurious and immaculate. It's hard to get up here, usually. Many apartments are broken in the Metaverse, and elevator shafts and stairwells are often broken or out of reach, making the rich elite even further to grasp. Most importantly though, is that this is Shido's private space, and his own personal feelings and thoughts will be reflected the most. Akechi had been banking on that, as he starts rifling through all the documents.

Half of the papers on the desk are blank – deemed by Shido's cognition as unimportant.

The other half Akechi quickly takes a photo of each – even if there's only one sentence on the page, it's a sentence that Shido's paid attention to. He quickly reaches into the desk's drawers too, taking a picture of everything. Photos, file names, everything he can reach. He takes special care to take a picture of all three types of Shido's signature and saves all of it in the encrypted storage location on his phone

There's a vicious sort of satisfaction in doing this, and Akechi hums a little as he steps back and stands right back where he started.

Turning Shido's paranoia to his advantage…

Feels good.

Akechi checks the time (five minutes), and carefully wipes any satisfaction off his face. He jogs a little, making himself sweat. He has always been the type to flush easily… and there you go.

He exits the Metaverse, and Shido warps back into his chair, one of his fingers tapping the chair in impatience.

"Sorry," Akechi says apologetically, a little out of breath, a smile that's fishing for sympathy on his face. "Going to the Metaverse takes a little out of me. I'm sure it'll get better with time."

Just like last time, Shido asks him a series of questions.

How do you get into the Metaverse? I just focus… and suddenly the world is different. What do you see? Generally, there are the Shadows of other people when I entered the Metaverse from the ground. It's a distorted version of reality, in summary. Shadows? Everyone has something they have to hide, and they seem to manifest in that other reality.

It's a back and forth that Akechi has prepared for, and nothing really blindsides him. The first few sessions are tame after all, as Shido is still reaping information from him and Wakaba Ishikki.

After an hour of going in and out of the Metaverse a few more times and answering more questions, Shido hums.

"That's enough for today. Good job," Shido adds, and Akechi reacts like he knows how his younger self would to the praise, quickly hiding a delighted smile under his normal façade.

"Anytime, Shido-san. Next week?"

"Actually, use this." Akechi strides forward to pick up the P.A.D. that Shido gives him, and it's a familiar weight in his hand. "I'll contact you through this – we'll be switching locations next week."

"Okay, Shido-san," Akechi smiles as he pockets the new phone. "I will see you next week."

With an impatient grunt, Shido has already looked back down at his papers and Akechi knows to leave as silently as he can. Outside, the smell of steamed fish and vegetables hits his nose as he beelines straight for the door before there's a last authoritative command from behind.

"Wait. Akechi."

Akechi doesn't as much freeze as he gently lets out a breath and pivots on his heel. Shido's at the doorway, eyeing the maid cooking in the kitchen, before his attention rests back on him.

"I heard you applied for an internship at the police Investigation's department."

"Yes, I have some free time as my studies at Shogaku are less strenuous than expected. Thinking of my future, I wished to hold some internships related to law enforcement and such, as I always had an interest in those areas."

It's a good honour-student response, and Shido just replies with a scrutinising hmm.

"If you wish me to, I can help you get a higher position in a higher division, such as the Special Investigation's Department."

"No." Akechi replies on instinct. He has to swallow his surprise before he tacks on, "That's not necessary, thank you."

Shido had never offered anything in his past life past contracts. Akechi had always been the one manipulating, pushing, implying, and scheming to get to where he'd been in the past, with Shido handing out favours when he saw fit. Why was he offering this now?

Was he concerned about how his control measures had failed? Did he want to add more debt?

"This is just something casual to fill the time and my future resumé," Akechi continues, pleasant smile firmly on his face. "It won't affect my activities with you at all, Shido-san."

There's a moment where Shido is still, his eyes considering Akechi, before his face turns into a smirk.

"I see," Shido replies, and Akechi pushes back a spike of alarm that goes through his spine.

That tone.

That's the tone whenever Shido got what he wanted.

"Goodbye, Akechi," Shido says now, a touch smug and detached as he heads towards the maid in the kitchen who has already put down her utensils. She's batting her eyelashes, twirling one of her apron strings with a teasing finger, and Akechi forces himself to relax and reply with light 'good evening, Shido-san'.

As he walks away, his hands involuntarily find where the bullethole had once been in his chest.

It's alright, he has to tell himself. You have a lot of material to sift through to predict what Shido's planning, and you remember every single one of your hits. You know who is in his faction, and who will be seen as a threat. And even if Shido grows as strong as he does in your past life, the Phantom Thieves will bring him down. Just a bunch of renegade teens will bring him to his knees. You're fine.

His heart is beating.

Don't waste your life on Shido. Stick to your plan.

Akechi breathes in the smog of Tokyo streets, a bus drives down the street in a plume of black smoke. He lets himself sit in a small eating area in a convenience store, the unflattering fluorescent lights making every tired businessman around him look like tired ghosts, all eating within their own isolation. It's a shared misery that soothes Akechi when he stands up and chucks his rubbish in the bin, footsteps steadier now as he heads back to the dorm.

He wishes that Shido didn't affect him so much. Shido would hardly whip out a gun and kill him now, he was still a valuable resource.

But emotions, as always, are illogical.

The next afternoon after school finds him in LeBlanc, a cap over his hair as he finishes his curry. Over at the bar table is a bespectacled woman who is currently teasing a tired Sojiro Sakura, happily sharing cute stories of her daughter for the past fifteen minutes.

There's a moment where Sojiro grumpily tells Wakaba to watch the shop for a bit as he goes upstairs to get something, and that's when Akechi stands up, drawing his facemask back over his face and heads towards the door.

When he passes the woman, he pauses, as if checking his pockets.

"Wakaba Ishikki. This is about Shido. Meet me outside in five minutes. You may be in danger. Do not alert anyone."

Patting his pockets as if satisfied his phone and wallet are still there, he heads outside and crosses the road, pulling out his phone and fiddling with it like any other bored teen waiting for his friends. It's only been four minutes when LeBlanc's doors open again, and Wakaba Ishikki's laughter is suddenly loud on the street.

"Stop being such a sour puss, Sojiro! I'll come back later; I can't help it that I've forgotten my wallet~"

Contrary to her laughing off a few unsavoury mumbles from behind, Ishikki's eyes are sharp beneath her glasses. Akechi nods at her and starts down the street towards Shibuya Station in a bid for her to follow.

A few alleyways down, Akechi ducks into an old izakaya, where he knows there are partitioned stalls. Although there are dusty security cameras in the corners, Akechi also knows that the old couple had stopped servicing them years ago. There will be a brawl here in three months, and the old couple fail to provide footage, claiming they thought it was a waste of electricity.

It's knowledge that comes handy now.

There are already a bunch of hardy locals inside in the early evening, rowdy after work, and Akechi smiles sunnily at the old woman behind the counter under his mask.

"Me and my ma want a cubicle please!" He says happily, tone pitched young, and the old lady bobs her head.

"Alright, head on into the back," the old lady smiles just as Ishikki pushes through the flaps of the doorway behind him, following Akechi as he takes off his shoes and slides into a small cubicle. They both seat face to face with their knees nearly touching, and the small cloth barrier that sections their space off from the rest of the izakaya only hangs down to their knees. The loudness of the neighbouring group outside is sufficient though, and Akechi starts by taking off his cap and face mask.

"Kid, don't say I'm your mother ever again," is Ishikki's first demand. "Second, why the fuck is Shido sending me a kid?"

Akechi faces her with one of his television smiles, folding his hands in his lap.

"Ishikki-san, may I interest you with a proposal?"

Chapter Text

Wakaba Ishikki is not a small woman – she is surprisingly tall, and her blunt bob frames a surprisingly pretty face. She's young to be a mother of a thirteen-year-old, and she's kept herself well despite obviously not caring much for it. She's currently frowning hard though, at the select photos that he had chosen to print from yesterday, containing information that he thought would help his case against Shido.

"I assume Shido asked you for some of your hypothesis and research questions a few days ago," Akechi is saying now, leaning over the juice he had ordered when the waiter came. "You were doomed the moment you did so, as you will be the only one who can both suspect and somewhat prove that Shido's future crimes in the Metaverse are related to him."

Wakaba finishes scanning his photos quickly, and she brings a hand to massage the bridge of her nose.

"Kid," Wakaba says, "you come here claiming that one of my most major sponsors is planning to kill me, but all I see in these photos are his training plans for you. It's just like," she squints, "have X enter the Metaverse – how many times? Side effects?"

Akechi interrupts, pointing at the end of the page. "And when you look at the bottom, he's highlighted your hypothesis that actions in the Meta-cognitive world may have a feedback loop to reality. There's even a list of actions he wants me to take against the Shadows of people. Conversation, interrogation, violence… It's all there." Akechi straightens his back, keeping his smile pleasant. "No matter how much you appreciate Shido, Ishikki-san, you must realise that he's not the most upright of politicians."

A loud chorus of shouts break their conversation, as some of the guys outside chant for one of their friends to 'Drink! Drink! Drink! Drink!' Loud cheers follow as someone obviously does so, and Wakaba grimaces at the noise.

"He's mentioned he's gunning for election before," Wakaba allows after their ears stop ringing, and Akechi inclines his head.

"And the only reason he's interested in me is because of the potentials the Metaverse holds for him and his election."

Potentials.

Like information, interrogation, and 'violence' in a parallel world without justice except their own.

It's obvious what Akechi's implying.

The only few people who know the full details of Shido and Akechi's arrangement are the two of them – but Wakaba is a third party supplying her research to Shido because of his sponsorship. In the future, Wakaba will see her hypothesis come to life as various members of Shido's political opponents start having breakdowns from 'stress', put two and two together, and realise that she's become an accomplice for serial murders.

Then she'll realise the full extent of why Shido had invested so much into her… and how her worth was now over. She would realise that she'll be next, furiously research the mental breakdowns in an attempt to overthrow Shido first, tell the threat to her life to Sojiro Sakura and ultimately throw herself into traffic and die without anyone knowing it was murder.

Looking at it subjectively, it's quite a tragic fate. Anyone would want to avoid this, surely.

But this Wakaba shakes her head, brows twisted in doubt, a scientist through and through.

"Look, you need more evidence than this," she says and Akechi nods. Of course. The more criminal experimentation hasn't even started yet, and his dramatic invitation has already served its cause by allowing him to speak to Wakaba privately. At least he's learnt a few things - Wakaba hadn't trusted Shido fully even when she was safe, she is logical, independent, and intelligent. Even if she doesn't believe Akechi now, he's sure that she's the sort to take caution once the seed of an idea has been planted. It is more than enough for a first meeting, but Akechi has always wanted more. This isn't the alliance he wants, not yet.

"I expected this," he admits, chugging his juice down in one go and putting his mask and cap back on. "I don't expect you to believe me right away, but if you can continue to humour me, please follow me again."

Akechi pays the bill at the counter and leaves. The night is dark now, and the dingy street that the izakaya is in is only lit by the yellow squares of light from various small stalls and shops. Enough people are milling and chattering about that Akechi frowns, before heading into a narrow alleyway blocked by a bin. He moves it to the side while Wakaba follows behind in confusion, her high heels clacking against the ground.

"This is disgusting," Wakaba grimaces, edging carefully around the bin. "I hope you're not lying to me or trying to kidnap me or anything. I've taken self-defence classes before, you know."

Her arms are completely devoid of muscle definition.

"Ah," Akechi smiles. "I'll be thankful if you don't use those on me, Ishikki-san. You look like you throw a mean punch."

Wakaba snorts at that. "Yeah, stop with the insincerity, kid. Just do what you need to do. I'm quite a busy woman, you know?"

"Your hand please," Akechi nods in acquiescence, his other hand already with the MetaNav out and Mementos tapped into the box.

His heartbeat thuds loudly. Nervousness, perhaps.

He feels confident about entering the Metaverse before Shido because even in his previous life, Shido had never been one of the people who was ever sucked in when Akechi engaged the MetaNav app. Akechi, similarly, had only ever started up the MetaNav app when he was alone because of Shido's warnings of what he would do if someone found out his Metaverse abilities in his previous life.

Judging by the stories the Phantom Thieves had told him though, all you need sometimes is to loiter around the same area and the MetaNav will automatically suck you in. Ann Takamaki and Yusuke Kitagawa had both been more than forthcoming when he asked in his last life.

He's banking on that. He's gambling on this.

When Wakaba's hands touch his, he taps the app and the world warps around him.

And Wakaba Ishikki does not disappear.

Three blinks later, Wakaba has already torn her hand from his, stumbling back down the alleyway the way they came. It's utter silence – the lights are gone, the world dimmed into dark and gloomy shadow, and red light edges the buildings into looming spectres. Izakayas, street stalls, the smell of frying gyoza and ramen have all disappeared. The night has no stars, and somehow even the air is more sinister.

"What the fuck?" Wakaba yells, staring.

Akechi emerges from the alleyway behind her, his smile unchanged. Stepping around the bin and glancing around the familiar scene, he can't help but sketch a small bow when Wakaba wheels on him.

"Welcome to the Metaverse, Ishikki-san."

There are no Shadows on the surface, but there are the vague bleeding lumps of darkness, crumbling buildings and rubble that they pass that obviously make Wakaba apprehensive, so Akechi goes on his own casual way towards the closest Safe Room he remembers, hands in his pockets and humming a little. Even though no Shadows live on the surface, safe areas have fewer distortions.

"Fuck, I stubbed my toe again!" Wakaba curses behind him, before glaring at the piece of rubble that she didn't see in the dark and limping quickly behind Akechi. "If I knew this was what I was going to be doing, I wouldn't have dressed up," she mumbles darkly, and Akechi nods politely.

"Well, we've nearly arrived at the Safe Room, where cognitive distortions will be a little less than usual. We can talk there. I promise it'll be more comfortable, Ishikki-san."

Wakaba squints at him and his blasé tone, before swallowing what she was going to say and following behind him with a bit more force than necessary. Akechi shrugs, before continuing to pick his way through the abandoned city, feeling a little nostalgic that he was tramping through the surface of Mementos again in a world without the Phantom Thieves. This place, is once again, his and his alone.

Stepping around a pile of brick, Akechi cast his mind back.

What had he been doing in his last life at the point in time?

…Oh yes, he was mooning over his new apartment and gleefully outfitting it with everything he'd always wanted to have. He'd also been looking forward to Shido's next experiment with excitement to prove himself, planning to get into his good graces so his betrayal would hurt, just like how he'd hurt his mother. Shido, he'd schemed, would regret ever abandoning him as a son.

Wow, he chuckles a little in derision. Knowing Shido as he does now, remembering those childish thoughts is actually a little painful. Morgana was right. He really had acted like a child throwing a tantrum.

Fifteen, and so stupid.

"What are you laughing about now, creepy boy?" Wakaba asks suspiciously behind him, and Akechi gives her a half shrug.

"I'm mourning my lost childhood innocence, Ishikki-san," Akechi replies, tone innocent.

"Pfft," Wakaba snorts unattractively. "Tell another joke. You're still a baby."

"And anyway," Akechi continues, brushing over the topic. "I'm hurt by all this continued suspicion, Ishikki-san. I have been nothing but truthful to you, you know?"

Wakaba rolls her eyes. "Well, we've met for something like an hour and you still haven't told me your name yet, mysterious X-kun."

Oh, right, Akechi blinks. He really hadn't.

"Forgive my rudeness, Ishikki-san," Akechi turns now, bowing politely. "My name is Goro Akechi. It's nice to meet you, despite the circumstances."

"Akechi," Wakaba immediately waives off the suffix, "tell me we're reaching that room of yours soon because I need to pick up my daughter in half an hour."

"In fact, we're right here."

Akechi pushes open the door to a veterinarian clinic, still unlocked because it's still opening hours, and there are flickers of colour here, where it had only been a mix of black and crimson on the outside. It's less oppressive too as a Safe Room, and Wakaba visibly loses a layer of reserve when she steps in.

"Now that you've walked through the surface of the Metaverse, do you believe my story a little more now?" Akechi broaches the topic first. "Even if you don't believe that Shido wishes to kill you, I'm at least telling you the truth on this, at least."

"I'll think about believing you. You'll have to give me time on your proposal though," Ishikki replies, quickly settling down on a nearby chair and taking off her heels.

"Why?" Akechi asks, leaning against a table himself. "My proposal is quite simple – I feed you information about Shido, you research a few things for me."

"You obviously have a personal motive in all of this, for one." Wakaba narrows her eyes at him while massaging her sore feet. "Though I know Shido can be a bastard sometimes, for certain reasons, I just don't think he'll kill me. Threaten, or blackmail maybe, but to jump straight to assassination…" Wakaba makes a face.

Akechi sighs.

He'd been hoping he wouldn't need to do this, but there's a sure-fire way of catching a scientist's attention.

"What if I change the deal, Ishikki-san?" Akechi leans forward, capturing Wakaba's attention again. "Your passion and expertise in cognitive-psience is still mainly theoretical, supported by a combination of clever psychological experimentation and neurochemical reactions. However," Akechi waves his hand around, "with me here you can do experiments live. A whole new way of exploring your field. You can start getting data from the source, travel a whole parallel dimension of the metaphysical in body. Isn't that exciting?"

"So I propose this: Once every week, I'll protect you while you collect data and do experimentation. All you have to do is agree to research something for me, and never tell Shido we're in contact."

Wakaba's eyes shine.

"Now we're talking," she laughs before pausing. "Wait, protect me from what? The streets were pretty empty."

Luckily, there's an entrance to a subway station nearby, and they both head downwards. The moment they hit the station level, Akechi's outfit changes into the familiar trappings of Robin Hood.

"What's that? What did you just do to change your clothes?" Wakaba asks with enthusiasm, and Akechi deflects.

"I'll tell you if you agree to my proposal," he replies, in which Wakaba looks put-out.

It's just the first level, and Akechi shushes Wakaba when they see the first roaming Shadow. Her eyes widen, and Akechi is the one who pulls them both back onto the surface, to safety.

"They attack on sight," Akechi explains, and he's honestly prepared to delve into more depth when Wakaba suddenly slaps her hand in his and shakes it strongly.

"Deal, Akechi. Even if I don't believe in Shido's assassinating me or whatnot, I'd be an idiot to miss out on a research opportunity like this."

Wakaba's eyes are shining with a pure passion for knowledge. It takes Akechi back a little, to know first-hand how one of his victims had been such an… honest lady. What had Shido said, when he ordered him to kill her? 'Potential risk' because she had 'blackmail material' on her?

Facing Wakaba Ishikki now, Akechi knew she would never have compromised her own research this way.

The thought is uncomfortable, so Akechi pushes it away.

"Even if you don't believe me, Ishikki-san, I have to request that we communicate in a way that is undetected by Shido," Akechi insists, and Wakaba shrugs.

"That's no problem, I'll send you a foolproof way of communicating later. I don't want to scare you away just because we disagree on my choice of sponsors, Research Assistant-kun! Where do you live?" Wakaba asks, and Akechi rattles off the address of his dorm.

Wakaba nods and her smile grows large.

"It's a deal! Crap, if only I didn't have to pick up Futaba from cram school and have a casual dinner date with Sojiro I could've started immediately…"

Akechi was going to nod along with her, but he freezes instead because the rest of her sentence fades away alongside time. He's in that space between breaths again.

"Hey, Akechi! Snap out of it, I'm nearly going to be late!"

Wakaba's snapping her fingers in front of his eyes as Akechi blinks back into awareness.

"My apologies. To leave, check your phone, Ishikki-san."

Akechi leads her through the exiting process, warns her not to enter the Metaverse by herself, before watching her practically sprint down the street towards, what he assumes, is Futaba Ishikki's cram school.

He has a deal in place though, and another Arcana for all that's worth, and Akechi lets himself feel a modicum of satisfaction at a successful negotiation.

At the end of all this, settling down back in his pink dorm room to do homework is practically relaxing, and he spends the rest of the night going through math worksheets with the ease of treating it as a meditative mental exercise.

School is banally normal in comparison to the events of yesterday, and when he checks his emails during lunch, he still hasn't received a reply from his internship application.

So he lets himself live the life of a normal teenager, for once.

He answers all the right answers during class, submits his homework, and receives last week's homework back with full marks. The teacher's full of praises, and his classmates are suitably impressed. It's the perfect day that he's always wished for – all these rich and privileged boys and girls not knowing that one of the bastards they always looked down upon was beating them all. He'd loved that feeling before, of being envied and admired, suppressed snickers when they expressed how much they wanted to be like him.

However, the perfect school days he's planned for himself now feel uncomfortably stifling, for some reason.

Now it just feels boring.

Chatter, laughter, gossip, repeat.

Akechi watches them all from his seat by the window, head rested on his hand as he sees people clump together when the teacher gives them a little free time to study.

These people were worth nothing, really. Just empty sacks of meat to how important they were to his life. They knew nothing about what he really did in his daily life, loved him when he was on television, spurned him when he was unpopular. Utterly useless to him, as they were apathetic to anything that didn't benefit themselves somehow. Really, he'd prefer one Minato, to a whole school full of these sorts of strangers…

The world is more beautiful than you think.

Akechi pauses in the middle of brushing off the class president. He changes his neutral face to a smile, giving her a quiet 'thank you' instead. The class president seems to brighten up and gives him a nod in reply, and her smile lingers even as she continues giving out homework papers. Akechi allows himself to do the same, his smile bland as he looks down at his own paper and thinks:

Nothing.

He feels nothing.

His own smile is pasted on – there is no warmth, no fledgling happiness at sharing a positive moment with another human being. All he feels is just a vain, empty disappointment. The world is, as ever, detached from his own problems. It's a necessity that made him learn how to read people so well, and when he glances around the sunny classroom filled with smiling faces, he sees how many just wanted their superficial relationships to validate themselves and nothing more. At the first whiff of hardship, they'd run.

Akechi couldn't help the scoff that reached his lips. Friendships. It had always been somewhat of a joke to him. A game.

Akira tried to reach you, a sliver of his heart said. And Minato accepted you for everything that you are.

It’s easy to override that little shred of warmth. What are two people, really, in the thousands in his life? There’s a much larger part of him that lives in another moment, a moment where he is too small compared to all the other people milling around, black shadows around his mother’s casket.

There weren't many people there at her funeral, bare-bones as it was, but there was one aged woman who stayed from the beginning to the end, who smoked heavily even indoors. She puffed away at her cigarette, staring at the photo of his mother when she was still young, before her pregnancy with him had ruined her life.

"No tears, kid?" The smoking woman had asked. Akechi, in a small black suit sourced somewhere by social workers, stared blankly at her.

She chuckled.

"An iced heart even at your age. That's good, it'll protect you. The world ain't that great of a place."

The woman finished the cigarette, stepping on the stub with her heel and immediately pulled another one from her coat pocket. She lit it up without fanfare and dragged in deep – as if that one second without a cigarette in her mouth was a moment of torture.

"What are you thinking, brat?"

Akechi stared forward. His mother's casket. Her face had been bloated with blood since she hanged herself. He saw because he was the one who found her. But somehow, they had made her face look normal again, young and fresh and elegant. Strange, because she had never been elegant in life. She'd preferred the cute aesthetic – it had been her selling point to her customers, that she was small-boned and pretty and liked dressing up in ribbons and lace and ruffles. Liked feeling like the girl she could never be again.

Akechi finally opened his mouth to reply to the woman's question.

"It's unfair."

The woman snorted, smoke coming out of her nostrils.

"Life's unfair, kid."

Akechi frowned, as ferociously as an eight-year-old could.

"It's unfair."

"Not completely ice yet, are you? Well, keep that fire burning." A tired tone to her voice. Exhaustion. Akechi had seen this woman with his mother before, standing in contrast to his mother's fluffy aesthetic in dark leathers, both equally pretty on the street corner. "Keep it burning, as long as you can, or you'll grow numb. And numbness," the woman had said with a tinge of despair, eyes fixed on his mother's face, "is where it all ends. That's when you disappear."

He remembers this despite not fully understanding what she said when he was young, because that woman committed suicide that night, and she lived three doors down from Akechi and his mother's flat. Akechi was supposed to be picking up his things that morning with his social worker but were instead blocked by policemen for a few hours.

He doesn't want to disappear, so Akechi looks around the classroom and listens.

"My father wants to go to Hawaii for summer vacation," one of the girls next to him is saying. "I said I didn't want to, we've gone there every year since I turned twelve, but he insisted. Said it's a family tradition so I can't say no."

"Oh, that's such a shame, Rina! I wanted to invite you to visit our villa in Italy. It's so beautiful, look, I'll show you some pictures…"

"It's embarrassing, that's what," a boy is proclaiming in front of him. "When we bumped into Keito-sensei at the supermarket, my ma insisted on dragging me over to watch as she bowed and thanked her for taking care of me! Ugh, I wanted to die."

Another boy laughs loudly from his right. "Yeah, but my brother got a new car for his 16th birthday, but when it's my birthday dad just gives me permission to host a party wherever I want. I'm tempted to say somewhere like the Grand Ballroom at the Civic Tower just to see him panic, haha."

Shogaku's a school for the elite, a private school if you will, filled with the privileged who don't see it. It's not their fault they can be so happy they create their own unhappinesses. It's not his fault that he's in a world where unhappy people are so happy when they take from others. He knows. He knows. He has always known, sitting in the corner of his institution when he could still fit underneath the low table in the corner, watching fifteen kids try their hardest to vie for the attention of a caretaker who would go home in relief after their shift.

Even so, Akechi listens. He lets it build. Lets it burn.

And he exists.

Chapter Text

The next few days are spent jointly on either his homework or sifting through the photos he took from Shido on his newly bought laptop. He makes lists of names - he is surprised that Kunikazu Okumura is still yet to be approached, but has been observed for the past few months. There are many names he doesn't recognise as he slowly tries to decipher Shido's circle through the photos that are often disconnected or jumbled.

It's during this time that his mailbox has a letter inside that bears no sender and no return address. Opening it in his room, it's a single sheet of paper with a link on it, a username, with a messy scrawl of an explanation underneath saying 'this is a safe link for a messaging app that someone I trust built – put it in your phone or whatever'.

It's obviously Wakaba, and since Medjed had already started making minor news here and there around the globe, he supposes Futaba Ishikki built the app on her mother's request.

After he downloads it and transfers it to his personal phone, he immediately sends a message to the only other person he can contact.

[GA: Please ensure that whoever built this app cannot track my whereabouts. Or anyone, on that matter. Thank you.]

After a short pause, there's a reply.

[MadPscientist: don't worry she assures that even she can't hack the security on this thing, it was a group project turned spaghetti. and where's your teen spirit, your username is so boring]

[GA: Yes, it does seem to lack a bit of character compared to yours, doesn't it? I'll take it as a work in progress, ^^. On the other hand, please tell me when you wish to start experimentation as your schedule dictates, Pscientist-san.]

[MadPscientist: im not free for the next two weeks cos of a conference it sucks. im free 28 june tho. Can you make it, at night 6-ish? where the vet was]

[GA: Okay, I will make sure I'm free. I will meet you then.]

The app looks inconspicuous when he exits it and requires a thumbprint and a PIN to access when he tries to tap in. It's perfect for his needs, and again he re-evaluates Futaba Ishikki's obvious digital genius. Even at age thirteen, she and her small group of hacker friends have already started pranking governments around the globe.

The small piece of paper is easily folded and eaten, and after washing it down with half a glass of water, Akechi is ready for school again.

The rest of the week passes uneventfully – it's just school and the socialising required for it, checking his email for a reply from the internship, finishing his notes on Shido and contemplating on Metaverse theories.

It's an issue that he's resolved to gain a little headway in before delving back into Mementos.

In their long, peaceful chat in another universe, Minato had let a lot of things slip as he was telling his story. Even though he couldn't explain what the Other Side was very clearly, he did mention that anything from the Metaverse that can affect the real world on the scale of Mementos has to have at least the momentum of a God.

He highly doubts Shido and his crew are Gods in disguise. If Shido is a God (Akechi suppresses a derisive snort at the thought), everyone would already know it. He wouldn't be scrabbling for power like he is, he'd be loudly blasting how everyone should start him worshipping already. If he framed the drama that swallowed past life through another lens, Shido and his circle of corrupt authorities were merely humans who found a way to exploit the Metaverse. It means that the creator of Mementos is an entirely unknown factor.

Minato's comments spark some old unanswered questions that had still been in mystery when he died.

Morgana's origin, for example, and where Mementos had ultimately come from. Who had sent the app to them in the first place? Why? If the app wasn't an automated system, then didn't that mean that whoever made Mementos was always watching them? Judging who to pull in, who to invite. Yusuke Kitagawa, Ann Takamaki, Futaba Sakura - all people pulled in by accident, who awakened such potential in their Personas, perfectly filling each other's weaknesses.

'Igor would never invite someone to the Other Side,' Minato had said, gaze a little confused. 'Something's strange,' he insisted, 'why did you and that other Wildcard have such hard trials?'

But when Akechi pressed as mildly as he could, because Minato tended to flicker if he pushed too hard, Minato just shook his head and said he didn't know the answer. Akechi would usually be annoyed at things like that, but somehow when you were floating in the middle of the universe as a ghost with nothing to do, you realise how small and insignificant your annoyances are.

But here he is, magically not a ghost and in the business of saving the world, so now Akechi turns it around in his head as the teacher drones on about chemical formulas to a classroom half asleep from boredom.

Akira and his merry band of Phantom Thieves were more than enough to beat Shido, but Minato had said the world had fallen anyway. Akira had 'accepted a deal', but he knows Akira enough that he'd cared. He had cared more than enough, for a traitor like Akechi. Akira wouldn't have listened to any words dropped from Shido's mouth.

Maybe Akira was great enough to beat Shido, but fell to the unknown mastermind?

Akechi narrows his eyes as he taps his pen on his desk.

The thought of Akira and his sharp smile, his indomitable will, his utterly maddening sense of optimistic justice somehow acceding to some paltry God is greeted with a bright burst of anger.

Had he been an unknowing puppet to more than just Shido? Had they all been part of a greater game?

"Akechi-kun," the teacher interrupts from the front of the room, "come up the board and balance this chemical equation please."

He abruptly loosens his death grip on his pen, taking a deep breath before sliding out of his chair. He takes the chalk out of his teacher's hand and quickly does the math in his head, writing the numbers under the chemicals and stepping back with a benign smile when the teacher beams.

"As expected of Akechi-kun, great work!"

"Thank you," he bows, before going back to his seat, shelving his previous thought for later. There's nothing he could do about the mysteries of Mementos now, so he lists it as a worry for an Akechi of tomorrow.

He has plans for today, anyway.

The music store after school is bustling with the bright chatter of students while some J-pop band plays loudly over the store speakers. In the hubbub, trying to find the bands of the musicians that Minato had mentioned in passing is harder than he thought. Akechi has never been interested in music beyond having enough conversational material to work with, so any genre beyond classical, jazz or modern pop is basically a mystery to him.

Past the large racks of the latest hits, he passes the dark leather aesthetics of more metal bands before finding himself in a calm corner, where only one or two hipsters were browsing the CDs.

It's the second-hand section. Akechi hasn't bought anything second-hand the moment he became sponsored by Shido.

It's logical though, to think that Minato's 2000s music would be found here, so he browses. He soon finds two of the bands Minato had murmured about – some alternative indie rock with an appropriately artsy depiction of a moose in an urban landscape on its cover, while the other is bright blue and drawn with an anime girl staring intensely out with her hands over her headphones.

Akechi stares at these, a little conflicted. It feels… strange. He would never have bought these by himself. These artists were obviously too unknown to be any sort of use in a networking scenario.

One of the hipsters that had been browsing notices the CDs in his hands and gives him a wide smile.

"Oh hey, you don't look like it, but you have great taste!"

Akechi tries not to startle as he clenches the CDs protectively. "Thanks," he settles with as he slides the two albums under his arm, fighting the urge to step back while the other guy continues to chatter at him.

"You like the same stuff as I do! I dunno why, but older music just sounds so much better than the stuff they're pumping out recently doesn't it?" He continues, before taking a CD out of his own stack of music and giving it to him. "If you like them, I bet you'll like this! Go on, try it!"

Akechi tilts his head slightly in thought.

The other guy's warm enthusiasm is… not overwhelming, exactly, because he has been a celebrity before. But it's surprising. Akechi can see no motive except a genuine desire to share.

It's with a slower movement than usual that Akechi takes the CD out of the other boy's hand, even as the hipster looks at his watch and cursed.

"Drat, I'll be late! I hope you like the CD, fellow music lover! Let's hope we bump into each other again or something, I buy music here all the time! Bye!"

Akechi looks down silently at the extra CD in his hands that isn't part of Minato's music preferences, and it's tempting to just place it back on the shelf and wash his hands of this whole, strange affair.

In the end he keeps it, and after a quick browse he exits the store with the cheapest CD player he can find.

When he sits back inside his dorm, the curtains closed against the sunset trying to stream in, he plays all the CDs in turn.

The one with the moose on the cover turns out to be quite a relaxing mix, the singer preferring soft tones and bare accompaniment most of the time, drums a gentle beat at the back and clever acoustic rhythms. The anime girl album is much more electronic, with jazz chords and suave beats interjected with lines of bass and alternative pacing.

They're both quirky in their own way, and he sees how Minato suits them, what it said about his character that he'd drown the world away with such bright pieces of music in his ears.

The third CD that the random hipster gave him is a modern piano mix, the cover a lone white figure of a boy against a dark forest.

It starts off with loud, discordant chords that are structured (but not exactly pleasant), and Akechi winces when it continues for longer than he expects. He turns to the album information inside the case for answers, wondering exactly what he wasted money on. There're a few paragraphs of dedications before there's a note written by the composer describing his inspirations.

Akechi blinks in surprise. With a little glance of consternation at how the piano continues to bang away, he lets it continue, placing the album on top of the other two in a neat stack and preparing his stack of homework for today. The music plays in the background as he goes through his Japanese History sheets.

He ends up finishing his essay about the relationship of Art and Politics during the Sengoku Era by the time the CD ends on a gentle major scale that glistens up in an ascending ripple, ending the whole piece with a soft ringing note at the top.

It's… pleasant.

Akechi slides the CD out with a thoughtful hum, placing it carefully back into its case.

The second experimentation with Shido is as he expected. They don't meet up in his apartment anymore – instead, they're in a fancy underground bar, emptied for their convenience. Shido gives him a list of tasks to experiment within the Metaverse again, and Akechi quietly keeps his deceptions stable as he pretends not to know how to find the Shadows of specific people.

He'll take it slow this time, not be such an overachiever. Last time he had delved into Mementos night after night, figuring out how the Metaverse worked and reporting it all to Shido in hopes to impress him and show him how valuable he was.

His past self was an idiot.

"You will try delving into that public unconsciousness you mentioned before next week," Shido commands from his seat. His face is flushed from all the alcohol he'd been indulging in as Akechi explored how moving objects in the Metaverse would affect the Real World (basically nothing except a little cognitive dissonance). "I'll send you a list of tasks, and you can submit a written report to me. We don't have to meet up."

"Alright, Shido-san," Akechi pretending to be slightly disappointed as he's dismissed for a band of giggling girls that push past him, obviously on call the moment Akechi finished his experiments.

"Masa-san~~ We've missed you!" They chorus as he takes the stairs two at a time and the door hasn't swung close yet.

"How are all of my little angels?" He hears Shido reply, and Akechi has to suppress the shiver of disgust that crawls up his spine.

He can't believe he centred his life around someone like that. Why had he valued Shido's opinion so much?

("Your father is just away," his mother's blurry smile in the morning after a hard night. A bruise on her jaw. She carefully places a microwaved bowl of rice in front of him with a dash of soy sauce, and Akechi doesn't bother telling her that he knows that she's unmarried. "Of course he loves you.")

The busy chatter of Tokyo streets are, as always, a relief, and Akechi puts thoughts of Shido away with determination, thinking instead of what dinner he should have.

He loads up on two puddings on his trip to the convenience store.

He needs a little bit of a treat today, anyway.

It's about halfway through June when he gets a reply for his internship. When he clicks on the email, it's a congratulatory message (not that he expected anything less, barring Shido intervening) and an invitation for an interview a week later, on June the 20th.

There's not much to prepare, really, so Akechi makes sure his smile is in place for the day, his clothes are crease-free, and walks into the Tokyo Police Headquarters.

There're more than a few people this Friday. There are various people in front of him before they reach Maika-san, the receptionist, who looks like she's been harried enough for today. The man currently talking to her seems to be especially spittle heavy as he argues that he didn't violate his restraining order, he just accidentally dripped water on his anklet which is… To be fair, not Maika-san's jurisdiction, which she has told him multiple times already.

Akechi adjusts his smile to something a bit more sympathetic when it's his turn.

"Hello, Maika-san," he greets politely, giving her a small bow. "I'm Goro Akechi, here for an interview for an internship?"

When the harried woman sees Akechi, a spark of recognition lights up her eyes and crease them into a tired smile. The streaks of grey in her hair and the eyebags covered with thick concealer hides a woman whose stress has aged her beyond, what Akechi remembers correctly, someone who just hit 30 years of age.

But there's still that look to her that Akechi envies when he sees it in people, of a stubborn sort of kindness and optimism that hasn't faded even though she's in a dead-end job facing horrible jerks all day. It's that well of strength that Maika-san obviously pulls from when she shakes her head and gives him a sincere look of congratulations.

"You were the kid who came for that internship info, right? Congratulations!"

Akechi tinges his smile with a little more feeling. "Thank you, Maika-san."

A few taps later, Maika directs him down the hallway into a smaller sitting area where it doesn't take long for someone to call his name. Entering the door, Akechi can't help but feel quite satisfied when he can name all three people at the panel interview.

He bows deeply at the door.

"Good day, everyone. My name is Goro Akechi. It's an honour to be here today."

He knows exactly what to say.

Thirty minutes later, he keeps his body language humble as he backs out of the room. Akechi has to actively suppress the triumphant smirk that keeps trying to take over his face, even as he nods at the next nervous interviewee with a kind, encouraging air. His records are flawless, and he presented all the ideal traits of their selection criteria.

Heh. The others don't stand a chance.

Maika is busy when he leaves, so he gives her a small wave when he catches her eye and goes to a nearby pancake parlour. [AMERICAN STYLE!] The neon sign blazes cheerfully as he steps into a wave of air-conditioning that smelt like fried sweets, butter and cream. The sight of thick stacks of pancakes on the plates of other patrons makes him let out a small sigh of indulgence as he starts skimming the menu.

"I'll take the strawberry-cream stack with extra sprinkles please~"

It's a familiar bubbly voice, to his surprise, from the girl in front of him, and Akechi blinks as he finally registers that the voluminous blonde hair in front of him isn't a result of some gyaru-fashion, but is actually natural.

Ann Takamaki tucks her small purse back into her pocket before cursing when her phone falls out as a result, bouncing to land near Akechi's feet.

"Oh, sorry!" Takamaki says, even as Akechi automatically bends down and picks it up, offering it to her maybe a little too woodenly to be natural. "Thanks for that!" Her blue eyes crinkle in a smile of appreciation.

"No problem," Akechi replies, pasting on the best Detective Prince smile he can. Dipping his head a little as he steps past her to the counter, he lets himself stare sightlessly at the menu board. Takamaki is still standing there, waiting for her food to finish cooking as she now fiddles with her phone charm. Her pretty face is slightly bored, middle-school uniform fashionably arranged, and even just standing there she makes a picture attractive enough that Akechi can count at least five guys who have stared at her more than it was socially acceptable.

"Isn't there some way to get this open, Mona?!"

Her voice had been panicked, near tears even. Akechi swallows, and his saliva tastes like blood in his mouth. His hands involuntarily touch where the bullet had pierced his chest and—

"Umm... Are you alright?" Takamaki asks, hand reaching out to shake his arm, and Akechi has to fight himself not to flinch back. In her face echo the rest of the Phantom Thieves looking at him in those last moments of undeserved sympathy.

In her voice, he hears Akira's quiet, quiet agreement to their last promise as he stared down the gun that ended his life.

Her face is kind, tinged with the simple worry for a stranger. In that moment, the sun filtering through the logo on the window shades her face in wavy red, and he tries to assuage her, but what is there to say?

"Isn't there some way to get this open, Mona?!"

…No. No, he can't do this.

He smiles and pretends that he has to take a phone call, shoots an apologetic smile at the guy behind the counter who has been waiting more patiently than he deserved and hightails it out of there. He storms into the streets and down subway steps, bypassing people as he feels the world squeeze him a little more tightly than usual. His plans for a quiet afternoon is utterly transformed from a few seconds of seeing a Phantom Thieves' face.

What is he doing? Akechi's heart thunders underneath his fingers still pressed to the bullethole and the dead heart it bore through. Ann Takamaki should be the very last person he runs away from. She had one of the simplest characters in the whole Phantom Troupe, bubbly, forgiving, friendly, one of the characters to inject a cheerful air to the Thieves. This encounter should be nothing. It does mean nothing. Akechi has done nothing to try connect to her yet.

He's faced down Shido. All Takamaki had ever done to him was invite him on a few dessert trips he's always studiously denied. She had been friendly, whenever they had met. He should go back there now. March back, and create a better first impression on one of Akira's closest friends than the pathetic display he just showed. Try to be kind this time, to someone who has never been less to him.

Yet, his feet still pace faster and faster.

Away. He wants to go away.

And as Akechi has always made the best decisions in his life when he's stressed, anxious, and slightly self-loathing at his own weaknesses, he thinks fuck it, fuck all of this shit, why the fuck is he anxious about some God that never appeared in his past life anyway, fuck, and shimmers into Mementos with no preparation, weapons or items and practically sprints into the first Shadow he sees.

He beats it down with his fists, imagining every single punch landing on Shido's face. Every single counterattack the Shadow tries to do is useless, he's fought these mooks a thousand times before.

When he finally meets a few strong to physical attacks and the effort of taking a Shadow down is overcoming the utter catharsis of going absolutely nuts, he reaches up to his mask with Loki on his lips.

"Loki!" He yells, hand on the corner of his mask that…

His head is wrenched to the side, and the mask doesn't come off. Instead, his neck now complains of a slightly strained muscle as he now finally calms enough to realise that he's not in the belted skin-tight bodysuit that Minato always made fun of.

Akechi stops breathing. No, it can't be. Slowly, he reaches up and feels hair.

His mask is not basically a helmet, and the cape that he's used to having, flapping ragged, is uncomfortably heavy on his back. He lets the Shadow he was pummelling run away as he twists now, panic rising when he realises that his ragged cloak is now a full mantle made of black feathers, two wings sewn haphazardly together to make it impossible to fly.

His hands, Akechi realises in horror, are in gauntlets, he has light greaves on, and he seems to have a full set of light armour that's gleaming solid black. His mask is a curved blade of a thing that doesn't protrude forward as much as it curls back behind his ears and continues to stick out with bladed feathers. His fingers fumble against it, so unfamiliar when he's used to the smooth curve of Loki's helmet.

"Loki!" Akechi screams this time, reaching for that empty loathing, that feeling of being belted down and entrapped like a butterfly pinned to a corkboard, of being ever trapped in society's unfairness and the swirl of bloodthirsty vengeance against anything that had ever mocked him, looked down at him, abandoned him.

He stiffens his neck, takes the mask by its bladed edges, and wrenches.

The mask stays on. Akechi wildly searches his mind now, and Robin Hood is still there, just like last time when he led Wakaba around. It's a burst of childhood memories, of hopes and dreams and benign inquisitorial energy, latched onto a smaller, idealised vision of himself when he was young. Robin has always been easy to find – a small patch of brightness in an otherwise morbidly dark inner psyche.

The darkest corners that Loki had hovered, feeding off the shadow of Shido in his mind is gone. Instead of Shido, there’s a vague form of a boy chained to a cross, head dipped, and a black feathered mass of a thing that breathes, standing valiant in front of it.

The previous overwhelming shadow of Shido is diminished, smaller, uglier, less awe-inspiring. He's still large and hulking, still mysterious and dangerous, but Shido's reach doesn't reach into all the corners of his mind, doesn't have eyes in every shadow. It doesn't strangle him with every breath, it doesn't mock him with his incompetence. Instead, it sits in the corner and Akechi stares because something like that could never support the visceral burning desperation of Loki.

Oh.

Oh.

Akechi turns the upcoming sob into a loud, wet laugh, letting it echo down the cavernous tunnels of Mementos. He laughs, laughs and laughs and laughs, laughs until tears are running down his cheeks.

Because it's true, he realises now. Shido isn't the large, threatening entity that he's chained to. He knows Shido will never acknowledge him, no matter how desperately he tries. He's just disposed trash, in the end, dead with a bullet in his chest. So he hasn't been trying, didn't nervously tuck Shido's phone in his inner pockets always waiting for a call, always wondering how to impress, how to become more perfect, how to show Shido that it was a shame he didn't love him.

Shido can't chain him down with exposing any of his crimes and assassinations, Akechi lives free from his surveillance, and he might be able to start saving legitimate money if the internship pans out, further separating him from his influence.

Shido hasn't become the thing he revolved his life around, a legend bigger than life. He's learnt his lesson on being dependant on a man like him. This time he stared at Shido in the eye, listened to him calling out to his prostitutes, seen what his mother had been to him, once in a lifetime past. Seen him for the disgusting, unworthy man that he is, unworthy of the emotions that he still wrenches out of him, time and time again.

What drove him these last few weeks has not been Shido.

"I'll try save the world," Akechi mouths to himself now, tasting the intentions of these words, and he doesn't really kid himself that he's actually become some sort of hero, some sort of gallant knight, even though he guesses that might be what he looks like now. The burn against the world is still there, Akechi is still petty as shit, and he will only fight for what he believes in, what he has chosen.

It's just that his choice isn't Shido anymore.

You've taken long enough. Are you going to call my name or wallow in the past and blind yourself to the potentials of the future you can wreak? The future is in your hands... in selflessness or selfishness. Saviour of the world or saviour of yourself... What will you be?

Akechi clenches his teeth against the pain that the voice wrought in his head, even as something in his heart protests angrily.

He's selfish, yes, but he's selfish enough to want everything. Of course he's going to claim a better future for himself.

But why can't he save the world in the process?

There's a wild laugh in his head.

Hahahaha! Your grand ambition, your lust for strength, glory and honour... I acknowledge it all! Power, in its greatest form, is freedom! Form a vow with me, time-traveller, you who is never satiated! Raise your sword, curse the world, and fight!

The monstrous black form in his mind shivered, black feathers ready to take flight, and Akechi's head feels like it will burst as something unclicks and the world is focused on the low magnetic voice ringing in his head. He has no other option.

I am thou, thou art I… I am the Goddess of War, Death and Prophecy. Join me on the never-ending battlefield of fate! Call my name!

"Morrigan!" Akechi finally yells, and the mask rips off his face in the same painful way as he remembers, and the resultant energy pours out of him into a beautiful female warrior three times his size, armoured in black, heavy armour with an intricate sword in hand, crow wings growing out of her back in a large sweep reminiscent of a Renaissance painting. The silver sword in her hand glows, and the only colour he can see on his Persona is a flowing mane of golden hair that drapes in waves from her helmeted head down to her waist. She's smiling a little sharp to be sane, a little too dangerous to feel human.

She raises her silver sword with unholy glee when she spots the Shadow that ran away cowering at a dead end. The knowledge of what she's doing bubbles in his mind.

"Hell's eye!"

Morrigan slashes down, and a beam of silver light passes down the hallway straight into the Shadow, and the Shadow simply… disintegrates.

Morrigan also fades behind him, smug, wild energy veiling her as she retreats back into his mind.

Akechi is left standing there, eyes wet with a few residual tears, shocked and hollow and scraped through as he stares at his gauntleted hands.

Clench. Unclench. Clench.

The tunnels are unusually silent. Akechi's breathing rasps against his lungs, loud in his ears. The adrenaline courses in rabbit fast thumps of his heart as Akechi feels like he just weathered a thunderstorm.

What just happened?

In the depths of his mind, the figure of Morrigan laughs, flaring her large black wings until they nearly reach the sky.

Chapter Text

[MadPscientist: hey remember were meeting today. 6 at the vet, dont forget.]

[GA: That’s fine, see you then ^^.]

Akechi’s delved into Mementos a few more times since the time he awakened Morrigan, venturing in the few layers that he could reach testing out his powers. Like last time, the mysterious God that he suspects is watching Mementos doesn’t appear as he ventures in the tunnels, and Akechi doesn’t know if he’s frustrated or relieved.

If Morrigan knew he was a time-traveller, then a God would most likely know it as well. If the presence of a time-traveller wasn’t enough to garner the interest of this God, what else would?

Perhaps a Wildcard that’s not himself.

It was Akira who accepted the deal… so perhaps it is Akira who is being targeted. The complicated flare of hatred and concern that arises (because, as always, it's Akira, always Akira in the centre of the universe) does nothing against that idea, so Akechi puts all the frustration into training as he focuses on exploring his current strengths.

Robin Hood is as strong as he was at the point of his death, his Bless and Physical skills making quick work of any Shadow Akechi passes. But he had never been Akechi’s Persona of choice. Generally speaking, he's just inefficient. Robin Hood’s Bless skills had always tired him too quickly simply because of incompatibility, and Akechi turns his focus to Morrigan.

Morrigan is weak, just like any other newly awakened Persona, but he’s surprised that she’s also strong to Curse and weak to Bless like Loki. Roaming Mementos as he had, he’s gradually attuned to her and her style, and more and more of her attacks are becoming familiar to him.

However, there’s a significant choice that has already been taken away from him, with Loki gone.

He cannot induce mental breakdowns anymore.

That was Loki’s exclusive skill, something he’d named Berserk. When used on ordinary Shadows, unprepared, they would go mad. If he used it once, it was only a temporary effect, making their real self go into a mild seizure. However, if he used it repeatedly, the Shadow would go completely insane. Usually, it was irreversible.

Once Shido had found out he had this power, he had liked it quite a bit. He liked to order milder ones, sometimes, where a drop in attention could mean death. It was also convenient when Shido was in a bad mood and wished to watch torture. Apparently, the effects of Berserk even in the real world was… significant.

Not that Akechi had wanted to tell Shido that Berserk existed this time. There had been times, people, that even Akechi's broken morality had felt he was going too far, where people went insane one second and horrified and devastated the next, even as Shido looked on in dark satisfaction.

No, Berserk not existing wasn't something that truly saddened Akechi. It was the fact that the choice was taken away from him that makes him grit his teeth, hit harder than usual.

His gauntleted hand grips the blades of his mask and rips it off as he directs Morrigan to kill another Shadow. She comes to him in a burst of unrestrained glee, swiping the Shadow with a Curse attack before settling back snugly in the back of his mind, ever-ready to join the battle.

When he used Loki, he used to whisper echoes of his own darker thoughts during the day, encouraging him on with sly quips and pointing out how his anger was justified, Akechi, to them you’re just a throwaway. Why, Loki would query, a silky-smooth murmur, is it bad to throw them away? An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth, and if they destroy you… why not destroy them back? In the end, Loki had been a comforting friend in the darkness of humanity’s psyche, a constant snicker at the pathetic grousing of the various Shadows they passed.

Morrigan however…

Morrigan tended to laugh, laugh a lot, with a sort of manic tilt accompanied by comments that were sometimes battle-crazed, and sometimes remarkably sane.

Your worries are stupid when you still know nothing, she advised once, a little wisely, while the next second she was wildly slashing a Shadow into pieces laughing wildly about the adrenaline in my veins!

He wonders really hard about what this says about his psyche.

You think too much, Morrigan snorts, all calm valiance when there’s no enemy nearby. Your future is intricately connected to many wrongs which you can right, but you are the orchestrator of your own fate and no more. Others will live their lives, will fight their fights. That is the nature of a battlefield – a million battles, a million lives, and yours only one in many.

Akechi rolls his eyes, and Morrigan only huffs, subsiding to Robin Hood as Akechi summons him with little struggle.

Robin Hood’s regalia cloaked on, Akechi heads up out of the nearest subway back up onto the streets. He’s wandered a little far from the vet that he agreed to meet Wakaba with, so he shimmers out of Mementos to catch a real train to Shibuya, before entering it again.

Wakaba has already entered the Metaverse by the time he gets there, sitting by herself inside the veterinarian clinic with a huge backpack unpacked in front of her.

“Don’t tell me you trekked across half of Tokyo with this on you,” Akechi says with exasperation the moment he enters the room, and Wakaba startles..

“Fuck, don’t do that!” Wakaba swears, holding her hands to her heart. “That gave me a heart attack!” Akechi only response is to smile, and Wakaba rolls her eyes. “Right, brat that doesn’t respect their elders, nearly forgot. Wait a sec, I’ll pack all this up.”

As she does so, Akechi barely manages not to frown. “I’m not joking, Ishikki-san. I don’t want anyone to know you’re doing experiments in the Metaverse,” Akechi repeats. He knows all too well what happens when people don't take the Metaverse seriously, when they're still complacent and unsuspicious. The fact that he caught Takamaki and Kitagawa with mere public CCTV says volumes about how seriously the Phantom Thieves took the matter until he started explicitly targeting them.

Wakaba gets up, hauling the backpack onto her back with a grunt. “I do weird stuff with my equipment all the time, no-one will notice. Now come on, let’s go! You can tell me what you know about this place while we walk!”

Wakaba confidently heads out of the vet’s while pulling out a headlight from her backpack, of all things, strapping it to her head in a beam of light that cuts through the gloom of the Metaverse a little.

Akechi manages small-talk with Wakaba as she chatters incessantly with questions, waving various instruments around. The only thing he recognises is a thermometer, though when he reads her notes from behind, he does understand most of her scribbles. Right now, apparently, she’s noting how the humidity of the Metaverse corresponds with the Real World.

Wakaba makes a face. “Humidity? I haven’t seen a single cloud. Is there even a water cycle here?" Akechi hums in brief thought before shaking his head.

“It’s never rained, but Shadows and Mementos itself does react to certain weather events.”

Wakaba stops squinting dubiously at the humidity figure and gives him an expectant look to continue, and Akechi recites the ones he remembers out loud. Pollen, rain, heat… Wakaba takes all of that with mad scribbles and puzzled tilts of her head.

“Fascinating, utterly fascinating. Seems like certain things leak through world boundaries… But why the weather of all things?”

Akechi follows behind her with more bemusement than he expects, as Wakaba in her research element is like watching a little kid that just got chucked a bowl of candy. She is so obviously excited, and although it's not unwelcome, it's certainly something he's not used to seeing in an adult. At least the adults in his life.

“Ishikki-san,” Akechi interjects after a solid twenty minutes of Wakaba examining the various rocks on the wayside, trying to collect evil-looking sludge and taking photos of their surroundings. “What do you research, specifically?”

“I’m actually not at liberty to say normally,” Wakaba replies absentmindedly as she madly scribbles in her notebooks, dropping two pens when she turns the page. Akechi has stopped helping her pick them up (it happens too often), and he’s just watching from where he’s leaning on the wall, legs casually crossed as he reviews some English notes for school. “My stakeholders are all like, really bigwigs and they want to put it on ham. It’s surprising though, isn’t it?” Wakaba taps on her notebook in thought for a few seconds.

Akechi tilts his head, switching his phone off to give her his full attention. “What’s surprising, Ishikki-san?”

“Well, if you think about it, cognitive pscience isn’t a field many people know of,” Wakaba replies without looking up. “I bet if you go around on the street and ask anybody about parallel dimensions and stuff, you’ll probably get sci-fi quotes or famous mathematicians, you know? Although some cognitive pscientists claim that cognitive events have been affecting humanity since at least 4000 years ago, it doesn't change that it's still mostly theoretical to the masses.” She laughs. "It's definitely not a random Bachelors you can choose when you go to university!"

“How did you get in the field then?” Akechi asks with more than a little curiosity now, and Wakaba hums.

“Well, I entered psychology at first,” she tells him, picking up her pens and tucking them under her arm as she hauls herself up onto her feet and waves him forward with her camera in hand. “My final thesis was on the effects of crowd psychology. Mass panic incidents, spectator effects, stuff like that. How does a crowd of different individuals with their varied skillsets and personalities do the same thing at times like those? That was fascinating to me, how us humans project ourselves as so different, and that individuality is so important to us for good mental health… but we are also so similar.”

Wakaba’s eyes shine as she starts waving her arms and the few pens that she tucked under her arm fall again. Akechi is trying really, really hard not to roll his eyes as he picks them up, but Wakaba doesn’t even notice.

“As I researched such things, I got very into the concept of belief. What is it? Why does it work? Because when people believe, Akechi, put their body and soul into something that they agree with 100%, that’s when people can do great things. Belief is such a force it can override morality, self-esteem, spark motivation and ambition, make people complacent… It's so mythical! Basically, I did a theoretical paper on it that’s way too long to summarise in a convo like this, but I postulated a few theories on this force of belief. One of them was basically one that hypothesised belief as not only an intrinsic force but also an extrinsic one too. It's uh… bleh.”

Wakaba falters, her hands struggling to frame what she’s trying to say as her face twists in confusion.

“Like, the beliefs inside you can affect the world around you too, and that sort of thing spreads through your actions, your atmosphere, your relationships, your community, your society. Your belief then becomes an extrinsic entity – it becomes a concept that isn’t individualised. It becomes something that not only you can wield, but other people can take and use as they like too.”

Akechi blinks because this sounds remarkably like what Minato was saying back on the Other Side.

“After I presented my paper, I was approached by a really big name to continue my research on the avenue I just mentioned. They gave me an invitation to join their labs on how cognition can actively affect reality. It was pretty high-end hidden stuff, not gonna lie, I was totally out of my depth. But I loved it, and after I finished my term there I made my own lab and continued my own interests in the field. Stuff happened, years went by, and now I can confidently say I’m pretty good at what I do.”

Wakaba glances over at Akechi when he gives a thoughtless hum in reply, hands in the pockets of his school uniform, eyes on the blank sky of the Metaverse as gears slowly churn in his mind.

“May I ask, Ishikki-san,” Akechi says without looking down. “Was that major lab an affiliate of Kirijo Group?”

Wakaba stills, before whipping around to stare at Akechi, who meets her gaze with a lingering smile on his lips. He crinkles his eyes in a way many have called 'endearing'.

“I’ll take it as a yes?” Akechi says breezily, and Wakaba has to obviously take a deep breath in and out before she replies.

“How the heck did you get Kirijo Group out of everything I just told you?!”

“Don’t worry, Ishikki-san,” Akechi replies, slowly walking past Wakaba, prompting her to follow. “Your secrets are safe with me as long as mine are safe with you. We have a deal, don’t we?”

“Speaking of the deal,” Wakaba lets it slide after an extremely pregnant pause, having lost a lot of her relaxed energy from before. Which is a shame, Akechi concedes, idly noting that they were nearing the subway entrance. Wakaba's eyes are narrowed when she says, “you still haven’t told me what you want me to do.”

“For me to do that, we have to head downstairs. Shall we?”

“Wait a sec, I think I dropped something…” She trails off when Akechi politely offers her pens to her, pleasant smile fixed to his face. Wakaba takes them with a deep grumble. “You know, I hate guys like you?”

“The polite type?” Akechi returns as they both turn towards the subway tunnel.

“No. The dickish type who always likes to be in control,” Wakaba says, and Akechi hums.

“Although I’m hurt by your accusation, you’re probably right, Ishikki-san,” Akechi agrees with his kindest smile on, and Wakaba huffs.

“Bah, disrespectful brat.”

“All I did was politely agree with you though?” Akechi says, and when Wakaba violently rolls her eyes and walks faster, an uncontrolled burst of laughter rips through him.

He blinks and puts a hand to his mouth in surprise.

“Well, you coming?” Wakaba demands, having reached the subway entrance, and Akechi nods, putting a more serious demeanour on as they enter Mementos.

“These are Shadows, an agglomeration of a society's negative feelings,” Akechi explains succinctly as he crouches around a corner, Wakaba snapping photographs like mad as he talked. “But these ones that just wander around aren’t the types that I wish to focus on.”

“They don’t talk?”

“No. If you go to your app you’ll see you can type certain things in there,” Akechi takes out his phone now, and he shows her the name he inputted. “If you type a name in there you can find a particular individual’s Shadow.”

They’re lucky enough to near the cracked bleeding walls of a Shadow only after two dead ends. His target is standing in the middle of a small room, just like usual, and he’s muttering things to himself.

“Hee hee hee,” the Shadow of Kei Tanaka snickers to himself, his voice echoing around, distorted. “That girl totally didn’t see it coming. That look on her face when I reached into her skirt! Oh, her panties felt so good under my hands, and no-one even noticed me! A good day, hee hee, such a good day indeed.”

Kei Tanaka was a serial train molester, one that hit a fairly high profile after he accidentally targeted the daughter of a famous celebrity, publicly lambasted and thrown into jail later in the year, despite the lenient laws for molestation.

Wakaba’s face is disgusted as she looks at the black Shadow of Tanaka, obviously not what she was expecting as she watches the Shadow's blazing yellow eyes crinkle up with glee.

“This is usually what many Shadows look like,” Akechi explains. “Every Shadow of every person mutter their own negative thoughts and feelings in its most unfiltered form. This, you could say," Akechi allows, tone dry, "is this man's heart."

Kei Tanaka stands there, sniffing his empty hands with delight, and Akechi wonders what Minato sees in people.

"Wait for a second, Ishikki-san, please stick to the side. I'll be finished soon.”

When Akechi faces Tanaka, Robin Hood is a burst of indignant injustice in his mind, ready to take him down.

“Wh-what? Who are you?” Tanaka stops muttering to himself, turning his focus onto Akechi. “What’re you doing here? You’re not welcome, get out!”

“Nothing. I just wanted to ask you if you can donate yourself to science for a bit,” Akechi says, blasé. “And while you’re doing that, to ask you to stop being such a creepy molester. Society is filthy because of trash like you.”

“W-what? Who’re you to speak down at me, brat?! It’s none of your business anyway! And even if it was, you don’t have proof! If you don’t have proof, then nothing happened!” Tanaka actually looks somewhat proud at the fact, giggling. "It was a crowded train, and the girl was too scared to move when I pushed up her skirt. Hee hee, if I deny it, no-one can pin it on me!

Disgusting.

Humanity is so disgusting.

“Well, it seems like I have to force you,” Akechi replies, his smile unravelling at the edges as he walks forward. The Shadow finally seems to sense a threat, quivering and transforming into a monster that seems vaguely familiar. Akira may have used something similar, once.

“You want a fight? Hee hee! Bring it on! I’ll show that you can’t just boss your betters around, kid!”

Akechi’s hand is already on his mask and he pulls it off with a sneer.

“Robin Hood! Megidolaon!”

Robin appears in a burst of energy behind him and attacks immediately with a large flash of light. The Shadow screams in pain as it immediately withers back into its old state, a black figure now cowering into the ground as he huddles his head into his arms.

“Y-y-you win! Stop that, stop, it hurts! I’ll do anything you say, please don’t hurt me again!”

“You’ll donate yourself to science?”

“Y-yes!”

“You’ll stop being a disgusting human waste of a molester?”

“Yes, anything!”

Akechi clicks his tongue in distaste as he places his mask back on. When he turns to Wakaba at the edge of the room, her eyes are as wide as dinner plates.

“What,” she manages to say when she practically sprints over, her hands hovering over his mask like she wanted to steal it right then and there. “Was. That?”

Akechi blinks. How would he even begin to explain what a Persona was?

“Um… I’ll explain that later. First, let me explain what I want you to research.” Akechi walks towards the cowering Shadow and pokes it. The Shadow trembles, and huddles in further.

If he fails to outmanoeuvre Shido, he might have to prove his loyalty. Akechi, who is being groomed to become an assassin, can only prove his loyalty to Shido by doing one thing. Getting rid of his opponents.

The moment he had saved Shido with his Metaverse powers, he was already too deep. Shido had involved himself with Metaverse research even before Akechi came – although Akechi didn’t know how, the Metaverse was already one of Shido’s trump cards. Even if Akechi had saved Shido with the Metaverse, if Shido knew there was a free agent in the Metaverse that wasn’t on his side, he would’ve used as many resources as he could to get rid of him, just like the Phantom Thieves.

However, Akechi had gone to him, giving Shido an invaluable, convenient tool to make the Metaverse an easier resource to exploit. Now that Akechi held their contract in his hands it was either sticking with Shido or bear the consequences.

Consequences.

Shido was the type of person who would kill someone, steal their research, and then do the unnecessarily cruel action of pinning the death as a suicide on an innocent child. He was the type of ask an investigator every month or so for a distant report just to enjoy their slow mental break-down and revel in his own power.

‘They deserve it’, he’ll justify, ‘because they stood against me.’

If Akechi leaves Shido now, he knows he’ll be returned to an orphan’s institute as he’s kicked out of the dorm. His emancipation will be revoked and he’ll most likely return to Minato as a dead soul a few months later.

That’s something he can’t afford.

“Ishikki-san, if you kill a Shadow, they die in real life,” Akechi says blandly, and the Shadow underneath his fingers shrinks back in fear. “Take it from me as a fact. The death of a Shadow is the death of their psyche, and the two are irrevocably linked. What I want you to research is simple.”

Wakaba, on the other side of Tanaka’s Shadow taking a few notes, nods to indicate she’s listening.

“Two agents,” Akechi says. “One to make a Shadow fall into a coma, and one to make them wake up.”

“One question. Can Shadows sleep?” When Akechi nods to her question, her grin widens. “Then it’s easy. Deal! Give me a few weeks, and I’ll whip it up no problem.”

A few weeks.

It’s near the end of June, and Wakaba originally died in August.

Of course, Akechi has already slowed down the progress of Shido’s Metaverse experiments with him to a crawl, and Wakaba was only in danger once Shido actually started to use the Metaverse for his purposes. By Shido’s notes, he had been planning to start his presidential campaign in August.

That was why in his past life, Shido had ordered Akechi to start killing Shadows in the first place. It wasn’t as if Shido was going to delay his campaign plans just because Akechi was feeding Shido information drip by drip. Akechi had been a welcome factor, but these initial plans… they’d been made without him.

Ultimately, Shido didn’t need him.

It's a thought that makes Morrigan stir angrily at the back of his mind.

“You have until August,” Akechi says, and Wakaba thinks.

“Probably doable? That’s a pretty harsh deadline though,” Wakaba grimaces. Akechi responds with a close-lipped smile.

“You’re a genius right, Ishikki-san? I’m sure you can do it,” he encourages, giving her a friendly fist pump in encouragement.

When Wakaba gives him the most disgusted snort in existence, Akechi’s heart lightens a little.

He clears out the wandering Shadows in the area while Wakaba pokes and prods the Kei Tanaka’s Shadow and does her thing. When she comes out with her large backpack all packed and ready, Akechi’s long been sitting at the entrance to the room finishing off his English review for the week.

“I have so much data!” Wakaba’s practically shouts, buzzing with energy. “And I’m working off pure adrenaline right now because I haven’t slept for the past thirty-six hours! I need coffee! Sojiroooo, where are you?”

Swallowing his comment that she probably needed sleep than more caffeine, Akechi glances at the time. It’s nine in the evening, which is a little late for dinner.

“Your daughter?” Akechi asks as they walk to the exit, and Wakaba shrugs.

“She’s fine, I dropped her off at Sojiro’s today telling her I had some overtime research to do. She likes that place, and I promised her we’ll get some late-night dessert together when I got back. There’s a special we both want to try,” she replies, jogging up the stairs of subway. Akechi follows her up and out, Robin Hood’s outfit transforming back into his normal wear as they go past the vet to a discretely parked car at the back.

“Well, this is me. Bye, creepy boy. I’ll message you when I’ll be free to meet up next week.” Wakaba waves and, with a tap, fades out of the Metaverse. In a few moments, the car disappears too, as Wakaba drives it off in real life.

It is silent again.

Akechi turns back the way he came, shimmering back into existence in an out of the way corner before strolling down familiar streets back to his dorm, buying himself a packed dinner from a convenience store on the way. He beeps himself through and goes up the stairs. The small room that greets him is becoming more and more welcome by the day, and he lets himself relax as he locks the door behind him.

As he watches conspiracy theories on his laptop from some random guy ranting about possible historical events caused by cognitive pscience, there’s a quiet moment when he realises that one of the bonds in his mind has changed.

Devil Rank 1 – Masayoshi Shido

Fortune Rank 2 – Wakaba Ishikki

Universe Rank 10 – Arisato Minato

Akechi stops chewing his salad in surprise.

It wasn’t as if he and Wakaba had a deep and meaningful talk about life or anything. Why did it go up? He’s met with Shido way more, and he’s still stuck on Rank 1.

…Did Wakaba enjoy the research opportunity that much?

Whatever, he’ll take it.

That night, he dreams of the Wakaba’s Shadow, and the despair in her tone when she stares down the gun in his hands. The world is burning around him, hot, humid August. The trigger is slick under his finger, but he pulls it anyway. Yellow light dims from the Shadow’s eyes, disintegrating into dust, but it's not a Shadow now, but blood splattering over the floor. Wakaba's brown eyes fade.

“I’m sorry, Futaba.”

He wakes in such a foul mood the next day that not even an email saying he’s been accepted into the internship program can alleviate it. There’s a few checks and procedures they tell him he has to go through, but since Akechi had already applied for most of them while he was waiting, all he really has to listen to is the advice at the end of the email telling him to appear ‘in comfortable shoes’ and ‘formal dress’, and that the program will officially start by the 4th of July.

Shido sticks to his word – this Sunday, all he sent through the phone was a series of tasks he already knows the answers to. He quickly answers Shido’s assignment, making a note to send it that night, and rolls over.

It’s Sunday. He’s allowed a small break, now and then.

He keeps himself busy for the next week, waking up, going to school, diving into the Metaverse with a cheap laser sword he found at a dollar mart, and strengthening Morrigan as much as he's able. Her voice becomes more familiar over time. Like Loki, she likes to chime in from time to time again in the lonesome hallways of the Mementos as he's flitting about like a ghost. But where Loki offered silken whispers, Morrigan mocks.

Hah! What a lily-livered pig-brained fool, is all she says in response to Shido's requests, and the accompanying days are filled with an unending series of insults that make Akechi more and more impressed as time goes on. If Morrigan truly drew on his Psyche to say such things, he's honestly a little impressed with himself. By listening to what Morrigan absentmindedly mutters as they delve into the Mementos together, he can insult someone without repeating for a few pages straight. He doesn't know if he can ever get to that level of vitriol outside the Metaverse, but sometimes he imagines saying some of these choice insults to Shido's face and laughs with Morrigan, who is equally entertained by the idea.

Robin Hood, who has never been very vocal, just sends random bursts of disapproval and amusement at them as Akechi maps out the confusing tunnels of Mementos again.

Wind blows to unknown depths. Perhaps, all the way to the hidden Mastermind who was watching him with all the amusement of a God, cold eyes staring up from the dark.

Do not overthink, is all the advice Morrigan can give on in this matter, and it's good enough advice in regards to an issue he cannot change that Akechi decides to dismiss the thought until later.

All of this manages to keep Akechi busy until Friday comes and he reports into the Police Headquarters for Tokyo, neatly dressed in his semi-formal clothes. He joins another two boys, both older than him in full suit and tie. They all greet each other with basic bows before returning to silence in their small waiting area in the corner.

They're all a little early, so Akechi allows himself to bask in the atmosphere of the place. It's nostalgic - the foyer is filled with the vague artificial smell of carpet, leather and air-conditioning, the aged tiles and elegance reminding him of late nights and heavy case files. It makes him imagine the weight of his attaché case, coffee runs from a place worse than LeBlanc, and something in his heart settles as he sits in the foyer listening only to the cavernous echo of clicking heels against stone and steel.

The silence is suddenly shattered by a loud slamming door and a roar of anger. Everyone in the foyer jumps a little, staring at the two people who storm through a back door.

"Just lend me one of them, Naho! There's three interns and we're short on hands! Even just someone to look over the cars and documents would be enough!"

"Atsuzawa, that's not how it works!"

The second exclamation comes from a harried-looking secretary who is following the shoulders of a well-trained man, thin as a whip and well taller than the Japanese average as he storms straight towards the three of them sitting in their discreet waiting area.

"It's your job to make it happen!" The man yells back at the secretary, and Akechi feels a pang of sympathy at the utter lack of patience that flashes over the woman's face. "Call the boss, use this phone and quick-dial five." The man, Atsuzawa, chucks a phone at the woman, who catches it neatly and starts hunching around the phone the moment the call connects.

"Yes, I'm sorry Director, yes, it's Naho speaking… Well, the matter is that Atsuzawa-san is demanding an intern for his division…"

That's all Akechi can hear before the tall man sits heavily onto a couch that faces all three of them. While the other two straighten themselves up in politeness, Akechi allows himself observe the man.

Atsuzawa has hair that is messily combed, a structured face that is clean-shaven and a little too sharp to be called attractive. A glare for eyes, jawline razor-sharp - all the lines in Atsuzawa are thin and long. Peeking up from his shirt is the beginnings of an old scar, and if this is who Akechi thinks he is, then he is a very odd surprise.

"My name is Fusazane Atsuzawa, and I'm the current leader of the Special Investigation's Unit for Organised Crime." The man's voice is slightly hoarse, as he establishes eye-contact with all three of them. "You're the newest interns entering into the General Investigation's Unit, right? What are your names?"

One of the other boys immediately speak up, shooting up to bow. "My name is Hideo Tanaka! It's nice to meet you today!" Hideo's voice loud and energetic, face eager and excited.

"It's nice to meet you today, Atsuzawa-san, my name is Daiki Haga." The second boy bows politely, and Akechi lets himself do the same.

"Hello. My name is Goro Akechi, Atsuzawa-san."

"Good, good…"

That's when the secretary, who had been quickly muttering a back and forth on the phone, comes back. "The Director agreed, Atsuzawa-san," the woman says with the look of a person who has seen too much coffee with too little sleep, and Atsuzawa merely rolls his eyes with a grunt.

"Of course the old man said yes, he owed me one after he cut my budget. Go away, Naho, I'm on a time limit here."

"Ugh! Say thank you for once in your life!" Naho yells over her shoulder before loudly muttering 'I want to switch departments,' as she stomps off up an escalator, and Atsuzawa turns his attention back to the three boys.

"I know you all applied for an internship for general investigations, but I promise I'll treat you right if you come into my division instead. My department specialises in Organised Crime. All of you know what it is?" Akechi and the three nod, and Atsuzawa breathes out a sigh of relief.

"Good. Now, my internship offer is basically the same as the general investigations – you're all just interns, so I don't expect you guys to do any specialised work on the field and such. Most of the time, you'll be looking over documents, fetching ridiculously long coffee orders, watching over video feeds, shadowing my team, and learning how to write reports."

Atsuzawa huffs a laugh.

"I'm not saying anyone's better but having a Special Investigation's Unit on your resume looks great. And I can guarantee that I'll recommend you to any other Special Unit afterwards. You'll have my back. The only thing is that anyone without a flexible schedule can leave now. The one thing I can't guarantee is a steady schedule."

No-one gets up to leave.

This time Atsuzawa beams. "Alright then. I have a brief selection criteria for you three since I can only take on one intern. My offer will go to whoever gives me the best answer, alright? You have five minutes."

As Akechi takes the piece of paper that Atsuzawa hands out to the three of them, Akechi wonders.

Is this fate?

Fusazane Atsuzawa isn't a name that is entirely unknown to him. He's a legend in the investigative circles, having busted two drug rings in a relatively young career, and his careful balancing of old-school yakuza relationships (a controversial move) and his high rate of apprehending criminals have served to give him great respect in both the upper-rings of the underworld and police. In addition to the fact he's basically a blue-blood, even as a second son, – a mother coming from long lines of ministry, and a father still in direct politics, led even Shido to decide to deal with him after his successful Presidential election.

Yes. Atsuzawa is entirely removed from Shido's circles. It's a deliberate move – Shido, being the head of his own ring of organised crime would rather not stir the hornet's nest yet, and two, Atsuzawa was famous for being known to be completely immune to bribes and benefits.

If he gets this opportunity…

Akechi's fingers shake only a little as he reads the question on the paper seriously.

There's only a small paragraph.

Akechi blinks, right when one of the other boys look up quizzically from his own reading.

"Is there a right answer to this?" Haga asks politely.

Atsuzawa snorts. "It depends on your logic. I just want to see your answer."

There is little information, and it's worded in a way that invites confusion. But Akechi is good at logic. But most importantly, he's also good at showmanship. Combining the two isn't hard.

And perhaps, this time, Akechi wants to crush his opponents.

He smiles gently down at the paper, glancing over it one more time before putting it down on the small coffee table in front of them.

"May I begin, Atsuzawa-san?"

The other two are obviously surprised at his speed. It hasn't even been more than a few seconds, and Tanaka managed to suppress a strangled 'what, already?' even as Atsuzawa raises one long eyebrow.

"If you're ready," is his answer, and Akechi reaches into his pockets. He didn't clean out his pockets after that presentation, so he should… Yes, found them. He takes out six paperclips and places them on the table.

"Let me begin by first establishing that it's obvious F's death is a murder. If it wasn't, there wouldn't be any point in pushing blame around."

He puts A and C's paperclip at the top, D and E underneath, and F as a lone paperclip at the very bottom of the stack. B is placed to the side.

"For B to be ruined, A needs to work with C, who presumably plans on using D to scapegoat B. The roles of E and F are ambiguous, but in general A, C, D, E and F are all in a coalition against B. However, something unexpected happens in the plan – F dies, accusing D as planned, but D accuses C, his partner, for the murder instead. This pulls A down alongside him."

Akechi points to each paperclip in turn, making sure to make natural eye contact with all three of his audience. Impressing Atsuzawa is his goal, but he's also trying to seem like he's good at being sportsmanlike. After a brief pause to recollect his thoughts, he continues.

"The chain of evidence shouldn't link to A. If D is working with C and A, then D should have accused B for framing them for murder as the mastermind instead. If that happened, A would successfully ruin B. That obviously didn't happen."

"The only one who would benefit from D's betrayal is B in this scenario, and that's why I suspect B may be the real culprit, trying to foil the plan to ruin him. Let's say that F was supposed to die. B must have then manipulated someone to break A's coalition between C and D, with A being accused as part of B's plan."

"Taking a step back," Akechi continued to explain, "A was probably using C because of his connections with D and E. F was merely approached for the murder. Maybe C was working with D and E to take down B because they have opportunities to hurt, or know B from before. If this is the case, this can explain why D or E betray C, since they knew B already."

"If D is the betrayer, D merely has to accuse C, and A's plan is ruined. If E is the betrayer, E can manipulate D to be suspicious of C, making the communication between D and C break down."

This time he uses a finger to shift D and E's paperclips into the middle, between B and A before leaning back into this chair, waving emphatically back to A's paperclip.

"In this scenario, the one with the most motive to kill B is definitely A. He still has the most motive. However, you can't discount D or E – they might also have a motive to kill B. Betrayal," Akechi smiles, "is complicated business. Sometimes, there are all sorts of reasons why parties choose the way they do. D or E may not be friendly to B, and may be trying to wipe away evidence of betrayal or even other reasons. So I would rank the probability of the truck driver as follows. The failed mastermind A, the betrayers D or E, the collaborator C after them because he has no direct relation to B, and F last, because he's mostly removed from the situation."

There are a few moments of silence as everyone takes what he says in.

"A-and I didn't even know where to begin," Tanaka squeaks, eyes wide as he looks at Akechi, even as Atsuzawa's eyes gleam and the slash of his mouth rises into a manic grin.

Akechi had let his mind run naturally, and what he said was definitely pure speculative logic. He knows that if he had time to write it out and examine the scenario with more depth, he would definitely pick out flaws and plot-holes. But this should be enough. He hopes this is enough.

"I'm impressed kid," Atsuzawa says. "It was creative logic from a scenario that doesn't give you much. Creative and quick, and with a logic that I could follow. Your assumptions have reasons, and in the real world, you can investigate that to see if you're right. Good job."

Akechi doesn't catch the proud smile quick enough, and Atsuzawa laughs, a hoarse bark of a thing.

"Okay, you two. You still have… three minutes."

Tanaka laughs, "No, I don't think I can think after that. I'll happily accept the general internship."

Haga takes a few more seconds before putting down his paper with a resigned smile. "Now I can't see anything but the scenario you stated, Akechi-kun."

Akechi bows slightly towards them in apology, even as Atsuzawa hauls his weight off the sofa and waves Akechi with him. "Seems like you have the spot, kid. You two, don't feel bad – you'll definitely have a chance to go to Special Units sooner or later. Work hard."

"Yes, sir!" The two say even as Akechi follows Atsuzawa's large strides towards the back of the building where the Special Units have their offices. However, they take different turns, going to a different section of the building that Akechi usually took for the team that investigated mysterious Mental Breakdown cases.

Eventually they sit in a small office, with only four more chairs in addition to Atsuzawa's.

"This is our team corner. It's nice and cozy, I know, you're welcome. Come read this, and sign it if you agree. Don't skim it this time," Atsuzawa tilts his mouth in a smirk. "This is legal stuff. I'll explain anything you don't know, so ask if you don't get it."

Akechi takes it and tries to pretend he's not skimming it. He's signed a similar one before – there isn't much difference except highlighting the greater duties he might be expected to uphold with a SIU instead of General Department. The warnings and such are still the same, confidentiality and expectations, and Akechi delays for a few minutes before signing it.

"Welcome to the team!" Says Atsuzawa, wiry arms clapping him on the back, and this time, Akechi is expecting it. An Arcana. The man in front of him has an atmosphere larger than life, a figure who can obviously alter his fate. A legend to be distantly admired sitting in front of him with expectation instead. When the space between moments comes, he stills along with it with a slight anticipation.

Of course it's Justice, and Akechi's smile turns a few shades more genuine.

The thin face of Atsuzawa disrupts his thoughts, as he enthusiastically exclaims, "Great! You available tomorrow?"

"All day," Akechi confirms, and the knife-smile of Atsuzawa widens. If Akechi wasn't so used to staring down Shido's goons, he thinks Atsuzawa probably intimidated a lot of people.

"Perfect, perfect! Meet up with me at five AM tomorrow, at the entrance, at reception. Yes, there. We have a lead that needs our specialty outside Tokyo, and I need more hands."

That's… abrupt. Akechi rolls with it though, used to the odd hours that some SIU have to take on. If this case is the reason why Atsuzawa desperately needed an intern, he would embrace it with open arms.

"Where are we going?" Akechi asks.

When Atsuzawa replies with the name of the town, a few hours out of Tokyo, before continuing to chatter about giving Akechi a grand tour of the Tokyo Headquarters, it honestly takes a few moments before Akechi's brain stalls.

Wait.

Wasn't that the name of Akira's hometown?

Chapter Text

Lazy curls of smoke drifted into the air, rising up to be whipped away by a gust of air-conditioning from the vents above his bed, and the woman lying beside him twitched her nose and curled up tighter. He didn't even know if the woman was a prostitute or not, but she sure seemed willing after he shoved a wad of cash in her hand yesterday. Without alcohol, he thought idly, her features were plainer than he thought.

Shido sucked in another long breath of his cigarette to blow it into her face before getting up. Not much need to keep her around when she was so dull. He'd get a bodyguard to kick her out soon, after getting her details and setting up a monitor to see if she needed silencing.

When he walked into his office and sat down on his leather chair to start the day, a voice started echoing in his head.

“--------------------------------------."

Him again. Shido adjusted his glasses as he leaned back into his chair, swinging it around to face the window behind him and the great expanse of Tokyo beneath. The dawn was rising behind tall high-rises, dim yellow tinging his desk with shadows. A city just waking up, millions of people living their own, oblivious little lives.

His. This was nearly all his.

"I've been holding my end," Shido rumbled in reply. "I've grown the Conspiracy. I will soon have another in my grasp."

“-----------------?”

"What about him?" Shido asked, dark eyes monitoring the dawn as it lit up the sides of buildings, moments of blazing golden sheets of glass, the millions of people inside them, underneath him. A struggling country, beneath all its veneer, all its modernity. A country of indolent fools who yearned for guidance, for security, for safety, caring enough for the injustices that disturb their happy little lives, but never enough to rise up and take action for others.

He agreed to his philosophy – this otherworldly Being who promised to sway the masses of this country to him by taking advantage of their sloth and their continued wish to remain indolent and apathetic. If they were so willing to leave their future to someone else to solve, then Shido was merely their God-chosen answer.

“-----------------------------------------------------------------------.”

Shido blinked in surprise, before letting himself run through what he knew of Goro Akechi. His memories recalled that scruffy teen in old shirt and pants, and the hate-edged tension in the line of his body that suddenly smoothed over into practised blandness. A confident negotiator, an innocent smile. He gleaned little of his true emotions from that moment forth. Shido had been reluctantly impressed.

"You told me you'll send me a tool, but it seems like you sent me a snake sleeping in the grass," Shido tested, and the voice scoffs.

“-----------------. ------------------------------------------------------.”

"Is he that important?" Shido asked with an increased stirring of interest.

"---."

Goro Akechi, and that faint spark of rebellion and disgust in his eyes bowing over to Shido's whims. It, he smirked, wasn't a bad picture. Shido had always liked a little… resistance in his relationships.

"Why him?" Was Shido's next question, but the Being didn't answer, merely bursting into laughter that echoed in Shido's mind.

Dawn was ending, and time was running short. Shido mused on his next question. Even though Akechi hadn't been the perfect tool he had been expecting the Being to deliver, easy to manipulate and fool and use as he wished, he had still been merely seeing him as an important resource to exploit.

Now the Being wished that he would tighten the boy's leash.

Controlling that boy's heart would have been easy before that sudden wash of logical calm. The Being had brought the boy to him with a heart already twisted with obsession, but that had suddenly changed.

Perhaps that's why Goro Akechi was of such importance to the Being. Perhaps he had somehow slipped out of his control.

Which is, Shido smirked, fascinating in itself. A person who could defy a God… Could be someone worthy to stand on his side.

"What do I get for all this extra effort?"

“-------------------------.”

Not bad, not bad at all…

The morning sun now blazed strongly on his face, and the voice correspondingly faded. Shido closed his eyes, folding his hands in front of him as he took a moment to enjoy the sunlight. A few seconds later, Shido reached for his phone and tapped a number.

"Bring me all the information you've collected on Goro Akechi."

When the files arrived, the data was frustratingly scarce. It at most reached three pages, and even then most of it was the background check he already made. It seemed Goro Akechi kept a rather subdued, private lifestyle, one that would not be out of place on any honour student. He went to school, had no after-school activities, did homework until late, before sleeping and repeating the cycle. On weekends, he went to local cafes and enjoyed strolling around Tokyo. He mostly bought common amenities, clothes and food, and had a fondness for sweets and coffee.

The utter inanity of this report made Shido frown.

Akechi had obviously gone to the Metaverse if he could report his results back to Shido, and none of his current investigations had caught him out of his normal routine even once. He was obviously paying useless fools if they couldn't even decipher a teenage boy's actual routine.

When Shido read the last page, he scowled. Akechi's internship wasn't taken by the General Department, where Shido had planned to make one of his plants contact Akechi as a mentor.

Instead, that troublesome fly had taken the boy under his wing. But when Shido scanned the details, he can only agree that the encounter between Atsuzawa and Akechi was entirely coincidental. Atsuzawa's bad mood over the drastic budget and personnel cut to his division had been well-known to anyone near the policing circle.

What else could he use?

His mother, perhaps.

Shido remembered her – had a nice few months with her before she got a little too desperate, talked about her son too much. Then she just became boring. He only neglected her a bit before she threatened action, so he had to get rid of her despite her pretty face. If Goro Akechi cared about his mother, this could be a good target…

Otherwise, a few people now and then whined at him to donate money to orphan institutions. Didn't Akechi come from one of those institutes, where children were picked like produce by foster parents?

No politician would touch such a socially taboo topic, so he'd ignored it. Thinking back, Shido remembered that there was an institute kid back when he was in high school, bullied until he committed suicide. He'd laughed alongside the rest of them, not thinking much of that dirty-blooded fool who always sat in the corner, reading poetry and wasting everyone's time by stuttering all day from anxiety.

Shido tapped his desk with a finger.

Akechi wasn't as useless as that boy. No, an ambitious person like Akechi would feel resentful, angry, and revengeful. Deluded, thinking a man like Shido had to take responsibility for a prostitute like his mother.

However, that was the obvious answer, and its obvious Goro Akechi was more than he seemed. He had played the sad, neglected, money and affection-hungry orphan at every meeting while his true thoughts lurked inside.

Shido rubbed his goatee in thought.

There were no other glaring weaknesses other than Akechi's mother, was there?

Well, no large matter.

He chuckled.

An opponent with no weaknesses merely meant he had to create one.

Akechi wakes up to the blaring alarm he set yesterday, and he rubs his eyes with a groan. It's still dark outside, and although the breeze is pleasantly cool when he opens the windows, he would really prefer it if the reason he could appreciate this coolness isn't that he's up at 4 AM.

No matter how bright and sunny his smile had been on those breakfast shows he used to guest on, he had never particularly been a morning person.

But he shores himself up by thoughts of triple-shot coffee from the friendly café around the corner as he grabs the bag he prepared yesterday. He slides into his semi-formal clothes, leaves the dorm, and grimaces at the dark pre-dawn. Joining the half-dead shuffle of early workers into the station, he manages to cradle a beautifully hot coffee in front of the Police Headquarters by 4:45.

He's barely alive when 5 AM rolls around. Atsuzawa jogs up the sidewalk right on time, a large pack in hand. He looks like he didn't have the chance to go home yesterday as he's wearing the same clothes, beard unshaven and hair sticking up strangely on the sides.

"Good morning, Atsuzawa-san," Akechi greets with a polite smile and bow, trying to look like he's draining the dregs of his coffee with less desperation than he feels.

"Akechi, we're catching a 5:20 train, I pre-booked tickets already to Nishi-Hachioji. Hope you didn't think you can sleep during the one-hour trip, you're going to need to catch up on a few case files, hah," Atsuzawa rasps as he waves him to follow, eyeing his coffee cup in envy. "And buy me coffee too next time. I drink black, super-hot, and add as many shots as the barista is willing to sneak in."

Akechi quickens his stride to match the tall man as he ignores other pedestrians and barrels straight forward.

"Alright, Atsuzawa-san. As long as you pay," Akechi replies serenely, and Atsuzawa grins.

"Neatly sidestepping my first rookie hazing ritual? I can usually leech a few days' worths of coffee until Naho comes for my head." Atsuzawa scratches his chin as he seriously contemplates his reflection on passing retail stores. "Am I less scary because I pulled an all-nighter?"

Akechi hums.

"Although I cannot say anything about your intimidation factor Atsuzawa-san, I've recently read in a scientific journal that the majority of the population do judge people with sleep-deprivation as less attractive."

It's to a small sense of satisfaction when Atsuzawa reacts like he expects, throwing back the sharp juts of his shoulders to laugh, a bright sound in the sparse morning streets.

"Hah kid, Naho is going to love you," he informed Akechi after they safely crossed the road, arriving at the wide station square in front of Tokyo Station. "I'm glad you have some guts. A lot of kiddos are too scared to talk up to their superiors. I know some guys like keeping their office all serious, but that's stifling in my opinion."

Akechi doesn't reply as Atsuzawa marches forward, busying himself by collecting their tickets and leading them onto the correct platform. They stay mostly silent as Atsuzawa texts rapidly on his phone while Akechi scrolls through the newest social media.

Rise was going to release a new album soon, Featherman R was going to do a new café pop-up in July, an article about the epidemic of school suicides… and didn't that actor get into a scandal later on because she was found to be doing drugs?

There's no interesting news so Akechi gives up after a while, scrolling through dessert blogs until they've settled into their seats. When they do, Atsuzawa takes out a clunky old laptop, lovingly preserved.

"Okay kid, you're an intern so I can't show you everything. But I'm going to show you enough so that you know what's happening, what we're doing, and why it's important for you always listen to whoever you're stuck with. If I, or any of my team, tell you to go somewhere, you go. If we tell you to stay somewhere, you stay even if it seems stupid and long, and there's nothing to do. Okay?"

Akechi nods, and a part of Atsuzawa's glare softens.

"Good. I made a small info file for you yesterday. Read through that and ask me questions if you need to. While you do that, I'm going to catch up on some sleep."

Atsuzawa then shoves the backpack in between the window and his face, puts a folded tissue on top and settles down in his seat by folding his gangly body like a pretzel. He's snoring like a foghorn in seconds, and more than a few other people in the vicinity shoot irritated glances at them until Akechi gives them soft, apologetic smiles.

When everyone settles down, Akechi starts reading through the file.

The details were like this:

At the start of the year, the police were busy trying to catch all the minor gangs and groups trying to grow and fill in the power vacuum that Atsuzawa had left after he caught two major drug rings in a row.

All the way back in January, the general police caught a guy and treated it like a routine clean up – a hefty guy in his thirties called Shion Gen, who supplied drugs at bars as a side-hustle. In the day, he was normally a Flagman, a worker at the train station who flagged whether it was safe for trains to continue. They arrested him on the basis that he was caught selling drugs and did his term in jail.

However, in a week, he was dead in his home in the bathtub, wrists slit multiple times. It was judged to be murder, not suicide. One, there was a small note, written in blood on the side of the bath and hidden by the slump of his own body. It spelt 'Kazu'. Two, the fact that the blade that made the cuts could not be found, and that there was a smeared drop of his blood with a foreign shoe print in the corridor. They rechecked his situation and found it suspicious – they determined from his communications that he wasn't a lone seller, but was probably a part of an organisation much bigger.

That was when Atsuzawa's team was called to check the situation.

Atsuzawa's team did their own routine check, and he called in on his 'contacts' to see if they knew anything about the situation.

Probably the yakuza, Akechi thought as he scrolled down to the next page.

His 'contacts' told him that Shion Gen lived in a territory where there was a succession dispute going on, and someone was probably taking advantage of that turmoil, the power vacuum, and the police's distraction to try seed their own network through the area. Either that or perhaps one of the successors was trying to amass quick funds for themselves through the drug trade. If there was further information, his contacts had refused to comment.

Forensics told them that the drugs Shion Gen was selling was of acceptable quality but didn't seem imported from overseas.

Their search had eventually found lead them now, months later, all the way to a town near Nishi-Hachioji, where they busted a pest-control franchise outlet. There, hidden in all the poisonous chemicals, inside canisters labelled Rat Poison, were buckets of the drug Shion Gen had been selling. In the basement, there was a high-end chemistry setup with compounds and chemicals ready to be processed.

The owner of the pest-control business had been a friend of Shion Gen's uncle – a man called Hideki Shibata in his fifties, who had been charged thirty years back for assault and battery and been in and out of prison several times throughout his life for other minor crimes. A small note from Atsuzawa highlighted that he had also been affiliated to his own 'group' by his extensive tattoos, though which 'group' remained unclear.

Hideki Shibata has not been seen for the last two weeks.

Shion Gen's uncle has already been deceased for the past ten years and was a lecturer at a community university specialising in science. Other than that, there were no direct connections between Shion Gen and Hideki Shibata. Looking through their combined contacts, there were 32 people with some form of 'Kazu' in their name. Investigations towards those were proceeding slowly.

Akechi scrolls down and sees nothing else, before sitting back in deep thought.

There are a few instances of strangeness.

Atsuzawa wouldn't have been alerted in the first place if Shion Gen hadn't been murdered with slit wrists. Had he been killed more efficiently, no-one would have known something more was happening. What had he happened upon, and why had the murderer killed with such a slow, inefficient method? It was also stupid to take the weapon. Highly odd.

Furthermore, Hideki Shibata was obviously a major supplier, but for him to disappear for two weeks and just leave the evidence of his crimes (worth, as estimated, at least more than a hundred thousand) lying around seems oddly unorganised for an obviously organised group.

Akechi scoured his memories for something that could help this case, frowning as he taps his fingers against his elbow. Even after a few minutes, all his memory churns up is the fact that he doesn't hear much of Atsuzawa during the Mental Breakdown Cases. He's never truly seen him past an article here and there about various small breakthroughs, and even then they were rarely front-page.

No-one had ever dared to say a negative word about him, of course. His past accolades were too big. But no matter the amount of respect someone has, there will always be gossip, and Akechi had heard a stray whisper here and there.

What was it? Why had Atsuzawa become so low-key and subdued? Atsuzawa's case record had remained highly praised, so this case must have been solved in the end. Rumours of a large round-up and someone was... Yes, the investigative legend brought low because someone was fatally injured. Atsuzawa was not the victim but was ultimately blamed.

How though?

Akechi weaves his fingers together and rests his head on them, looking out the window to admire the dazzling yellow-greens of Japan's summer fields. Nothing else comes to mind, which isn't a total loss. It at least tells him one fact – if this case isn't something he remembers, it means it probably isn't related to Shido.

Junya Kaneshiro is already a major funder of Shido's campaign, and among the spread of his scams, there was definitely a drug trafficking scheme. As Kaneshiro is deeply entrenched in Shibuya, and Shion Gen was traced to be active in the backstreets of Asakusa, it might mean Akechi will have to go into this blinder than he expected.

The train rattles over a particularly rough patch, making a baby start crying and Atsuzawa's head to finish its slow slide off his bag. He jerks awake, eyes flying open and immediately notices that Akechi had reached the end of the document. "Kid," he says blearily as he scratches the side of his face. "You finished already?"

"Yes, thank you." Akechi nods as he slides the laptop over. Atsuzawa closes the lid and slides it back into his bag. "What will I be doing there, Atsuzawa-san?"

Atsuzawa yawns. "Transcribing interviews, taking notes, minding our stuff, shadowing one of my team. Even though I recruited you because I needed more hands, I know you're just a schoolkid. I'm not going to put you into anywhere near harm's way, don't worry," and Atsuzawa reaches over and ruffles Akechi's carefully styled hair thank-you-very-much, and Akechi barely manages not to grimace.

"You can depend on me, Atsuzawa-san," he says instead, voice appropriately enthusiastic, and for the rest of the trip he busies himself with the welcome pack that Atsuzawa gives him that details everything he should know about working for the police.

Soon they step off the train and catch a bus for another twenty minutes or so, and just like that, he's arrived. It's a quaint township, at the foot of the mountains and filled with old ladies. There's a street market he can hear bustling somewhere close, and for some reason, it feels a little sacrilegious as he steps into unknown territory for the first time.

This was, after all, Akira's hometown. Something none of the Phantom Thieves ever got to see.

Rain drips off the eaves, down in a veritable stream into the gutters outside LeBlanc, the shop warm and bright in comparison to the damp winter outside. Akira has, for once, stopped stirring curry or grinding coffee or even standing around letting himself be Morgana's mobile cat tower.

He's sitting in front of Akechi, his glasses off because he'd gotten them wet. His sharp eyes are pleasantly shaded, the dip of his eyelashes creating shadows over his cheekbones when he blinks from the overhead incandescents – and Akechi hates how effortlessly he sits, slouch somehow elegant, fingers delicately tracing patterns from rising steam.

Akechi had been mindlessly nattering about something regarding the concept of home and inheritance, insincere words floating about in the space between them to fill up the chatter. But Akira is taking it all in seriously, intensity somehow muted by the smile curling around his lips.

"This is home," Akira says when Akechi gives him space to answer, and his other hand gestures languidly around the café, "more than any other space has been."

"May I ask that you share more of your opinion, Akira?" He replies, and Akira pauses a little. Akechi has noticed that he does this often when he wasn't teasing, as if he liked to think about what he said before he ever shared it into the world. It made everything he did say somehow weighted and important. Akechi thinks Akira never truly realises the extent the Phantom Thieves drop everything to listen whenever he says something out loud.

"Home is… a feeling. People. Tied to a place that's your own."

There's something unbearably sentimental in Akira's face, looking around the place.

So Akechi smiles and interjects. "Yes, I agree. The concept of a home is more than a mere argument of land-rights and mortgage debt, isn't it? Perhaps people are so prone to their ugly fighting whenever inheritance and money come along is because idealistically, they're all fighting for the scraps of nostalgia and warmth in their past tied to that piece of land. That feeling of home."

Akira's eyes search Akechi then, and they both know he caught onto the barbs that Akechi had hidden in his response. Akechi merely avoids his eyes and smiles into his coffee.

"Beautiful," he murmurs. "You've done a lovely roast this time, Akira. Thank you."

Akira's hometown.

Perhaps it shouldn't be so intimidating since he had already been to LeBlanc, Akira's self-proclaimed home and family.

Akechi swallows hard anyway as he follows Atsuzawa down the road into humid sunshine.

After walking a few roads, they stop in front of a large apartment complex where a young man dressed in a casual suit stands, face lighting up when he sees the two.

"Atsuzawa-san! And hi, the new intern!" Jogging over, the man peers at Akechi with friendly curiosity. "It's nice to meet you, Intern-san! I'm Yoji Takaki, your senpai! How old are you? Still in school right? How wonderfully young! You'll be shadowing me today, but don't worry, I'll take care of you!"

The end of his sentence is peppered with energetic laughter. Akechi has always tried to avoid loud people. But he's a co-worker, and this has made Akechi default into his most professional smile.

"Likewise," Akechi smiles, bowing slightly. "I'm Goro Akechi, Takaki-san. I will be in your care."

Takaki beams, and Atsuzawa sighs.

"He was the previous rookie," is all the explanation he has to offer, and Akechi watches as the older man squints at his watch. "Well, it's seven. Follow Takaki, Akechi. It's time for you to see how unglamorous our work is. I have an informant to catch, toodles."

As Atsuzawa waves them goodbye and continues to walk down the road, Takaki smiles down at Akechi, being a head taller than him. He has a plain face that's easily forgettable, but it's stretched into a smile that's clearly meant to be warm and welcoming.

"Come on, Akechi-kun! We have some people to interview! I'll teach ya on the job."

Takaki chatters as they head into an apartment complex, and waves at the whole building with a grand gesture. "Ta-da! Today, we'll be trying to get as many statements and opinions and such by people who knew Shibata-san! We'll be interviewing all the people on his floor, which is the fourteenth floor, as well as anyone who had recently engaged his services, as well as anyone who is a member of his mah-jong club. Since there was a rat problem apparently, we have a lot of ground to cover!"

"And how many are there?" Akechi asks as Takaki cheerfully hands him a clipboard, feeling a sense of relief as he looks at the apartment building. His chances of bumping into Akira have become infinitely smaller.

"Oh, quite a few! One hundred or so? Shibata-san was quite social before he disappeared!"

The relief is gone. One hundred?

Akechi pastes his smile on.

"Let's get started then, Takaki-san?"

"Of course! I'm glad you're so eager, Akechi-kun. Trust me, having a person by your side doing this sorta stuff will make time fly past!"

Time does not fly past, and most of the apartments they call upon are either empty or uninterested in being interviewed further than a few questions. Even Takaki starts to sweat as noon comes along, and he starts to become more and more impressed at Akechi's unflappable behaviour.

"Wow, Akechi-kun! If we were put together, they'll think you're the professional instead!"

"Even when the old guy yelled at ya, you were all calm and cool, Akechi-kun. That's amazing!"

"How do you know exactly what to say? I have to step up as a senpai!"

Akechi is trying his hardest not to wring Takaki's neck as he turns his polite smile down at his notes as they head to the next apartment they're targeting.

First, Shibata was quite a friendly individual. For the past few decades, he had been a friendly face around town, easily visible in the community. He'd never made a secret of his store being part of a pest-control franchise, and that he sometimes delivers goods to Tokyo to a store there.

A month ago, he had stopped appearing at the mah-jong club, but his business had still been running.

Many of the people who interacted with him regularly noted that he seemed 'nervous about something' but when pressed, 'didn't really know what. He was kind of secretive, you know?'

Although many remembered that Shibata kept referencing his 'wife' and 'kid' that lived somewhere in Tokyo, they've never seen anyone visit him.

One old man had squinted and said 'I think a man visited him once, a young guy. It was a few years back,' but when showed a picture of Shion Gen, he had shaken his head and said that wasn't him.

"This is the last apartment on Shibata's floor, Akechi-kun. We can catch lunch after this, okay? Thanks for being such a big help!" Takaki beamed, knocking on the door, and Akechi laughed.

"No, I can't take much credit, Takaki-san. All I did was stand to the side and take notes."

"Do you know just how much time you cut just by taking notes so I didn't have to do it? Don't underestimate yourself, Akechi. You were a HUGE help!"

The door swings open, and a teenage boy with a huge mass of curly black hair stands in the doorway in slacks and a loose t-shirt.

Absent-mindedly, Akechi thinks in the back of his head that the boy's hair is quite ugly. It's thick and unruly, covering the eyes and basically a mop all the way down to his shoulders (he obviously hasn't cared enough to get a haircut for a long time), and he lets Takaki take the lead again, standing back and thinking over all the details they've acquired. Takaki flashes his police badge.

"Hi, I'm Detective Takaki, and this is my assistant Akechi, from the police! We're investigating a missing person case, Hideki Shibata, who lived on your floor. Are you free to answer some questions for us?"

The teen in front of them stays silent, cocking his head to the side as he examines them. It's in the keen way he examines them both in turn that Akechi finds himself being drawn out of his thoughts with a niggling at the back of his mind.

Horrible hair aside, there's something achingly familiar in the way that the teen holds himself.

Akechi's eyes widen. It can't be.

"…Sure."

Akira Kurusu's quiet voice is practically deafening as he opens the door wider and waves them inside.

Akira's apartment is quiet, with only the ticking of a clock somewhere deeper inside maintaining some background noise. Akira himself stands there, hands in pockets, bare feet on clean flooring as he watches the two of them take off their shoes to head inside. The parts of his face that aren't hidden by the ridiculous mountain of hair he has on his head is as calm and unflappable as always, and Akechi feels a flash of resentment.

Here he is, still reeling from the betrayal of the sheer statistical improbability of Akira living in the one apartment building they were questioning, and all Akira has to say about that was a soft, 'Coffee?'

Akechi bites his tongue while Takaki laughs.

"No, thank you! If you don't mind, I wouldn't refuse a cup of water though. Akechi-kun?"

Thankfully, the smile that he's pasted on all day seems to have solidified on his face, and Akechi manages to wrench out of his headspace enough to gently shake his head in reply before promptly forgetting his feet exist. He nearly trips over the step up out of the shoe area before bare feet step into his vision.

"Careful."

Akechi stares at the hand holding his elbow. Akira's grip is strong. He has seen this hand countless times with a few more scars than this young, smaller one. Grinding coffee, a hand-up after a harsh battle. Tugging members out of the way, tagging them, curled around a dagger. Pale fingers in dark hair, twirling a curl in thought.

"Change Shido's heart in my stead… Please!"

A voice much closer than he expected – Akira must be standing right on the other side of the door. And there it is, a reply as reliable as always. It's a flat tone. There's an emotion Akechi can't identify, in the small waver of it.

"I promise."

It's a good response from the only person in his life that he could trust, and Akechi turns to face the gun again, pointed directly at his heart—

"Akechi-kun, are you alright?"

Takaki's voice cuts into the haze building up in his head. He will not lose composure like he had after he met Takamaki. Akechi manages to find his footing and pull his elbow back to where it belongs, sending a distracted bob of a bow in thanks at Akira's direction before facing the detective.

"Sorry, Takaki-san. Maybe the heat is getting to me."

"Ah, I'm so sorry! It's my oversight as your supervisor!"

A glance from the corner of his eye has Akechi noticing Akira is still standing closer than he is comfortable with, hand already retracted back into his pockets. He has his head tilted again, observing Akechi, with that damnable mass of hair blocking his eyes. Akechi smiles at his chin.

"Thank you for before. Shall we?"

Akira nods and pads to his kitchen, where the two sit politely while Akira pours two cups of water and settles down in front of them.

Akechi sips water while Takaki does most of the questioning, taking notes. It's not particularly hard – Akira answers with short, to the point sentences – he didn't know Shibata personally. He knows Shibata has been living here since before Akira was born. Other details are inconsequential until Akira unexpectedly produces something no other person had.

"You mean, you saw him two weeks ago when you were coming home late? With two other people?!" Takaki says with excitement.

Akira nods.

"Are you able to describe them?"

Akira hesitates a little but nods again. Takaki's smile is so blinding Akechi politely averts his eyes, taking another sip of water.

"Amazing, this can be a breakthrough! Kurusu-kun, may I ask you to come to the station tomorrow, so we can take your statement and your description of the two other people? We'll have a profiler make a portrait!"

Akechi's overactive mind must be acting up because Akira definitely did not glance at him before nodding again.

Takaki continues beaming. "Great! Thank you very much for assisting us, Kurusu-kun!"

Akechi's already packing up his notes while Takaki hashes out more details as to when and how tomorrow was going to happen when his face changes as he looks down at his buzzing phone.

"Oh crap, it's Atsuzawa-san! Akechi, hold the fort for a bit, I have to take this call. I sincerely apologise for my rudeness, Kurusu-kun!"

Akira waves at him that it's fine and Takaki takes his call to the shoe area with soft whispers, leaving Akechi and Akira sitting in silence at the small dining table.

It's surreal. He's never seen Akira surrounded by such domesticity – the kitchen at LeBlanc was hardly comparable to a home kitchen, filled with wear and tear, used counters and knick-knacks here and there. Akira looks comfortable here, his loose t-shirt ragged at the collar, sitting at the table making no effort to touch the phone he's placed on the table. Out of politeness, Akechi has refrained from using his phone too, leading to this current situation of silence as Akira keeps looking at him (or he might be – not that he could tell with all that hair in front of his face) and Akechi keeping the calmest smile he has on his face while he pointlessly shuffles his notes.

Somehow, when he imagined meeting Akira again, he never factored in awkwardness.

It has never been an issue before. With the Phantom Thieves, his role as the detective to hunt them, his goal to charm and deceive them, there had been too many things that he could talk about and not enough time. He could approach Akira even in the beginning merely by asking him about the Thieves, exploring Akira's fascinating morals and character. Now, that was all impossible.

Normal small talk seems trite, talking about fashion trends seems wildly inappropriate, and asking Akira friendly things seemed strange when he was there as a detective's assistant. Who knew illegal activities were such a great conversation starter?

'Hi, you were the only friend I've ever had and the last time I saw you I sacrificed myself to atone for my horrible life choices,' seems like exactly the wrong thing to say.

As he's slowly resigning himself to the awkward silence, Akira shifts, hesitates. When Akechi looks up, Akira breaks the silence first.

"Why choose to be a detective?"

Akechi blinks in surprise (when had Akira ever initiated conversation?) and stops messing with his notes. It's a slightly strange question to ask a person you just met but it is Akira, and he is perhaps the one person in the universe he does not wish to brush off.

"Ah, I must correct you, Kurusu-kun. I am not a detective just yet – I am merely an intern." Akira responds with a tiny shrug indicating no difference, and Akechi acquiesces. Fair enough.

"Any question related to career can be a difficult one to answer," Akechi replies, thinking of all the reasons he can't share. One-upping Shido, the Detective Prince title being convenient for Mementos diving, becoming a better rival for Akira in the future - all these things weren't things Akira in the present would ever understand. "But if I must answer, perhaps it is because as Hegel once stated, 'To him who looks upon the world rationally, the world in its turn presents a rational aspect.'"

Akira tilts his head quizzically, and Akechi lets out a small chuckle.

"It simply means that if one views the world rationally, our irrational world becomes rational. Many view crime as a force of chaos and disorder. I would argue that the detective is one of the major roles in society's system to view this chaos with rationality, to iron out order and make sense of bewildering acts of cruelty and harm. What's most admirable is that they create this rationality not only for themselves, but for everyone involved in the world around them - victims, the court, the Justice system, the perpetrator. I have always admired that, and so as soon as I could I applied for this internship."

It isn't a lie.

A younger Akechi had once sat starry-eyed as television detectives lay out the grand reveal to an evil murder. Putting disparate clues together that no-one else in the cast could understand into a scenario that fits, noticing small details and discrepancies to meticulously make a whole picture that entrapped the bad guy.

Justice. A harbinger of truth.

Akira takes that in with a thoughtful hum, mind obviously turning his answer over in his head. Akechi uses the moment to ask the question back.

"Have you thought about what you wish to be in the future, Kurusu-kun?"

Akira stops twirling a long lock of hair. "I don't know," he replies while gesturing Akechi to finish his cup of water. "I haven't really thought about it."

Akechi takes an extra sip before he replies, "Understandable. The future is filled with many choices, it can be hard to choose so quickly. And Kurusu-kun, don't worry about the water. I wasn't truly affected by the heat."

"…What were you thinking then?"

No particular answer comes to mind. "Your hair," Akechi's mouth blurts when the silence stretches too long because he obviously wants to die, and somehow his mouth just keeps going. "I was, well, it's summer, Kurusu-kun. Your hair is so long and thick," and hideous, "and I was surprised," because it engulfs your head. "Your face, I mean, I think you'll look better with short hair?"

Akechi forcibly stops himself from talking more by taking a large gulp of water.

When he looks up after processing an unhealthy amount of frustration at himself in the span of a few seconds, he sees Akira patting his hair stoically. Akechi has no idea what he's thinking.

"Is it that bad?"

Yes.

"No, please don't take my words into account—"

Takaki steps back into the kitchen with a loud apology then, and Akechi invites him back with relief. This first meeting is, in his opinion, much worse than the first encounter he had with Akira the first time. Sure, there were no personal stakes and he didn't have any reason to want to impress the other, so it was quick and nothing was exchanged, but in retrospect, wasn't that great? Fantastic, even. His famed eloquence had been working back then.

Oh god, Akira was going to remember him as the hair guy.

"Sorry, Kurusu-kun, Akechi-kun! As you know, business calls. Let me go over the details again with you, Kurusu-kun…"

Akechi is all too glad to leave conversing to the professional, tidying up the notes and slipping it all into his bag as they both retire out the apartment.

As he's leaving, there's a light tap on his shoulder. Akechi manages to calmly turn around.

"Yes?"

"See you tomorrow," is what Akira says before he closes the door. Takaki is smiling at their interaction, looking like he just saw a baby hedgehog sneeze or something.

"You guys got friendly, huh? That's great, Akechi-kun, but remember he's a witness! We have to keep professional boundaries, okay? It's part of the job," and now that Akira is out of his field of vision Akechi's brain is back online. A million topics for friendly, impressive, intelligent conversation suddenly flood his mind ten minutes too late. Akechi smiles up at Takaki viciously wishing Mementos existed here so he could hurl himself at some Shadows and slaughter the memories of the past half hour away.

"Of course, Takaki-san. Thank you for reminding me," he agrees amicably as they head towards the elevator.

Takaki hums a little off-key tune as they head to lunch, meeting up with Atsuzawa on the way. They don't actually keep interviewing the building – Atsuzawa judged they had enough material and set Akechi onto making a transcript of a recorded interview he obviously just finished while Takaki is sent somewhere else. That takes the rest of the day, and the three of them stay in a motel for the night.

Sunday morning finds Akechi inside the station sorting out yesterday's statements with Takaki when someone comes to fetch them.

"Your witness is here," a bored officer states as he raps on the door, and they both get up to greet him at the small reception.

Akechi blinks.

"Wow, you cut your hair, Kurusu-kun!" Takaki says, friendly. Akira's eyes, now perfectly visible, glance at Akechi before he replies to the detective.

"I got some advice."

"Well, believe me when I say you look great," Takaki says as he leads the way to their borrowed room, pulling out a chair for Akira to sit. "Want water, tea?"

"Water please," Akira replies before he looks to Akechi when Takaki goes to fetch a cup. "Better now?" He asks, and Akechi can feel his ears redden.

"Really, Kurusu-kun, I didn't mean—but yes," he quickly changes his statement when it becomes obvious Akira isn't interested in apologies, "you look better. Much better."

And there it is, that tiny smirk that was the closest he ever got to Joker's wild one when he was in the Real World. As the moment stretches, it strikes Akechi that there's just something so absurd about all of this - Akira had cut his hair - that he can't help but give into quiet laughter. He can't stop - his laughter fills the room, and Akira's small smirk fills into a wider smile, and somehow the world doesn't end.

This is one thing that seems to never change, despite all the time he's known Akira.

Unpredictable. Just as always.

Chapter Text

After Akechi had met Akira, had listened to the Phantom Thieves' stories and feats, of their successful heists and the genuine admiration, there had always been a wish in his mind. As he returned to his own monitored apartment, carefully maintaining his mask as he prepared for sleep. As he planned the week ahead, wondering how to manoeuvre the Thieves, contacting agents to make sure everything was perfectly in place. As he took calls from Shido, as he tried to shake off the moments of tiredness in-between moments of rage, as he planned his own self-destruction alongside a shot to Shido's head.

If only he had met Akira sooner.

If only he had met Akira sooner.

If only.

Would Akira have worked his magic on an empty person like Akechi too? Found Akechi when he was still just a normal kid with no powers, putting on a fake mask to please the teachers, to be unreachable to bullies, trying his hardest to claw himself out of the pit that society had dug for him by his sheer birth?

Pulled him from an exploitative parent like Yusuke, saved him from society's apathy against abuse like Futaba, built self-worth with him like Makoto, given purpose like Ryuji? Would he have accompanied Akechi after their world shattered like Haru, and forged a path to heal together like Ann?

Perhaps. He could see it, another, less cynical, less resigned Akechi who stood by the Phantom Thieves to denounce Shido.

And perhaps, in those last moments, Akira saw it too.

The keen possibility of it kept Akechi stay up some nights, his mind wandering the what-ifs of an alternate universe even as he woke up to continue forging forward. He wasn't one to dig a grave and not lay in it.

But it was enough for Akechi to stand one night in front of Akira, words stuck in his throat.

Would you leave the Phantom Thieves and join me?

Akira, head tilted in confusion, surrounded by millions of glimmering neon lights after rain. Crowds passing them by, the ocean of faceless strangers in Shibuya night-time. The hubbub of the crowd washed away his thought half-formed, and Akechi let the moment pass.

Perhaps it would be better to never ask so that he never hears the answer.

Perhaps, as no matter the answer, he would be disappointed.

"I had a lovely time today, Akira," he smiled instead, and Akira's face smoothed out. There's a quirky kindness in his returning smile, his face lit in the mottle of multi-coloured lights.

"Me too. Don't be a stranger, Akechi."

"If my schedule permits, I would be more than happy to join you again soon," Akechi replied with a rueful laugh, and they part. It was nearly time to invade Sae's palace. Something in Akechi's chest felt suffocated as he watched Akira leave, still unknowing of everything.

He stood there that night for a long time.

Akira has always been more expressive through his body language than the words he speaks.

Thoughtfulness was expressed through a slight furrow to his brow, a dip to his head to indicate he's listening seriously. When standing, he tended to slip his hands in his pockets, head cocked to the side as he paid attention to whatever had caught his interest, and that focus was usually unwavering until the object had finished whatever it was doing.

Sometimes it was watching Morgana eat his sushi, patting him on the head when he started complaining about fish to rice ratio. Sometimes it was watching Futaba schooling Yusuke in the ways of popular culture with a small smile. Sometimes his eyes, behind the sheen of his glasses, would observe Akechi as he shared his viewpoints on self, justice, consent and morality in the context of society, chewing on the information, already formulating his own response.

Unlike Akechi's carefully maintained posture, Akira was always slouching somehow, in a way that showed he was comfortable in his own skin.

It had been another point of envy for Akechi, that Akira's movements were based on such confidence. Masks sometimes stretched thin on his own face, and his patience was often worn down so much that his hand sometimes cramped from how hard he was holding his attaché case.

It's strange, Akechi thinks as he dutifully assisted Takaki with recording the conversation, that Akira didn't spark any traumatised flashback of murder, of either Akira or himself. Instead, while Akira was interviewed (amazing Akechi when he spoke more than three sentences at once), all Akira's voice sparks is a general sense of nostalgia.

Although Akira was much more awkward than he remembered, the mannerisms were all still there.

"Thanks, Kurusu-kun," Takaki exclaims now, boisterous as always as he gets up with the records and papers and gives Akira a big grin. "Would you mind if we contact you again if we have any further questions?"

Akira shakes his head. "I don't mind."

Takaki nods and waves at Akechi. "I have to process these; can you accompany Kurusu-kun to the entrance? Come back here after."

When Akechi acquiesces, Takaki leaves the room with a cheerful air and Akechi turns his smile to Akira. "Thank you for your patience today, Kurusu-kun," Akechi bows slightly. "You've given us much of your precious weekend for us, and you deserve our gratitude."

Akira slightly shifts his shoulders in a half shrug, eyes still trained on Akechi. Akechi had always had the opposite problem, smiling, nodding, glancing away, deflecting until necessary. It's hard to stop a fidget crawling up his spine as he waits patiently for Akira's answer. It's obviously building there, at the tip of the tongue as Akira ruminates how to word it.

"It's the right thing to do," Akira ultimately says.

His quiet reply only brings Akechi's smile closer to the surface.

"And that's what admirable, Kurusu-kun," Akechi says, genuine, before leading off into soft laughter. "I won't take more of your time. Let's go."

He finds himself talking about appropriate food places, a topic that he had prepared beforehand last night to avoid the mortifying situation from yesterday. "Do you have any recommendations, Kurusu-kun?" He asks now, tilting his head slightly to the side.

"There's a bakery around the corner that's pretty good," Akira says, pointing to a vague direction on the right. "They have a lunch special right now too, so if you want to catch it make sure you get there before three."

"Alright, I'll check it out," Akechi says, and Akira responds with a flash of a small smile.

Bright sunshine hits their faces the moment they step outside, and Akira squints against it.

"…This was easier when I had my hair."

Akechi raises a hand to his mouth to cover a small laugh. "Your hairstylist did a good job," he compliments as they linger at the entrance.

"Expected something more hideous under it?" Akira asks, a tilt to his mouth, and Akechi shakes his head with a fond smile.

"Of course not. You're—" He pauses when he meets Akira's grey eyes. "Hm, fishing for compliments, are you? That's awfully familiar of you, Kurusu-kun."

"Am I?" Akira asks back before he glances backwards. "It seems like they're calling for you. Thanks for leading me out, Detective-kun."

And just like that Akira heads down the road, hands in his pockets and pace a lazy saunter. Akechi watches him go, feeling a little suffocated as he struggles to call him back and find a reason to connect. Even after a night of ruminating, he still didn't know how to make Akira stay, or leave his contact details in the capacity of a friend. As Takaki said, after all, he was still a witness, and it was his duty until at least the case was over to keep a professional distance.

Perhaps, in a way, he had always imagined Akira to be the one reaching out to him than the other way around.

Akechi stands there for a second longer before turning back inside, giving a polite nod to the receptionist as he passes them.

Trying to connect to people is hard, he complains to the ever-present presence of Minato in his mind, and Minato just gives him a commiserating shrug.

"We got a basic profile picture now, Akechi-kun," Takaki says with a large grin when he gets back. "Don't you remember that old guy we interviewed yesterday, who said someone young visited Shibata once? I want to go back and ask if any of his memories match these profiles."

Akechi nods, pulling out their notes from yesterday.

"The man was called Genji Watase, a part of Shibata's mah-jong club. They've been casual acquaintances for the past seven years and lived in Flat 302. Are we heading out now?"

"Yep," Takaki says, hefting a small bag onto his bag. "No time like the present!"

Winding the path back to Akira's apartment block, Genji opens his door with a squint. The old man is hunched after years of labour, but his humour is generally affable as he invited them into his home again. Spindly fingers and hard-worn callouses shakily prepare tea until Akechi firmly takes the teapot from his hands and pours them all a cup.

"Since you just came in yesterday," Genji says as he closes his hands over his ceramic cup for warmth even on a summer's day, "I guess you found something new?"

"Yes, Watase-san," Takaki says sincerely, pushing the two profiles of the men Akira described over, as well as a text transcript of his description over the table with two hands. "We found a man who saw Shibata-san before he disappeared with these two men. As you've mentioned that someone visited Shibata-san before, we wished to know if it was these two?"

"You're testing an old man's memory here," Genji jokes as he pulls the two portraits close and squints at them. He glances at both of them, before shaking his head at the first one.

"I don't know who this is, but the other one seems familiar." Genji points to the small star-shaped scar on one man's face, before faltering. "It's impossible though, aha, just an old man's nostalgia…"

"Anything and everything helps," Takaki smiles. "Genji-san, if you've thought of something, please don't hold back."

"Alright," Genji sighs, taking a sip of his tea and staring down at his cup, looking small and withered. It's obvious just with a glimpse around his apartment that this man has been abandoned by his family – although there are a few family photos of a younger Genji and his wife with a few children, there are none with his adult children except one, where a photo of a wedding sits in the middle.

Right next to this is a small shrine with the photo of his wife in it, lovingly preserved and a bowl of fresh rice in front. The calendar is marked with events – sales at the market, mah-jong night every Tuesday and Friday, but there are none indicating visits.

It's a small apartment with only an old futon and an aged TV in the room over, the only source of entertainment he could see. Akechi has seen scenes like this many times over, where the turmoil and growing economy after the war had forced many fathers away from their families to find work, leaving them to grow estranged and distanced from children who didn't care for a figure who only ever sent them monthly cheques throughout their lives.

Now in retirement, this man has nothing to live for except waiting for death, perhaps, too scared to disrupt their children's lives with his own poverty and circumstances. Thinking himself as shameful, with no worth to provide to his family. Akechi's mind thinks back to his own mother, killing herself because of a mix of shame and despair.

So many in the world who took such irreplaceable care as inconvenient trash. Akechi keeps his face placid as he pours the man another cup of tea.

Genji gives him a small surprised smile as he lifts the full cup, dark wrinkled face crinkling up into familiar, deep-set lines.

"Well, that scar looks very familiar, because it was a famous story back some years ago," Genji says. "Small Yahiro-kun from a block over had an accident when he was playing baseball. The ball hit him right there, on the forehead, and everyone thought he was a goner for sure. But he came out of hospital no worse for wear, except now he had a strangely shaped scar to show for it."

"Yahiro, is it?" Takaki nods readily. "Where can I find him?"

"That's the thing," Genji says. "He died a few years ago. I even attended his funeral, so isn't it an impossible story?"

Akechi and Takaki glance at each other.

"The Yahiro family moved out after their family tragedy to somewhere in Tokyo," Takaki is reporting to Atsuzawa at the station, "and we visited the cemetery afterwards. There was a grave indicating a seventeen-year-old Morio Yahiro did die. We looked at the family registry, and he's marked at deceased."

"Scars like this are very rare though," Atsuzawa says, leaning back into his chair with his legs crossed and face creased. "We'll have to look further into this. Faking death isn't that hard when you have certain contacts. Akechi, do you have anything you want to add?"

"I was just wondering where Shibata was delivering his drugs. He said his store was part of a franchise?"

"Ah, yeah, that," Atsuzawa sighed. "That franchise thing was a lie, by the way. I was searching that, amongst other stuff. Shibata seemed pretty prone to lying about this and that to make himself look better. When we looked at his delivery records, all he did was send his goods to some unaffiliated warehouse. Several companies rent that warehouse throughout the year, so we still need to search through all of those…"

He groaned. "Right when we needed it most, that old man cuts our budget. I swear, the things he does sometimes makes no sense."

"It's alright, Atsuzawa-san! We'll get through this, no problem!" Takaki encourages, his large frame slapping Atsuzawa on the back, and the thinner man winces.

"Mind your muscles, Takaki."

"Yes, sir!" Takaki salutes, and Atsuzawa's sour face breaks into a small smirk.

"Now make yourself useful and buy me a black coffee. What do you want, Akechi?"

"A cappuccino would be nice."

"Alright, leave it to me!" Takaki beams, stretching his spine as he gets up, heading to the door. "I'll be back in a jiffy!"

Akechi watches Atsuzawa's face gain a small devious look, and he asks slowly, "Is Takaki-san still buying you coffee with his own money?"

Atsuzawa winks, bringing a long thin finger to his lips. His foot taps the floor in a happy rhythm.

"Shhh, don't tell him now."

They work throughout the afternoon – Akechi's transcribing Atsuzawa's interviews again, and it takes hours off the day while Atsuzawa himself now goes through social security and civilian records that are normally barred for access trying to track down the Yahiro family, and applying for permissions to search certain areas. Takaki has been sent out to do more groundwork, and the rest of the time it's silent between the two as the sun behind the slat-shades starts to dip.

"Isn't this a pain," Atsuzawa groans as it hits five, finally closing his laptop and near dripping off his chair with a slow slide downwards. Somewhere during the middle of the afternoon, the air conditioning had slowly failed to beat the heat, and now the room had an uncomfortable muggy air. "Is the life of a detective fulfilling your dreams, kid?"

Akechi puts down his headphones and finishes typing his last sentence.

"I didn't have any glamorous notions in the first place, Atsuzawa-san," Akechi replies.

Even back when he was just faking the leads to various mental breakdowns, the paper trails that he had to plant had been immense. For real investigations, being next to Sae as a prosecutor, there had been less fieldwork and more trawling through case after case after case, reading stacks of paperwork, and even then it had been gruelling work.

Now with Atsuzawa, he's on the side of creating the evidence and tracking down the culprit instead of arguing for prosecution, that's all.

"Good, you're not put off by all of this yet," Atsuzawa smiles, laughing. "I was scared of that. Want to buy us some dinner? I'll reimburse the costs, don't worry. Buy anything that we can eat on the train back, we'll be leaving Takaki here. You need to get back to Tokyo to get some good sleep. You got school tomorrow, right?" Atsuzawa's lips twitch. "Heh. School. What a blast from the past. I'm so glad I don't ever have to go back there. Sucks to be you, kid."

"School isn't that bad, Atsuzawa-san," Akechi replies, even though it does honestly feel a little strange to go back to school's bubble of mundanity after two whole days of the detective work he's always dreamed of. To go back to the gossip of his peers seems…

He doesn't think more of it, and Akechi gets up from his seat with a wave, which is rather rude, but all Atsuzawa does is grunt as he lays his head on the table to catch a nap.

Akechi honestly knows nothing about this town and the eateries that are available except the bakery that Akira mentioned all the way back in the morning. So he heads right, continuing towards the bakery he spots a little farther down the road.

He's a little disheartened to realise that the local shop was already preparing to close, with only a blurry shadow of a lone worker inside stacking chairs and wiping down tables through the dark glass. Akechi might be a little too used to the times shops closed and opened in Tokyo (though it makes sense, perhaps, that a bakery closes by five), and he's about to turn around and boot up his phone when the door jingles cheerily.

"Hey, Detective-kun. Didn't I tell you to come before three?"

Akechi's fingers freeze as his gaze darts up.

Akira's small smile greets him, holding the door open by one hand and letting cool air slither out. He's dressed in a waiter's apron over the same ragged t-shirt and jeans, and the small sense of frustration he's maintained all day lifts when he sees Akira's face. Akechi responds with his own, wider smile, not bothering to hide his surprise.

"Kurusu-kun! I didn't expect you here!"

Akira waves Akechi inside the bakery, switching back on some low lights in the shop as Akechi breathes in the smell of bread, sweets and some sort of meat.

"I must have forgotten to tell you," Akira says lightly as he passes him, picking up the disinfectant and cleaning cloth and putting it back on the counter as he stands there, eyes twinkling with mischief. "I work here. Though I wasn't lying when I said that the bread here is pretty good."

"Akechi, please call me Akechi. I'm not truly a detective yet," Akechi replies, taking a few steps around to the bread displays that haven't been packed away yet.

"Okay, Akechi," Akira says, straight up ignoring the polite suffix. Akechi honestly isn't prepared for the wave of nostalgia that it brings.

Emotions are irrational, he chides himself as he turns to collect a small tray of some sort of cheese bun. In the end, he fills the tray up with all kinds of bread – it doesn't matter how much he gets if Atsuzawa is going to get it reimbursed, and he could probably save some for tomorrow's breakfast.

"Do you bake as well?" Akechi asks when he arrives at the counter where Akira has been slouching against, watching him. He finds himself strangely invested in these small facts that no-one knew about Akira.

Did he ever mention that he worked at a small bakery before? Sojiro only ever served curry, rice and coffee, which is admittedly a strange combination. No bread, though. If he could bake, why never mention it?

"No," Akira shakes his head. "I only help out here casually. The owner is a family friend." His movements are efficient as he checks the bread out, putting all of it into a small bag. Then he pauses, before reaching to the side and putting a small box of cookies in the bag as well.

"Try these. Tell me what you think next time."

"I don't know when next time will be," Akechi replies ruefully, handing over the cash and preparing to take the bag. "I've only come here this weekend because of my internship to help with the investigation."

Akira tilts his head at that, stuffing another box of cookies inside the already bulging bag before offering it to him with no explanation at all. Akechi stares at the overstuffed bag with a small sense of exasperation. He honestly never does know what Akira is thinking. He takes the bag with a smile of appreciation, nonetheless.

"Thank you. If I ever come here again, I'll be sure to visit the bakery a little sooner."

Akira nods seriously. "You better. I'll even try baking something, next time."

Thinking back to how delicious some of the curries Akira cooked were when he tried, Akechi flashes his friendliest smile. The ones the photographers always told him to use whenever he had magazine coverage.

"I'll look forward to it, Kurusu-kun."

Akira blinks at him, before dipping his head down to hide behind a fringe he no longer has.

"…It's a promise."

In the quiet moment where Akechi is trying to read Akira's body language to see what he's thinking, he's honestly unprepared when the voice comes. He expected it later – perhaps, when he 'accidentally' bumps into Akira during their first adventure with Kamoshida, or when they first delve into their infamous disagreements over the morality of changing someone's mind through cognitive manipulation.

But no, a gentle voice flows into his head, and Akira in front of him stills as Akechi's heart beats a little, perhaps, about what this means. Could mean.

The Fool again. The one who promises infinite possibilities.

When reality snaps back in, Akechi can't help but feel fondness as he looks at Akira in front of him.

Perhaps their meeting didn't fulfil the expectations he had in mind. Akechi isn't a Detective Prince of his own making yet, and Akira isn't the Phantom Thief he would be, confident, suave, and their powerful, indomitable leader crusading through the evils of society. He's not yet the man who would save those who couldn't be saved, and Akechi's previous dreams of Akira swooping into his life and saving him like all the others are probably impractical, at best.

Akira had his own life, after all, before his unjust probation.

But even so, perhaps this is yet another step to the future Akechi is trying to achieve. Perhaps Akira couldn't be the one to make the first move now, to be the saving hand in the dark.

This time to make sense of opportunity, Akechi will need to reach back first.

Try living without rejecting the world, my friend.

Maybe this is what Minato meant when he asked him to look and reach out for himself. A true partnership wasn't a one-man-show, after all.

And Akechi was never only a victim now, was he?

"Goodbye, Kurusu-kun," Akechi says now as he opens the door to leave with one last glance back at Akira behind the counter. Akira's expression is as calm and inscrutable as always as he nods back at Akechi.

He engraves the name Violet's Bakery into his memory as he walks down the pathway back to the police station, where he shows the large bag of pastries to Atsuzawa, who had already packed up and gestured for Akechi to do the same.

They leave the police station at a jog to catch the train back to Tokyo on time, the orange sunset glaring into their eyes as they settle into their seats. Akechi munches on the cookies Akira gave on the train ride back, the creaking metal seats gleaming with worn, scuffed shine on the empty train late afternoon. Outside, the lights of the town soon fade into the encroaching darkness, with the brief flash of a countryside house still awake.

Throughout the trip, Atsuzawa had been tapping away at his laptop, eating through their stash of bread as well. He leans back with a sigh when the train announces that they're nearing Tokyo.

"Kid, you don't have any after school clubs? We can accommodate, but it'll be rough."

"No, Atsuzawa-san. School finishes by four, so I can be at Headquarters by four-thirty on weekdays."

"Good, I'll get Naho to greet you tomorrow and I'll be there to lead you through some of the investigations we'll be doing. I'll have to double-check them first, to make sure they're not dangerous when we go."

Akechi blinks, before laughing politely. "Atsuzawa-san, you don't need to worry so much. I can take care of myself."

"Nah, kid. It's not that I don't believe in you," Atsuzawa says, reaching over to ruffle Akechi's hair again. He bears it with stoic silence, and Atsuzawa's grin is shit-eating, as if he's seen through Akechi's polite façade. "Takaki gave you stunning reviews, and you've only been professional and diligent in every task I've given you, so if you say you can handle yourself I'll believe it."

"But," Atsuzawa continues in that dry rasp of his – he'd probably smoked when Akechi was buying bread – "is that no matter how amazing you are, it's my job to keep you safe, got it? You're great, but you're still just an amazing kid, and so it's doubly my job to make sure you get taken care of, a'ight? I can see an amazing detective in you one day, and it's my job to get you there."

Akechi honestly doesn't know what to say. Atsuzawa seems to sense that with a small frown.

"Oi, I know you're emancipated and all so you're more independent than most kids, but aren't you like, fifteen?"

"Sixteen since the start of June," Akechi replies automatically, and Atsuzawa rolls his eyes.

"Yeah, basically a baby. Kid, I don't know what happened to you and it's frankly not my business to pry, but under my watch, in my division, safety comes first. Got it?"

"Got it," Akechi echoes, and distracts himself by eating a large bite into the sausage bun he has in his hands. It's oily and satisfying, and his shaking fingertips are easily hidden by pressing into the bun a little harder.

Atsuzawa himself has bitten into his own custard bun with satisfaction. "Oh, these are good. Where did you buy them from again? That bakery down the street? I'll get Takaki to deliver some next time he comes back; he'll probably bring a whole bag and insist on treating everyone! That guy is amazing," and Akechi lets that low voice washes over him as he eats a custard bun next.

They are, indeed, quite tasty.

They arrive in Tokyo soon enough, and Atsuzawa seems to wilt a bit when he stares at Headquarters.

"Okay, back to work for me, and home for you. See you tomorrow, Akechi. Don't need to bring anything, just wear something neat and comfortable. It'll be a long day. You catch the train here, right? I'll get you added to the list so that your travel costs are covered. Ugh, so much work," Atsuzawa groans as he heaves his bag onto his back with one wiry arm and scratches the beard that had started appearing again.

"See you tomorrow, Atsuzawa-san," Akechi bows before joining the crowds of Tokyo. The world is yet again a wash of neon lights and late shoppers, and the familiar anonymity of it all gives him a strange reality check as he starts to wake up from the peaceful serenity the last few days has given him.

The familiar dust, pollution and laughing crowds, the familiar sense of Morrigan and Robin Hood back in his awareness, the Metaverse app again a prominent red on his phone.

There were two recent messages actually, but he waits until he gets back to his dorm before opening them.

Wakaba's message is just an excited mess.

[MadPscientist: !!!!!!!!!!]

[MadPscientist: okay dont be mad ok but i kinda entered the metaverse without you because i couldnt wait to try a hypothesis ok my brain was going nuts]

[MadPscientist: and it worked omg when are you free i'll show you but it has to be a little late because some stupid guy in my lab messed up my data and i have to fix it up]

He puts that on hold for now as he looks at the second message. It's a text this time, and the name that flashes on the screen is one that makes Akechi narrow his eyes.

Change of plans. Meet up tomorrow.

GA: I will only be free perhaps after nine, is that alright?

After a short pause, there's a reply indicating that he should arrive by nine-thirty at the apartment they met up before again, and Akechi is honestly a little confused. Shido hated having him in his private space, normally, but he sends an affirmative anyway.

He schedules Wakaba the day after, before collapsing into bed after arranging the correct assignments and books into his bag for tomorrow.

He looks at the Arcanas in his mind with a sense of satisfaction, lingering on Akira's name, before falling to sleep.

Chapter Text

"Shido-sama is waiting for you in his study," the maid from before greets him again when he reaches Shido's fancy high rise at nine-thirty in the evening. She's wearing a maid uniform even scantier than before. Akechi politely averts his eyes as he steps inside, taking off his shoes and walking straight through towards the office.

Today had been a strange day on his patience. School had been the same recurring track – he needed to give a presentation on the state of Japan's economy during the 80s. By the teacher's pleased smile he wasn't worried about his marks. After school, he headed straight for the Police Headquarters. Atsuzawa kept his promise, greeting him after Maika, the receptionist, had rung him up and introduced him to Naho with the buzzing energy of a caffeine overdose.

"Tell me if you need anything," Naho Mitarai had said warmly, "I'll try my best to support you. God knows that some people who forget to take care of themselves need help with taking care of others, hmm?"

"Oi," Atsuzawa scowled standing to the side hunched over with his hands in his pockets, looking more like a thug than a detective. "I can totally look after my intern."

"Oh really?"

Akechi had stood to the side as he let the two play out their act, smiling all the while until there was a pause to interject. He bowed. "I'm glad to meet you, Mitarai-san."

Naho had beamed behind her thick glasses before waving the two down to their office. There, Akechi had joined Atsuzawa in matching rental dates with Hideki Shibata's deliveries. So far, despite the various companies that used the rental warehouses, no trends were popping up.

"My eyes, they burn," Atsuzawa was groaning as he crossed out another month of records, reading lights switched on despite the daylight. "You hanging in there okay?"

"I'm good, Atsuzawa-san," Akechi replied, before letting himself slip back into silence to let Atsuzawa's ramble continue. He liked mumbling to himself, but also sometimes to Akechi, and he learned that Atsuzawa hated pickles, and had two dogs in his apartment. One was called Momo, and the other was called Pochi, and he doesn't know if he regrets letting his niece name them or not.

Other tiny details passed by as Akechi crossed out line after line until eight-thirty, where Atsuzawa clapped him on the back.

"Good going, Akechi. We got through more than I thought we would. See you tomorrow?"

"Of course, Atsuzawa-san," Akechi replied, and he packed up quietly. He leaves the man under his little puddle of light, scratching his head trying to find the link that 'I know is there, call it a hunch'.

After a light dinner, he now stands in front of Shido's large desk. Shido is sitting down, one leg rested on the other as he peers through his dark glasses at him.

"Akechi," he greets. "I've heard you got an internship under an SIU?"

"Yes, Shido-san," Akechi replies. "Under Atsuzawa-san in the Special Investigation's Unit for Organised Crime."

Shido laughs harshly. "What irony, that his newest intern is an agent under the very person he'd like to catch the most. Tell me. What are you doing?"

Akechi reports, scarce on details but with enough fluff to seem substantial, highlighting they're going nowhere currently.

"You understand," Shido says after he's finished, "that your new obligations should not take precedence over our own cooperation… yes?"

"Of course, Shido-san. Only a fool wouldn't take the Metaverse and its potentials seriously," Akechi states. The bait is there in his reply. A question. Why did Shido call him here today?

"Yes. And we aren't fools now, are we?" Shido asks, leaning forward.

Akechi shakes his head. "Of course not, Shido-san."

"I've been generous, Akechi," Shido says, his voice low and smooth, pitched as if he was on television playing the role of a determined, charismatic leader to his one-man audience. "But as you know, things given freely can also be easily taken away." He taps a finger against his desk, sharp raps that intentionally jar the atmosphere, forcing Akechi's undivided attention. "Although our contract says that I only expected you to cooperate with experiments, I would've thought it also implied that you produce actionable results. Don't you agree?"

"…Of course I do, Shido-san."

"Now that we're two months in, it's really not too much of a stretch to expect that you know how to find a particular individual's Shadow by the end of the week."

Shido's smile is the one he used when he was in front of his party right before the election. By then, Akechi had gone through his rounds and collected dirt on every single one of them. He had turned even the most half-hearted into fervid supporters of Shido's cause. Shadows don't lie, after all. Any suspicion on Shido's part would be easily detected by a simple visit from Akechi and a question.

"Are you unhappy with Shido?"

In his smile is his underlying threat to take away everything that he has ever provided him.

And Akechi can only wish to say he does not care about the warm rose pink of his dorm room when he steps in at the end of the day, the small cactus on his windowsill that snags now and then on his curtains. His tentative start at a book collection. The cheerful faces of Saito-san and the benign dorm-mates that are beginning to become familiar in the morning instead of hasty retreats out of a foster home, the independence of not needing to worry about being held back because one of his parents didn't feel like providing a signature.

The thought of going back to his orphan Institute filled with desperate, lonely children who didn't know how to function outside the rules set for them is suffocating.

But he can't let the yawning emptiness of that thought show.

Because if he did, he knows. Shido will sink his teeth into it and never let go. Every single task would be prefaced with the same threat, to take away the things he is learning to like. He had predicted this – it has all happened before, after all.

So this is all he does.

"I'll try my best, Shido-san. In the event that I fail, should I return the credit card until I succeed?"

Akechi tilts his head, friendly. His smile is natural, even if his eyes are just as cold as his father's.

I do not care, he lies.

Shido blinks slowly.

"That's what we will do then," Shido says, and Akechi does not do anything except nod agreeably. "Send me word of your success by Friday and we'll proceed with our cooperation."

It's with a warm tone that he continues.

"Don't you agree, Akechi," Shido says, his smile deceptively gentle as he rested his chin on his steepled hands. "That agreements are only useful when you have the power to enforce them?"

Akechi's smile is just as warm.

"Yes, Shido-san," he replies. "I agree."

He leaves after a few more banal exchanges. They both keep watching, keep holding their cards close to their chest, and Akechi leaves with his head held high, his polite smile intact. He calmly collects his coat from the maid and does not try to heave in breaths until he's two streets down.

He returns to his dorm and stops right at the doorway when he opens it.

His curtains are closed, the tiny cactus on the windowsill a splotch of green against the yellow fabric. A desk filled with homework and books, and a bed with the blankets he had bought only last week, folded neatly in the morning.

Tentatively, home.

He hangs his jacket carefully, placing his shoes neatly side by side as he steps into his apartment. The air is slightly stale from a whole day being shut, but the smell isn't unpleasant – it's the scent of dried clothes and the slight plastic smell of textbooks, and Akechi breathes this in.

He falls asleep, plans already in place.

He does nothing special the next day now that he's sure that Shido has sent someone to monitor him. He smiles through school, offers homework help to the most visible members in class who need it, before heading off to his internship. They do the same thing as yesterday, only now they've moved on to employee lists, and the both of them sort through pages of lists munching on some cookies that Naho baked.

"Thank you," Akechi said when she offered, and Naho's happy smile abruptly stopped when Atsuzawa grumbled, 'Food? You worry too much, Naho.'

Naho had whacked the man on the back of his head and moved all her cookies to Akechi's table in retaliation. Akechi gladly hogged them for a while - the cookies were a little burnt on the sides and a bit chewy in the centre, but they weren't overly sweet. It made the few hours in the office even more pleasant as he unwinded with the monotonous work. It's sooner than he would like when its eight-thirty again, and Atsuzawa is clapping him on his back.

"Thanks for your hard work, kid. See you tomorrow?"

"Of course, Atsuzawa-san."

This time he meets Wakaba in the same place in the Metaverse.

The woman has a smile a mile wide. "Brat, you're late!" She says in lieu of a greeting, and Akechi tries hard not to roll his eyes.

"Ishikki-san. If you take a glance down at your watch, you'll find that you're the one that's early," Akechi replies pleasantly. She does, squinting down at it before obviously dismissing the whole issue.

"Bah, whatever. Let's go!"

Wakaba is still in her lab-coat, her backpack just as large as last time. This time she's the one who leads, having typed a name into her own app.

To his surprise, Wakaba leads him down deeper than expected. Robin Hood slays every Shadow they meet easily, Wakaba still ever wide-eyed seeing the admittedly flashy attacks of a Persona. She doesn't ask this time, averting her eyes as she talks about other things.

"So my daughter tried cooking for me today," Wakaba chatters as they continue onwards on foot, "but she forgot about the stove to finish a level on her game and she burnt the water! I love her, but that girl, honestly!" Akechi tucks the strand of information that Futaba Ishikki is an inept cook in his mind as they wander deeper into the tunnels. Wakaba's headlight lights up the gloom in front of them as they traverse through the eerie silence of the Metaverse together. Sometimes there's the sound of something dripping down the walls, but whenever Wakaba turns to try and find the source to collect it, the walls are always dry.

"Perhaps it's just the shared cognition that tunnels are leaky, Ishikki-san," Akechi states, and Wakaba wrinkles her face.

"That's such an unsatisfying answer," Wakaba complains and stops examining the corner she had been anticipating holding water the most. "Imagine what I could do if I could collect some Metaverse water! Whether it comes from the sewage of humanity's consciousness or not, there are so many things I can try out with it!"

Akechi's already wrinkled his nose slightly at the mention of Mementos as the 'sewage of humanity's consciousness'. She's not technically wrong, per se, but it does make Mementos diving much less like the clandestine superpowered double-life he had, somewhere in his heart, always seen it as.

"What things would you try?" Akechi asks as Wakaba takes point again.

"Even if I couldn't take it out to the real world with me, I could always try other stuff inside the Metaverse itself, right? Like, dissolving things in it, distilling it, making it something perhaps we could drink…"

There's a speculative glint in her eye when she says that, looking at Akechi, and he's suddenly very glad Metaverse Water is not something that exists in Mementos. In Palaces he's seen quite a few – fountains next to vaulting churches, rivers in deep subterraneous caves, moats next to fairy-tale castles. All of those held water that he'd never been interested in drinking from.

…Despite himself, he feels a little curious.

That is not a good idea, Morrigan says with amusement, and Akechi ditches the thought immediately. He isn't one to not listen to his Personas, who had only ever been loyal to him.

"What a shame," Wakaba is sighing now as they near the cracked walls of the Shadow Wakaba was leading them to. "Humanity's consciousness is so dark and gloomy. You'd think at least someone would imagine their shadowy self as an angel in the clouds or something. I have this narcissistic colleague who definitely thinks of herself like that…"

She leads them in, and Akechi blinks in surprise

"Ishikki-san," he says, bewildered. "Isn't that your Shadow?"

"Correct!"

"Was Kei Tanaka not enough for experimentation?" Akechi asks with a tinge of real concern, and Wakaba snorts.

"That molester? No, he's fine. I'm still doing a lot with him, that's not the point. There was something fascinating that I just needed to measure out myself!"

Wakaba's Shadow stands in the middle of the room, muttering as Shadows usually do. As Akechi draws nearer, he can hear a string of formulas and equations that come endlessly out of her mouth, and Akechi blinks.

"Oh yeah," Wakaba says with no concern at all that she's revealing what's probably her deepest concerns to Akechi, someone she's repeatedly stated was 'like a snake'. "That's the latest formula I created for a client to deepen cogitation and meditation. It's not something I'm very confident with, so I guess my subconscious is picking it up?"

She puts down her hefty bag and takes out a bunch of food.

"Check it out, Akechi!"

And she proceeds to stuff the whole bar of chocolate into her Shadows mouth. The Shadow is surprised for all of two seconds before chewing it down, swallowing, and returning straight back to muttering her equations. Wakaba stands in front of Akechi after that, looking supremely proud of herself.

"Shadows can eat! And not only that, real food. And not only that, look!"

Wakaba pulls out a chart and points to the list.

"So I'm tracking my blood sugar levels right – apart from what I normally eat, I fed a bunch of chocolate and sweets to my Shadow, and my real life blood sugar index has shot straight up!"

"…I hate to burst your bubble, Ishikki-san, but that doesn't particularly sound like a good thing," Akechi replies after he's scanned the chart. The high figure doesnt look very healthy. "Doesn't your family have a history of diabetes?"

"How the heck do you know— Oh whatever, keep being creepy. Yeah, I'll stop soon, but this is fascinating! I haven't fed myself any sweets at all this past week, and my blood sugar is so high. I've calculated, it's not as high as it would be if I ate it myself, but there's definitely an effect."

Wakaba laughs. "This has proved direct transference, Akechi! Do you know what this means?"

Akechi's mind turns.

"You don't have to invent a whole new way to make Shadows fall into a coma," he replies. "Just something more potent than usual."

"Yup!" Wakaba beams, her not caring about her lab-coat as she flops onto the floor to continue tinkering around. "I knew you were a smart boy. Chocolate?"

"No, thank you," Akechi replies, and Wakaba eats it herself.

"So yup, anaesthetics aren't my forte so I'll need to look it up, and I'll see if there are any Metaverse-specific things I can use to make it so that the sleep can continue without a constant hook-up to drugs. Because that's probably not what you want, right?"

There are monitoring instruments for comatose patients, induced or not, for a reason, and Akechi nods.

"Yes, I can't guarantee that I can be around to constantly monitor their health, but I don't want to risk death. I was hoping, since Shadows are so intertwined with our actual selves, if we can shut down the Shadows, then the actual person would fall to sleep until the Shadow wakes up. Make the Shadow the cause, so nothing done to the person in the Real World can effectively cure it."

Only then, perhaps, can this strategy be guaranteed as insurance.

Wakaba is looking at him with unblinking eyes, a look so familiar that Akechi has to momentarily settle himself that the darkness around them does not hold the million blinking lights of a universe. They are not breathing the cold air of death. Her eyes are brown, not blue.

"You're providing a lot more detail this time, secretive boy," Wakaba goes back to what she's doing with a nonchalance that's only slightly faked. "You should be glad I don't believe you're a bad guy, or I would be seriously doubting your motives."

"You probably shouldn't trust me so easily, Ishikki-san," Akechi says, leaning again on the wall, and Wakaba shrugs.

"When did I say I trusted you?"

There's a silence then, for the next few hours, as Wakaba's mutters join her Shadow's as she continues her experimentation. Akechi does the same as last time – clearing out the Shadows in the area before settling himself back inside as he reviews homework. There's a social studies assignment he can't finish yet, but the rest he finds he can start finishing on his phone.

It's when Wakaba is dusting her hands off as she hauls her backpack up again that Wakaba's Shadow pauses her muttering, facing the two with her blazing yellow eyes and black smoking skin. Akechi is ready to go, fully intending to lead them out when the Shadow's voice rings out.

"I wonder," the Shadow says, for the first time, staring straight at Wakaba. "I wonder if I'm a good mother?"

Wakaba stills.

"I wonder if Futaba feels lonely when I forget to cook her dinner," the Shadow continues. "We get takeout, but she's always said she likes my cooking."

Akechi glances next to him. Wakaba is looking down, face blank.

"I wonder if Sojiro will ever stop waiting for an indecisive woman like me. Good for science and nothing else, as mama always said. Never understood humans enough. You're a single mother for a reason, aren't you? Who knows if their smiles are real or not by now—"

"Okay, that's enough!" Wakaba yells, pushing Akechi out the room and marching them down the corridors towards the station exit. The Shadow's words fade to silence. "Pretend you never heard that, okay?" She asks, and Akechi isn't inconsiderate enough to push such sensitive matters.

"Message me when you have any more breakthroughs, or if you need to delve deeper into Mementos, Ishikki-san," he says instead to divert the conversation.

"Alright, Akechi. Good night," Wakaba says with fake cheer before quickly exiting the Metaverse.

Indeed, Akechi had never given much thought about Wakaba's status as a single mother. It didn't seem like it had mattered to her, as she looks the type that had gotten over society's stigma. She lives a life where she demonstrates she's proud of her independence, where other's judgements do not touch her.

Ah, Akechi thinks as he's wandering the streets back home, but it's never that easy now, is it?

His own experiences flash through his mind, and Akechi twists the bitterness out of his smile when he buys his dinner at the convenience store.

Masks up, until he's identified whoever Shido has hired to monitor him.

The week passes – he exchanges insights with Wakaba whenever needed, and when Friday comes he counts the money he's saved up and sends the message.

Apologies, Shido-san. I couldn't find a way to find an individual's Shadow yet. I will send updates the moment I do so.

He tries Shido's card on Saturday. It's frozen, as he expected.

Akechi comes out of the ATM glad that he's already paid his rent for the next three months upfront. He won't drag this out for too long – he has food that's good until mid-July, so he'll probably message that he found the way around then.

That's a week and a half away. He'll plan his performance well.

As the next week turns over, he makes it obvious the dorm room is empty more and more often by opening his curtains a crack with the lights off. He does delve into Mementos more to work with Morrigan, but he's determined to make this act not one of desperation.

He is not desperate, and he is not falling apart. It's just another mission that's taking an unexpectedly long time, and Goro Akechi's public persona is taking that with a resigned grace. He's working harder despite his obligations with school and his internship, but ultimately this is so he can continue living comfortably. He doesn't want to lose it, but it's not something Goro Akechi will lose his head over in panic at the prospect of losing.

This Akechi is confident he can just win it back again after proving himself.

Shido takes this report with a contemplative frown, turning the paper over and over in his hands.

It seems that taking away his material benefits is an effective threat, but not the one he could use rope Akechi to his side permanently. He crossed out utilising greed as an effective strategy. A shame – this would've been the easy path.

Revenge and affection it is, then. His original plan.

"Ai-chan, come in," he says, and the maid he's been favouring for the past few months enters.

"What do you need, Shido-sama?" She says sweetly, and Shido finds himself appreciating her curves. Younger girls were definitely more tender.

"I have a private business meeting soon," he says, curling his finger for her to approach closer. He lets her sit on his lap, and he strokes her thigh. He rests them there, letting his cold fingers warm from her bare skin. This girl always had smooth skin, hairless from his request. "Do you want to come with me as my partner? I'll give the usual bonus."

"I would be honoured, Shido-sama!" The maid smiles and flatters. "Thank you so much!"

He smiles down at her, follows the bow of her sweet smile, the curve of her cheek.

What a shame.

It's the middle of July when Akechi finally stops acting.

I've found a way to find specific Shadows, Shido-san.

Good, the reply comes a little later in the afternoon. You'll find that I'm not an unreasonable man, Akechi. Open the attachment and do what it says. If you do this well, you'll find that you'll receive a suitable reward.

Inside is the name of the SIU Director and a list of questions.

Akechi sighs. the Director had been his very first interrogation the first time too, Shido keen to drag him to his side. It seems that no matter how hard he tried, he's only delayed the progression of Shido's Metaverse plans for a few weeks at most.

That night he returns with a plastic container filled with muffins that Naho had insisted he bring back home. He places it carefully in his small fridge before changing into something more comfortable than his uniform.

The SIU Director doesn't have a Palace yet, and his Shadow doesn't live too far down into Mementos – at least, not deep enough that he's barred access because he isn't recognised enough. He's just in a much larger room than normal, and the Shadow himself isn't much of a fight against Morrigan's curses. He's melted out of his fighting spirit back to being a normal Shadow soon enough, and the sight of the old man cowering in front of him didn't bring Akechi the satisfaction it did last time.

"W-what do you want?" the SIU Director gibbers. "You're not here because I'm rigging the trials, right? Public opinion is higher than ever – Japan loves having a justice system that will indict the evil of society! I'm not doing anything wrong! My records state that!"

Akechi scoffs. "And your records are rigged. You can share more about that later."

The logic of humans, sometimes. He always thinks someone is intelligent until he faces their Shadow, and the self-denying circular logic so many have plummets his estimations to the bottom level.

"I just need you to answer these questions, Director," Akechi smiles, his laser sword to the Shadow's neck. There's a sizzle, and the Director winces back in pain. "I assume you don't need to know what will happen if you refuse to answer."

The act of threatening Shadows fits as comfortably as an old glove, a familiar shift that makes him wish for the protection of Loki's helmet, the convenience of his quiet boots to prowl around a victim in darkness. Instead, Morrigan's spiked sabatons click against the flooring, the sharp metal gleaming with a slight red as he walks around the SIU Director, laser sword lazily circling around his neck. As his mindset sinks deeper, dusts out this rusted role, Robin Hood sends over a soft chirrup of sadness. Morrigan chides him.

This is strategy, you fool.

Indeed, it is. The better Akechi is at this the more, perhaps, his later negotiations will succeed.

"I'm curious, Director. How did you even get chosen to take this position in the first place, hmm?" Akechi starts, voice purposefully gentle. He's learnt quickly that people are more quickly disturbed by violence held by a calm face. Anger and bluster only breed gibbering fear, wasting time, while kindness is a force spat upon in the Metaverse. His persona is one of an iron hand in a silk glove, a person who could stab a person while never breaking his manners. He presents a man not afraid to use violence, who also hasn't let go of calm logic.

Who knows? If you answer his questions, perhaps he'll be pleased enough to spare your life.

The Director swallows when Akechi forces him to meet his eyes, before starting his stuttering answer.

This goes on long into the night.

Shido's reward is, for now, a substantial cheque. Akechi isn't one to not take advantage of what is freely given. At the soonest opportunity, he cashes it in and stashes it securely.

There's a break from Shido then, as nothing new comes from him except their past agreement. Shido sends him assignments to do and he does them. Sometimes it's new interrogations, and sometimes it's just another perspective on how to use the Metaverse.

It's a calm that Akechi didn't expect.

But there's not much he could do regarding Shido, so he tries his best to leave the suspicions in his heart as he greets the new day.

It's late July, and with Shido retracting his focus, he lets himself relax a little. He tends to school and keeps up his benign, nice image. Atsuzawa had been sent to investigate something in Hokkaido and was staying there for the time being, leading Akechi to report to Naho every day he's absent. She's a kindly supervisor who teaches Akechi the more day-to-day skills of police work, and Akechi finds his time filled with miscellaneous things.

He lets himself remember them, these small, tiny things. He hears a café play one of Minato's CDs as background noise near Headquarters so now he goes there for coffee refills, bobbing his head to the gentle jazz that curls around the comfortable corners of the café as he waits for his order. A classmate he's been casually tutoring shares a book that's a surprisingly good read. When he passes the florist in Shibuya, he's reminded of Akira's flowery-coffee scent after a shift at work.

He sometimes wonders how Akira is, a long train ride away.

Perhaps he relaxed too much, as it comes as a shock one weekend to realise that he's nearly late in handing in one of his assignments.

It's for Social Studies class, and the only reason why he hadn't been able to finish it two weeks ago was that it required him to interview someone about their attitudes towards Japanese society.

He had been meaning to interview someone in his department – Atsuzawa, maybe, if he could pin him down for more than ten minutes that didn't disturb a nap or intense case reading. Or Naho if she ever stopped tapping away at her phone. But it kept slipping his mind when he stepped into office.

Wandering down the steps with a vague plan in mind to find an old shopkeeper or two to ask for an interview, he's pleasantly surprised when he sees Saito locking up her office ready to leave.

Saito had never been anything but pleasant to Akechi, and she's a good a candidate as any.

"Saito-san!" He calls, and the old lady turns around with a smile.

"Oh, Akechi-kun. I hope everything is okay? Some boys up the floors were complaining about a plumbing problem."

"No, everything is fine, Saito-san," Akechi replies pleasantly. "I was just wondering if you were free for a brief interview, no more than a few minutes. It's for an assignment," he adds, and Saito laughs.

"Well, you are quite a bit more busy than many of our lodgers here. I just locked up my office, would you mind if we just sat outside?"

"Thank you for your kindness," Akechi says as they settle on the colourful seats in the lounge. Both Saito and himself sit straight out of politeness, and Akechi doesn't delay any further.

"This assignment is for a social studies class, and our goal is to ask a member of our community about what they think about the current state of our society. Saito-san, what do you think about our society right now?"

"That's quite a heavy question," Saito laughs, and Akechi joins her with a light chuckle.

"Indeed. My apologies for ambushing you with such a question when you were all ready to head out for home."

"It's fine, Akechi-kun. Let me arrange my thoughts a little. Society is such a big issue, and there are so many things inside that. Can you specify a little for me?" Saito gently queries.

"Then, how about your view of our culture?"

"Culture? You might find my opinions a little strange though…"

Akechi smiles. "It's fine, Saito-san. I value any opinions, and strange ones will only make it easier to write for."

"Alright then, Akechi-kun. Hmm…" They're both sitting with the glass doors of the entrance to their left, leaving the other side of their face in stark, dramatic profile. Saito is thinking deeply, and her small hands twisting into her sleeves.

"I think," she starts, "that the older I get, the more I realise just how many masks we put up to live."

Masks? Akechi can't help but pay a little more attention.

"It is our culture of amae that makes us hide so easily behind our masks," Saito says as she settles into the hunch of her back, staring out across the small foyer. "We value considering others over ourselves in society, to feel that to be accepted we have to guess the feelings of others in all our daily interactions and accommodate."

"Many of my friends often say the younger generation is selfish," she continues, eyes contemplative. "They see that many of our younger ones are obsessed with themselves, but I sometimes wonder if it isn't we who are selfish, who want to push our views and values on them who need to live and adapt to a world that's so different from our own."

She stops there, gathering her thoughts. "A different world?" Akechi prompts, and Saito nods.

"Yes, a different world. The matters I learnt and the matters you youngsters learn are so different now. I used to collect paraffin oil for our stove every Saturday with two cans in hand, singing a song down the countryside with my sister. Now that's all automatic, isn't it? What the young need to learn isn't where to find the cheapest oil, it's how to send online bills. It's…" Saito trails off, drooping a little.

"Maybe we are all just relics of the past," Saito says gently, waspish voice somewhat drowned by the loud chatter of a group of students entering the dorm and heading straight towards the elevator. Akechi tries to see what she sees, tracking her gaze across the floor. Youthful, vibrant energy – perhaps similar to her past, but different too, in their accessories, their slang, the way they walk and dress. Different values to a different world.

"That's perhaps how I see culture. It moves forward without needing the personal stories of those it feeds off. Perhaps all we need to see are trends that we fit ourselves next to so we don't feel lonely, not knowing that the nation won't care when you unstick yourself from a thing so much greater than yourself…"

Saito catches herself then, and she laughs with a little bit of embarrassment. "Oh dear, it seems like I slipped a few my own troubles alongside my answer. I apologise."

"It's fine, Saito-san," Akechi says, stopping the recording. "Although I don't wish to make light of your personal struggles, your answer is perfect for my assignment. Thank you very much for your time." Akechi bows.

Saito laughs. There's a bit of wistfulness in her eyes. "No, it was my pleasure to help. Good night, Akechi-kun."

A week later, the teacher smiles at him.

"A great insightful essay about the changing of the times and self-isolation, Akechi-kun. Good work."

"Thank you, sensei."

And the class moves on to environmental studies, and Akechi rereads his own assignment, wry twist to his lips before moving on himself.

This state of affairs lasts until the end of July.

Quiet. Too quiet.

Akechi lives his own life – greeting Saito and various peers as he leaves in the morning, working hard for Atsuzawa after school, and delving into the Metaverse to get blackmail on high-profile victims for Shido. One by one, Shido leashes public figures to his side to prepare for his Prime Ministerial campaign, Akechi quietly keeping all the information he finds in his own, private folder.

August dawns with the quiet before the storm.

Chapter Text

It's a memory, Akechi knows. He's lying down on one of Gekkoukan's seats, the white curve of it perfect for him to lay back and dangle his feet over the edge. He knows Minato is doing the same on the opposite bench, feet swinging. In this infinite parabola of stars, the only sound is silence and Minato's voice echoing in his mind.

It's strange to think that I can see so many more sides of my friends that I haven't lived, Minato was saying. Now that I am here, I see many more worlds that could have been that I am not particularly disturbed about. Akihiko makes a surprisingly sweet boyfriend. Mitsuru is as supportive as I expected towards a girl-version of myself as a leader. A Yukari that doesn't have a crush on me is a great time.

It's a strange topic, admittedly. Akechi imagines himself as a girl and only feels glad he isn't.

It's not that he is afraid of being a woman.

It's just that his clawing escape from his circumstances would have been infinitely harder. Akechi knows himself enough that it's in his very core to feel proud, to never stop reaching for something more. Watching doors close in Shido's traditional circles merely because of his gender would've crushed him into someone even more unrecognizably bitter than what he had become.

Besides, imagining himself being Shido's daughter is a horrifying prospect. He takes after his mother, an objectively beautiful woman. Knowing the low scruples Shido has, he's not one to enjoy testing the devil.

What I think of most is Shinjiro however, Minato continues. In all the versions that I am a male, he dies. But if I made the effort as a female, I could save him. Although it's just a month, although it is very hard… There are worlds where Shinjiro is saved.

Shinjiro Aragaki was one of the names that Minato had mentioned with regret. A figure that sacrificed his life for a child whose mother he accidentally killed.

He would've been my Moon Arcana, deeply insecure, so scared of himself. If I reached out and maxed out his arcana, then he would merely go to hospital and recover, rather than dying to save Ken.

"Are these arcanas so important?" Akechi asks, voice swallowed by the darkness.

Yes. The longer I stay, the longer I realise, Minato sighs. The arcana and the links you make to those who represent them – they are a miracle, as Igor says. A force that shifts fate itself.

However, instead of the inquisitive quip that Akechi remembers himself asking about Arcanas, suddenly, time freezes. His breath is caught in his chest.

Under his very eyes, the universe is a little darker and the stars that were only tiny pinpricks of light are starker, stronger. They seem to be reaching out to him, struggling, and the space lights up in a golden glow. Akechi looks over, head no longer encased in Loki's helmet, the bullet hole in his chest closed. He wears his neatly pressed uniform in front of Minato's slightly dishevelled one. Minato's form is glowing, and his eyes hold a rare alertness when his gaze meets Akechi's.

It is an abrupt realisation.

This is not a memory.

Minato's voice is strong in his mind, and his presence seems to swallow the air itself. But the moment Akechi moves, tries to reach a hand out to his friend, the whole illusion starts cracking at the edges. Minato's previously clear form blurs, the golden glow transforms into the shape of a door. There's a roar of something in the distance with the sound of clattering chains, and when Minato hears it he immediately fades, closing his eyes. The golden glow stops. The universe stops.

A void yawns, an emptiness that Akechi had never forgotten as he fell that time, fell into the dark abyss from a bullet hole wound that burnt his lungs like penance.

And Akechi wakes up.

That morning at school, Akechi finds himself staring at the torrential rain as he half-listens to the geography teacher. The drumming of raindrops on the roof is a loud backdrop to the comparatively soft voice of the teacher, and it provided a sense of isolation as he stared over the grey shadows of a rain-soaked Tokyo.

That dream.

No, he shouldn't kid himself. It wasn't a dream. It was a warning.

Akechi settles his head in his palm as his eyes tracked a roving black cloud. It moved slowly south, pouring its load over skyscrapers that touched its belly.

These past few months he has gathered information, a file for Shido and all his conspirators, picking at the edges of Shido's spiderweb of a network. He now has a decent folio of names and their potential roles that he can start building concrete evidence for.

This is all for his ultimate goal – using his second chance in a less foolish way to take down Shido, who is undoubtedly an important piece for the ultimate mastermind. All he has to do is avoid being embroiled in Shido's schemes until Akira arrives in his second year of high school. When Akira arrives, he can ingratiate himself into the Phantom Thieves, use his information to not just take down Shido but his whole conspiracy along with him. Then when the mastermind appears to save the situation, all he has to do is monitor Akira so he doesn't succumb to whatever appears, and then they can kill whoever it is together.

It's a simple plan discounting minutiae, and it's holding on well so far. That's probably not Minato is referring to.

Arcanas have the power to alter fate.

A miracle.

Akira, Atsuzawa and Wakaba – all three of his new Arcanas were in some way unexpected. Perhaps in some way, a miracle.

Barring Akira, who is still living a normal life, both Atsuzawa and Wakaba were welcome, but unexpected factors to his plans.

Atsuzawa had his political family, his position as the head of the SIU for Organised Crime, and his many personal achievements. Wakaba, with her ties with several interested metanormal-aware 'bigwigs' and her status as a leading researcher in cognitive pscience. Both have immense potential to challenge his status quo, and both were part of the few that Shido was wary of.

However, both Atsuzawa and Wakaba have latent problems.

Atsuzawa became an emotionally withdrawn investigator that rarely took large cases by the time that Akechi had become the Detective Prince, to the point that Akechi never even met him. From rumours, the cause could be a combination of a fatal accident and survivor's guilt.

Wakaba was self-explanatory. Akechi had killed her himself when Shido had deemed allowing her to further her research would hinder his future plans, one step faster than Wakaba's efforts to find evidence of Shido's crimes.

A flash of lightning. Thunder rolls in a few seconds later, startling the rest of the class. Akechi starts pretending to write his notes when the teacher turns around and examines the classroom. He finds himself doodling a small crow in the margins, beak opened comically wide as he continues to think.

Minato sent that specific memory for a reason. Shinjiro Aragaki died in all scenarios except in very specific conditions. Minato had to be female for the Arcana to initiate, had to reach out fervently enough to get his Arcana up to Rank 10 in the time limit of one month. In all other scenarios without exception, Shinjiro Aragaki is dead as fate intended.

Since Atsuzawa's case was currently going nowhere substantial and no large roundups were going to happen any time soon, Akechi focused on the one logical option.

He has not been working hard enough to secure Wakaba Ishikki's fate.

Akechi hums lowly under his breath as he slowly detailed the fletching on the crow's wings.

It's not inaccurate. He first made contact with her so that she could research for him, nothing more, nothing less. Even afterwards, he'd assumed that if he out-manoeuvred Shido, Wakaba would be in less danger anyway. If the murderer didn't take action, wouldn't the risk be drastically lessened?

Minato obviously disagrees.

And now that Akechi thinks about it, it wasn't as if there weren't other hitmen out there. If Akechi fails to kill Wakaba, Shido doubtlessly has other people on call to finish the job.

A sweaty gun, resigned, blazing eyes, a woman's last smile—

"I'm sorry… Futaba."

How nice, Akechi had thought as he disassembled his gun that night, that some mothers died thinking of their children.

Time to contact Wakaba again.

[MadPscientist: ?]

[GA: Greetings to you too, Pscientist-san. I was wondering what times you are available this coming week?]

[MadPscientist: this is weirdly sudden. usually its me contacting you aint it? whats up have you gotten replaced by an alien]

Akechi blinks at the odd reply and sighs.

[GA: No, it's just that my schedule has recently cleared up and I can uphold my side of the bargain with more regularity now.]

[MadPscientist: well you know me, always up for some metaverse diving. im generally good around tuesdays and fridays. how about you?]

[GA: 8:30 PM both days for the next month?]

[MadPscientist: wow i wasn't expecting that is it my birthday? i can go in all those weird corners i didn't dare go before! yes pls]

[GA: See you on the 5th of August then, Pscientist-san.]

For some inane reason, Wakaba responds with a line of thumbs-ups in a variety of colours, and Akechi just puts down the phone to focus back on a line of thought that he's been tracing back since last week. Naho is at the next desk on the phone talking to a team member he hasn't met yet in her own small yellow puddle of light, and Akechi knows he's on the verge of something here. There's a niggling memory, a newspaper article he read that he briefly noted before moving on.

What was it?

He looks at the flowchart that marked Shion Gen to Hideki Shibata, and then to the dozens and dozens of names that spring from that and frowns in deep thought.

Tuesday comes and Akechi doesn't waste time. He begs off a little early and Naho waves it off with good cheer.

"You're still in school, Akechi. You have highschool exams to prepare for, right? Good luck with your studies!" She encourages. Akechi's only glad that he studied so hard to upkeep Shogaku's high school scholarship the first time, as he still remembers most of his exam prep even now. It might be a different story once he enters second or third year, but his current studies are simple enough.

He still smiles in reply to her kindness. "I'm sorry, Mitarai-san," Akechi apologises. "I'm already very confident that I can maintain my scholarship but this week's unit was harder than usual."

"You're a hard worker, Akechi. We're not here to work you to the bone, you have adulthood to do that yet. Go, I'll see you tomorrow anyway."

They share a short laugh before Akechi catches the train back to his dorm. He closes the curtains and switches on his table-lamp before entering the Metaverse and racing towards Shibuya's vet. He arrives just on time for Wakaba to shimmer into the Metaverse herself.

"Whoo, I just gave a kinda bullshit excuse to Sojiro to watch my daughter for the next few weeks but I think he's onto me. He totally gave me that squinty doubty eye that he sometimes does to Futaba when she's trying to fake sleep."

They don't really waste time on the surface level – they both immediately start picking towards the subway entrance as Akechi tries to catch his breath without being too obvious about it.

"It seems like you're good friends," is what he manages when his lungs feel like they belong in his chest again.

"I've been friends with Sojiro for years," Wakaba snorts. "Way too long. He's known me from the very first day of university all the way until now. Gosh, that's nearly twenty years. I feel oooold."

"Mid-thirties isn't that old, Ishikki-san," Akechi replies as he picks his way down the stairs and past the barriers, rolling his shoulders as he's fitted in Robin Hood's regalia. As he's adjusting his white gloves over his fingers, Wakaba gives him a narrow side-eye.

"I bet you say that to all the ladies, that came out way too easily."

Akechi doesn't deny it. "It's easy to initiate conversation when you appeal to someone's vanity. A small compliment serves to break the ice well, though that doesn't detract from my previous statement, Ishikki-san. Your mid-thirties is far from the end of your prime, especially in the era that we live in. You know more about the possibilities of medical technology than me, surely."

"Yeah, yeah," Wakaba says. "Coming from a literal teenager these assurances somehow don't sound very assuring."

They get disrupted by a battle with a Shadow, which he quickly shoots down with a few laser shots.

"Hey, isn't that a different gun from before?" Wakaba nears with curiosity. Usually, Akechi would take a step back and avoid the question. But in the spirit of increasing the Arcana's rank, he offers the gun to her instead.

"Try shooting it, it should still have three bullets," Akechi says, and Wakaba holds the toy gun with utmost seriousness, pointing it at the wall and pulling the trigger. A flash of yellow light later, there's a smoking mark on the wall. Wakaba's eyes are wide as she turns the gun over and over in her hands.

"I'm not a weapon guy, but I swear laser guns haven't even been invented yet. Wait, is that your true identity, mysterious boy? You're a secret teen spy for the government!"

"Hah," Akechi declines to reply since she's not technically wrong. Shido's part of the Cabinet and Akechi could be seen as his secret spy. "You're right that laser guns have not been invented yet, Ishikki-san."

"Then what is this miracle of science?" Wakaba waves his gun around, and Akechi gently chuckles even as his eyes track the gun seriously.

"A toy gun from an anime-goods shop in Akihabara."

Specifically, it was the limited special edition scaled real-life model of Featherman Black's Ray Gun from Season Five's climactic scene in Episode 52, where Black and Yellow have a tense confrontation over Pink's disappearance, distinguished by the silver embellishments on the barrel. Any true fan would have noticed what it was at once.

"Wait, this is a toy gun?" Wakaba looks at it incredulously, and Akechi takes back the gun before she starts waving it around again. It was strictly limited edition – if it broke, he didn't know when production would ever start again.

"Yes, Ishikki-san. I'll demonstrate for you again if you wish."

In the next few minutes, Akechi lures another Shadow closer, and in a stroke of luck, manages to kill it in one critical shot. Akechi smoothly holsters it back in his belt when he's done.

"Can I try shooting it again?" Asks Wakaba.

"If you treat it carefully," Akechi warns. "No matter if it's a toy in the real world, it can seriously harm us here."

Also, Wakaba had forgotten to cut her nails and it seemed dangerously close to scratching the paint job. That was neither here nor there, so Akechi stood to the side as Wakaba tried shooting the last bullet into the wall.

Click. Click. Click.

"It's not working," Wakaba says with frustration, and Akechi laughs.

"That means you're doubting yourself." When Wakaba gives him a huge explain yourself right now look, Akechi expands. "The cognitive world works on your cognitions, Ishikki-san. If you believe it strongly enough, many things come true."

Taking the gun back, he points the laser gun down the hallway and presses the trigger, and another bright light bursts out to dart down into the darkness, impacting something with a burning hiss.

Wakaba's busy scribbling in her log-book.

"I see, I see…" She's muttering to herself. "Akechi, I might need to postpone the rest of today's research for Friday. I need to prepare some stuff for this new revelation. You've let me understand more secrets of this cognitive meta-world!"

How convenient. He had been prepared to sacrifice some sleep, but now he doesn't have to.

"Alright, we'll meet again at the same time on Friday."

As Akechi is jogging lightly back to his dorm through crumbled, snarling streets, his lips curl into a satisfied smile when he reaches into the back of his mind.

Fortune Rank 4 – Wakaba Ishikki

"Wow, so this is a Persona, you say?"

Wakaba has already clipped her hair back with a bunch of bobby-pins, and she adjusts her glasses with delight. There's an unfiltered wonder when she nears Robin Hood, who towers above her. He lets her approach, bending down to meet her eye. And when she sticks out her hand, presumably to touch him, Robin Hood misunderstands and brings one of his own large fists to hers, sticking out a finger for her to shake. They do a large arm shake for Wakaba and a small finger wag for Robin.

Wakaba shakes off a bit of that adult-tiredness that Akechi sees often in the streets, as office workers head to work with their shoulders bowed, eyebags heavy, scrolling on their phones. Instead, those lines on her face draw upwards as she hurls herself forward to hug Robin, who poofs into thin air because Akechi ran out of concentration.

Despite falling face-first into a crumbled road, all Wakaba does is roll onto her back and laugh.

"Do it again!" She demands, and since Akechi had made the resolution to demonstrate Personas today (something that will surely rank up the Arcana), he does.

Robin Hood rises up again, and he tilts his head side to side with an almost bird-like confusion when he sees no enemy to direct his bow at. Wakaba watches this with eyes that Akechi commonly see in children when they huddle around the newest toy display, and it's all well and good until she lunges at Robin with a syringe in her hand.

This time, it isn't Akechi that wrenches Robin Hood out of existence, and it's honestly a surprise for him that Personas had such control in the first place.

The Metaverse doesn't seem as sinister with Wakaba's happy laughter, Robin Hood sending over waves of panic and reluctance when Akechi reaches for his mask again.

Morrigan's laugh joins Wakaba's when Robin Hood materialises with less flair than usual, too gentle to cause Wakaba true harm, but also reluctant to let Wakaba do whatever she had planned with that syringe in her hand.

Fortune Rank 5 – Wakaba Ishikki

Another week over, another week's interrogations.

One late night, Akechi noticed that the information was slowly converging on the future opponents he will target. An old aristocrat, the head of a food chain company, a director of a multi-corp.

How much time does he have left?

Wakaba hangs back today, bottles of compounds in her pockets that she pulls in and out with a sense of controlled chaos. "So you hang around the Metaverse all day?" Wakaba asks casually, and Akechi accepts this conversation as a diversion.

"No, of course not, Ishikki-san. I have my own life to live. Please stand back." Akechi takes a sniping shot at a Shadow farther down the corridor, and when it lumbers closer to them he immediately ambushes it with an Eiga from Morrigan. By the time the transformed Shadow reaches them, it gives its last exhale and dies. Akechi sifts through the remains, picking up a pocketful of yen. "However, I do admit that the Metaverse is quite a calming place for me."

Wakaba gives him an incredulous look before taking a pointed glance around the subterranean tunnels they were in. The tunnels are dark, the footing under them is fractured. Seams of reality that seem to gape into some darker abyss crack the walls and the omnipresent red light keeps the shadows stark enough to keep the senses on edge.

Akechi takes in the same view pointedly with a smile.

"Yes, despite the atmosphere of the place, it's relaxing," Akechi reaffirms.

Perhaps back in the past, when he had first started delving into the Metaverse alone, it had been scary. To hear the strange drips that echoed off nothing, the winding tunnels that made no sense. When he was fifteen and Robin Hood was still weak, when every Shadow's attack was so much faster than he could handle. Both Loki and Robin Hood had been damage dealers, and he didn't even know heal spells existed until a Pixie used it on herself once.

Tetrakarn had been a blessing. It had stopped him from going to school with bruised ribs and hidden injuries that no teacher had looked twice at anyway.

Wakaba squints at all of this and nods to herself. "Well, if I was as strong as you and I was also a shady mofo who has too many secrets and seems to hate society, I think I'd like this place too. You can't get more removed than a parallel universe now, can you?"

Akechi has never been called a shady mofo in all his lives and Wakaba seems to know it. Her face has a shit-eating grin on it, and Akechi replies, just as pleasantly, "And here I was thinking all adults paragons of maturity, Ishikki-san. Since you raise a teenage daughter yourself, don't you realise that all of us have fragile egos? You've hurt me irreparably. I," Akechi sighs, "might never recover."

"Haha!" Wakaba grins, juggling a variety of drugs and chemicals in her arms ready to get injected into a Shadow. "You'll survive, snake boy!"

Fortune Rank 6 – Wakaba Ishikki

"If you know the diabetic history of my family, I bet you already know the name of my daughter, stalker boy."

Akechi nods. Futaba Ishikki had definitely left an impression on him, especially considering her quick hands and her wizardry with technology. He would never let her touch his phone ever again. "Though I do know, I thought it would be impolite if I mentioned her without you first introducing her to me, Ishikki-san."

"Bah, Ishikki-san, Ishikki-san, Ishikki-san. Don't wear out my mother's name or she'll come back from the grave and nag at me to get married again. Call me Wakaba."

Akechi honestly feels surprised at the offer. He pauses from sentry duty to stare at her with a bit of curious calculation, tilting his head as he tries to fit in this offer with what he knew of her. He knew, of course, that Futaba Ishikki had called Sojiro Sakura just by his name. He had always thought that sort of liberal attitude had come because Sojiro was trying his best to make Futaba feel at home, instead of something she inherited from her mother.

"What?" Wakaba has all her hackles raised as she irritably continues on with her business. "Why are you looking at me like that? I gotta tell you, boy, you're way out of my hit-zone and you're not my type."

"You're not my type either, Ishikki-san. Prime of your life or not, you're too old," Akechi says even while Wakaba blatantly rolls her eyes and repeats, 'Wa-ka-ba. Are you deaf?' He continues on like he doesn't hear her. "And to answer your previous question, I'm merely surprised."

"About what?" Wakaba replies now, settling away from Kei Tanaka's Shadow as she takes a moment to give Akechi her full attention. "My name isn't weird."

"No, but not many adults I know would offer the use of their personal name to the younger generation, especially if they're used to authority like yourself, Ishikki-san."

"When have I ever sounded like an authority figure to you?" Wakaba asks incredulously. And… that is very true. Wakaba just gives him one of those smiles that he thinks if her face wasn't so mature would translate straight to 'snotty-brat' and shrugs. "Speaking of authority figures, you wanna know how I met Sojiro, Goro-boy?"

"Never call me Goro-boy ever again."

"Well, Goro-boy, I accidentally corrected a professor in his lecture, got yelled at for my troubles, and then I yelled back because it's not as if I was wrong. And when I stood up because I lowkey wanted to punch the dude, the boy next to me stood up and put his cheek in the way of my fist! Then he apologised for getting in my way, pleaded to go to the nurse's office, dragged me with him, and we became friends!"

Akechi's still hung up over Goro-boy, but he has to concede that the story was pretty unusual. And considering how long this friendship lasted, it was also quite heart-warming.

"Later, Sojiro said he fell for me nearly first-sight," Wakaba's voice got a little smaller. "I never understood how punching him in the face was a ticket to his heart, but it was. What a strange man, he was pretty popular in university, you know? Everyone thought we were dating, but I didn't feel that way. I've never really felt that way for any person, but if I was going to love someone, Sojiro is probably it."

"…Ishikki-san, you do realise you're espousing your middle-aged love problems at a teenage boy, right?" Akechi says, merely because he knows Wakaba can take it.

And she does, rolling her eyes. "Brat, I'm just telling you. Love comes from anywhere!"

"I thought we were talking about authority figures," Akechi says just to be a pain, before taking a small pause. "Wakaba-san, we're going the wrong way."

"Hah, drop the 'san'!"

"How could I ever be so impolite?" Akechi deadpans, and Wakaba punches him in the shoulder.

"You know, if you ever get over your weird secrecy hang-ups one day, you should join me and Futaba and Sojiro for dinner! I think you and Futaba will have a blast. Don't think I didn't recognise what franchise that gun model's from, Futaba was practically begging me to buy that exact thing a day later. You two nerds will get along like a house on fire. What's so great about Featherman R anyway?"

Barring his immediate response to defend the deep thematic concerns confronted in Featherman R, Akechi is struggling to process the rapid shift from light-hearted banter to the strange suffocation at the thought of joining the three for dinner at LeBlanc. Wakaba had repeatedly stated that Sojiro had given up questioning her on most things, so if he sat with them he would mostly be fielding Futaba, but it would be pretty easy. All he had to do was start a debate on her ships – Black and Blue? Or Black and Yellow? And she could natter on all day.

He knows. He's sat through it on the periphery as she rambled to a confused Yusuke, who had nonchalantly said the aesthetic design of Black complemented Blue better.

(Futaba Sakura had hated him the moment she realised he killed the woman in front of him.)

"Think about it, Goro-boy!" Wakaba smiles. "Your snakey-ness aside, I'm now convinced you aren't that bad of a guy. The invitation is always open! I know you like Sojiro's curry, so you have no excuses, heh."

Akechi blinks twice, before turning his head away, staring up at the dark twisted ceiling.

"Refusal is the only reply you'll ever get from me if you continue calling me Goro-boy," he replies.

"Shucks, Akechi! Don't walk so fast! Are you trying to leave a poor old defenceless woman behind in a scary, dangerous parallel universe?"

He slashes a Shadow blocking their way in half with his sword with more viciousness than warranted, before turning around to face her with a gentle smile. He doesn't quite meet her eyes.

"Of course not, Wakaba-san."

Fortune Rank 7 – Wakaba Ishikki

Rank 8 happens like this.

Akechi is editing an essay while he continues scrolling through names of released prisoners in the past few years. He knows something is there, call it a hunch. It's something that he thinks Atsuzawa's crew has overlooked not because of incompetence, but because they probably already scanned over such a matter before. He's got an angle, but no justification yet.

It's ten at night when Akechi gets a message. He squints at it, assesses the risks, and switches off his lamplight. He closes the curtains tightly and puts on a ratty black hoodie and pants in absolute darkness. Shimmering into the Metaverse to leave the dorm, he's all the way to Shibuya before he shifts out of the Metaverse into an alleyway that smells heavily like cat pee.

He finds the fire escape that Wakaba mentioned to a relatively high building with ease. A quick glance around shows there aren't any security cameras, and he climbs it quickly and quietly. At the very top is a door that is supposed to be locked but has been left cracked open.

Wakaba is sitting in her lab coat, legs swinging over the edge.

"That is quite dangerous, Wakaba-san," Akechi says while doing the exact same thing. He's always been blessed with a remarkable sense of balance, and it's with no fear that he sees the fifteen-floor drop underneath his feet. The Tokyo spread is limited – they aren't taller than a few skyscrapers in the east, but straight forward is a glittering view of shops, streets, people and apartments.

It's strange, to see Wakaba in tinges that are not red.

"Sorry for calling you out, Akechi," Wakaba says, voice subdued, glasses reflecting the nightscape in front of them. "Futaba got to Sojiro first, so I couldn't rant to him."

The dots are there. Not many things affect Wakaba. There are only three things that reliably do so – her research, her daughter, and Sojiro Sakura.

"You and Futaba fought?" Akechi says, and Wakaba nods.

"I'm pathetic," Wakaba mumbles. "Just because you kind of talk like a slimy businessman doesn't mean you aren't still a teen. You're only like, a year older than Futaba or something. What am I thinking?"

Wakaba has already let slip for a while now, that Akechi's offerings to accompany her more in the Metaverse had increased tensions with her daughter. Wakaba had already been a workaholic, but with Akechi's offer, she had only worked later and later. Futaba loved her mother's company, which only fuelled her hurt with Wakaba's continual absenteeism.

"I don't know much about friendship, Wakaba-san," he says, thinking of grey eyes crinkled up in trust, of those same eyes drugged, in pain, dead on the floor. But Akira had always done one thing for those precious to him, and if there was anybody to emulate it was probably the golden boy of friendships himself. "But the one thing I do know is that friends try to be there for each other when they can."

"Snake-boy admitting we're friends?" She says with a little edge of sardonic irony, and Akechi merely takes it lightly, as he does many things.

"Yes, I am," he says, chuckling gently.

"The concerning thing is that I don't even know if that's genuine or not and it's making me feel better," Wakaba answers, unhunching a little from her turtle pose. There's a bit of silence as Akechi sits still, and Wakaba swings her legs and taps her heels against the building. In that pause, Akechi hesitates, before continuing with a little blasé.

"Although there may be intergenerational misunderstandings, I can probably provide the perspective of a younger person, Wakaba-san."

Wakaba owl-blinks at him.

"Are you offering to listen to my problems, Goro-boy?"

"…Alright, I'm leaving."

"Wait, wait, Akechi! I mean, I'm just very surprised. You don't seem the type."

Akechi really wasn't. The last time he was listening to Ann Takamaki complain about the distance to Shiho Suzui's new school, he had his best smile pasted on, stepped to the periphery of the group, and wished that they began farming the Metaverse quicker.

Perhaps this decision to listen to Wakaba came from his realisation that this interaction was most likely the key to unlock the next rank of the Arcana. Knowing more about Futaba Ishikki was also a tactical choice.

"You've heard it before right? Back when we went to visit my Shadow," Wakaba says when he settles down next to her again. "It's times like these that I wonder if I'm a good mother or not. Parent-teacher basically said the same thing – they always see that Futaba doesn't have a father and get all concerned. They tell me she doesn't respect teachers as much as she should. Sometimes when nothing is happening around the block my life is their prime gossip. 'That poor woman, she's a single mother, did you know?' And they say it again and again and again and it reaches Futaba's ears. Then she hugs me saying that all she needs is me, and fuck, I'm just not there enough."

Wakaba heaves a breath in, and Akechi stays quiet. He watches.

Perhaps when he was younger he put all adults on a pedestal. Most children do – staring up these bigger humans with stronger hands than yours, who held more answers than you, who were the ones who taught you and fed you and made sure you were comfortable.

To a younger Akechi, his mother had been his world.

Then he lost her, and he had to realise early that no matter how big you got, no matter how old you are, everyone was still human. They all made mistakes, all fumbled through the dark. The concept of being 7 years old is foreign to a 6-year-old, just as being 40 is foreign to a 30-year-old.

To a parent, their first child is their first draft at parenting. The child they tried to mould themselves to, to become someone worth looking up to. Like any first attempt at anything, the experience would never be perfect.

"I thought I would be better at it now, fourteen years on. I'm always touting myself as a cool mom, but in reality I'm just another anxious wreck when I think I'll fail this small human being that somehow loves me because I created half of her genome and raised her up."

The wind blows Akechi's dark hood away from his head, and the sudden shock of cool air on his scalp is refreshing. Akechi breathes deep with this Metaverse friend of his – for once, not smelling the stale, corrosive air of Mementos but one of night-chill and dust.

"Do you regret it?" Is Akechi's short question.

Wakaba straightens up with sudden fierceness as she faces Akechi, glasses flashing with fury at the very thought.

"Never. I would never regret Futaba. No matter what anyone mutters about me being a single mother or young mothers in general, Futaba is my treasure. I've made no mistakes, my daughter is my daughter. It's those people who would scoff at someone else's child that should fuck off and get out of my beeswax. Aren't there already thousands of unhappy traditional families anyway? Why are they saying that my happiness isn't worth anything because I'm not hitched to some office worker?"

Akechi rests his head on his knees, looking at Wakaba and sees a blurry image of another.

"I'm sorry, Goro."

"It's all your father's fault, he, hic, he should apologise!"

"You-you ruined me. I, I wish you were never—"

"Goro, go down the street to the baths now. Mommy has to do work. Here's some change for a glass of milk, okay?"

"I love you, Goro. I love you." Sobbing, "I love you, okay? Do you love me?"

"You're a good mother," Akechi smiles. "Do you hear yourself?"

Wakaba blinks.

"If you don't care about what others think," Akechi continues, "then the answer is simple. All people make mistakes, Wakaba-san. Those mistakes can lead to… hurt. Your daughter is still there to make up to, and after your apology, simply don't forget these arguments. You apologise and resolve yourself to do better. That's what you want to do, right? As you said, she's your daughter, after all."

His mother, hanging from the ceiling.

Mom, am I not enough?

What use were apologies when the other is already dead?

"Goro, you're surprisingly helpful," Wakaba says with a bit of light-heartedness, wiping her eyes sneakily. "I bet you don't argue with your mother."

Akechi debates a little in his head, but the words come out surprisingly smoothly.

"My mother was also a single mother like you," he says conversationally. "She committed suicide when I was young."

Wakaba freezes, before narrowing her eyes. "Wait, you don't think it's your fault do you—"

Akechi cuts her off. "Wakaba-san, your love for Futaba is greater than the gossip around you, and you don't regret your choice to succeed in both your career and your role as a mother. What you have now is a temporary setback, isn't it, Mad Pscientist-san?"

"Wait, answer my question first—"

"What are you planning on doing?"

Wakaba purses her lips tight in disapproval, but she doesn't try continuing her questions. Which is all well, Akechi thought with his warmest smile back on his face, because although he had offered the can of worms, he still wasn't truly interested in delving into it.

"I'm going to march straight down this building, go to LeBlanc, hug the shit out of Futaba and take her and Sojiro out for late-night ice-cream," she says with determination, like she's on a warpath. When Akechi nods, she waves for him to stop. "And kid. Goro. Goro Akechi, listen to me. You're a good kid, okay? I take back everything mean I ever said about you. Sure, you're a control freak and talk like a snake, but you're a good person."

You're talking to your murderer, Akechi doesn't say.

"And my invitation is still open. Wanna join me for late-night ice-cream? Sojiro always has a bit of an empty nest syndrome, you know. He's ridiculously attached to Futaba, and Futaba has always wanted an older brother."

Akira will fill that role.

"I know you like sweets too," Wakaba continues, voice becoming more animated the longer he sits there without replying. "All the snacks you bring to Mementos are sweet, I've definitely noticed. You need to be careful about your dental hygiene, but more importantly, that only means late-night ice-cream is totally in your field of interest, right?"

Wakaba sits there, expectant, and somewhere, someplace in Akechi's heart, he wants to go. He can see it, in some other universe, trailing behind Wakaba like some dark awkward shadow. Wakaba would announce him in some ridiculous way, perhaps, and Sojiro would let it go after a few glances in between the two. He would gruffly tell Futaba to knock off the curious staring, who would obviously be a bit miffed that her special time with her mother and father-figure was interrupted by a stranger.

Perhaps slowly, in this other universe, the more he joins the more Futaba would warm up to him. Wakaba would mock, Akechi would return with sly quips, and Sojiro would sigh in exasperation as he spooned Futaba another bowl of ice-cream, or curry, or whatever it was for dinner that night.

But he can't.

The moment that thought flashed through his mind, Wakaba starts drooping. Perhaps they have been spending too much time together, a teen detective and an overenthusiastic scientist traversing the unknown. They read each other pretty well.

"It's not safe, I'm sorry," Akechi replies with rare sincerity.

"Come on, Shido this, Shido that. Nothing's happened," Wakaba tries again, and Akechi closes his eyes and thinks of Shido's last list.

Medical practitioners and scientists. All of them.

"No, I can't. Maybe… Maybe later," Akechi compromises, and Wakaba slaps him on the shoulder as they get off the edge of the building, stepping back to relative safety.

"Then it's a promise!"

Wakaba walks first towards the fire escape exit, and pauses, obviously waiting for Akechi to come with her.

Perhaps this time he presses the Metaverse button with more determination than before, as Wakaba and all the glittering signs of life in front of him disappear. He sneaks into his dorm by slinking through the Metaverse, appearing back into his room with no-one the wiser. His curtains are still tightly shut, and his edited essay still neatly stacked on his table.

Somewhere, he hopes Wakaba has reconciled with Futaba with her usual, slightly awkward flair. That they're in a parlour somewhere with Sojiro arguing about which flavour's the best for supper and leaving the ugly remnants of their argument behind.

He, however, takes a peek through his curtains and sees what he's been seeing for the past two weeks. It's the small gleam of a camera from the apartment beside the dorm, trained to his window, and Akechi takes a step back. Changing out of his clothes and truly sleeping in his bed now, he tries to not feel perturbed that it's nearing Wakaba's death-day. August 30th.

She only has to survive past August 30th.

On the 27th of August, Shido sends him a package. Inside, there's a list, alongside a small box.

Inside are a few boxes of ammunition. Packed next to it is a familiar gun.

At the end of the list of high profile politicians, runaway lenders, and uncompromising opponents is a familiar name.

Wakaba Ishikki.

Fortune Rank 8 – Wakaba Ishikki.

Chapter Text

When Wakaba barrels through the door of the Safe Room, Akechi doesn't even have to scrounge up any of the conversation starters that he prepared beforehand. Wakaba pants, looking for all that she sprinted here, collapsing on the seat opposite him with a flump. "I think you were right, Akechi. You were right all along. Fuck."

"What happened?" Akechi asks.

"I caught someone in my lab accessing my personal computer," Wakaba says darkly. "When I asked someone to track what they did, they've put their grubby paws on nearly everything. They've somehow even changed my will. Maybe some of your paranoia is rubbing off on me, but who would change someone's will to benefit themselves if they're not planning on killing them?"

Akechi blinks. He's already planned his conversation, but it's beginning better than he thought. He will get Rank 9 today, no matter what.

"I think it is time to come clean on my association with Shido, Wakaba-san," Akechi says, and Wakaba turns puzzled eyes on him.

"You know I don't care about your mysteriousness, right—"

Her words stop as she looks at what he placed on the table. The gun and the list of names on the side is placed in the centre. Alongside that, Akechi offers his phone with his text log that shows its incriminating last message. Wakaba falls silent after she takes it all in, and Akechi uses the opportunity to fully explain his circumstances.

"A few months ago, I found I had the powers to access the Metaverse and accidentally saved Shido's life with them. He quickly realised what the powers of the Metaverse could bring, and I accepted a deal with him to test the extent of my powers."

Akechi slightly twisted the story, but his bitter laugh is as genuine as it gets. Wakaba listens intently with a frown, even as she curiously touches the gun to check if it's real.

"Early on, I realised something was amiss with the things he was trying to do," Akechi continues. "Many experiments involved trying to break into physical spaces, coercion, interrogating Shadows for private information, and what effects violence and such against Shadows would bring." He places his hands on his lap neatly. "Shido is not one to leave his aces for someone else to use, Wakaba-san. By how quickly the experiments were escalating and Shido's own corrupt moral character, even then I believed that he was grooming me to be an assassin."

"The perfect murderer," Wakaba echoes his own thoughts.

"Yes," Akechi agrees. "Around the time of this realisation, I found a list of cognitive phenomenon researchers in his study. You were the most accessible out of this whole list, Wakaba-san."

"Then you contacted me and brought me in here. We've never seen anyone else, have we?" Wakaba says slowly, fingers tapping the table as if she was wishing she had something to jot notes with. "If you didn't bring me here, you would be unhindered to do whatever you want, Goro."

"Yes," he says with a little consternation. "I am indeed the perfect killer in that sense."

The both of them look at the gun in between them, and Wakaba swallows heavily.

"With each act I do for Shido, the more I'm embroiled in his schemes," Akechi admits, looking down to the hands. "I already have cameras tracking my moves, and Shido has effectively threatened to take away my independence if I ever disobey or leave him. For personal reasons, I do not mind being shackled to him for now… But Wakaba-san, there's one thing I do not wish to concede."

"You don't wish to kill," Wakaba finishes for him, her eyes completely serious behind her glasses. Her fingers tap against the table more agitatedly now. "The reason why you wish for me to research a drug that induces a coma is to trick Shido."

"Yes," Akechi smiles. "I've been increasing my worth by interrogating a lot of suspects. I know he is impressed, and I wish to establish my worth with my information gathering abilities more so than assassination. To do that, I need to fake that killing a Shadow doesn't kill in real life."

"Why don't you just lie and say killing Shadows does nothing to the real person?"

Akechi smiles wryly. "That won't work, Wakaba-san."

In all his experiments, Shido had never once doubted that acting against a Shadow wouldn't affect reality in some way. He trusted Akechi's extracted information as explicitly as someone like Shido could and held great expectations on what killing a Shadow would bring even the first time around. An absolute null response like 'killing a Shadow doesn't affect reality at all' could perhaps trigger Shido to ask whether that is true with the Mastermind, the actual worst-case scenario.

"Ugh," Wakaba grunts in frustration, making a mess of her bob as she rakes her hands through it. "Kid, Goro, why didn't you tell me all of this earlier?" She looks genuinely upset when she continued with an irritated snap. "And stop smiling! There's nothing in this situation worth smiling about, is there?"

Akechi shrugs. "Perhaps," he concedes, and his smile flattens as he reaches to take the gun back, putting it in the box alongside the list. It's a clinical movement when he checks the gun's safety, and when Akechi looks at Wakaba, he doesn't bother putting up pretences.

"In another life, Wakaba-san, I would've been your executioner."

"Yeah, I'm figuring that out," Wakaba leans back in her chair with a sigh, thunking her head on the nearby wall. "If you weren't such a good person, I would be dead before I even realise, wouldn't I?"

Hah. Good person.

"Goro, I haven't finished the drug yet." She pushes on. "But if you need one now, I have a beta product. It's a heavy, extreme sleep drug. Inject it into a Shadow and it'll knock out their Real World counterpart for a few hours, at least. I haven't made an agent that'll wake them up yet though."

Akechi considers this and looks at the list in his hand. Five names, for a weekly task.

"That'll be enough for now," he nods, before rising up from their table. "I need five vials. I'll keep you updated," Akechi says with sardonic humour, "if this ruse works or not."

Five vials richer, he delays.

He delays and delays until he reaches August the 30th just for his own satisfaction before he visits the very first Shadow.

As he stares down the yellow eyes of the muttering Shadow, he thinks, he's already changed fate. He thinks, Wakaba Ishikki is still living another day. The day is still swelteringly hot, the journey in Mementos still filled to the brim with burning Shadows wailing about their suffering.

But on August the 30th, the Shadow beneath his fingers is not Wakaba.

Fortune Rank 9 – Wakaba Ishikki

GA: It seems that killing a Shadow results in a few hours of forced unconsciousness to their counterpart in the real world

GA: I continued observing the killed Shadow. It slowly healed itself during those few hours until it was fully revived

GA: Should I continue the experiment?

No. Listen to my instructions at a later date.

This is the only reply until a week into September, where Shido instructs him to kill one of the Shadows on his list at 9:00 PM exactly. He does what Shido says, using his third vial of drug that evening.

The next day, he sees broad headlines that the director fainted just as he was leaving the company, later dying in hospital after a medical misdiagnosis. His death sparked debate over some outdated legislation, which was when politician Masayoshi Shido took the stage, demanding the nation not neglect its most vulnerable members, reminding that everyone will use the healthcare system many times in their lives. His proposal for an investigation into Japanese hospitals alongside a new bill was well-received by the government and the greater public.

Akechi reads this with a rueful laugh.

At least he's demoted himself to a hidden accomplice.

The old politician dies without input from Akechi with the newspapers citing old age, and the broker also dies as a minor article in the news. But Shido does enlist him to put the estranged noble to sleep on his front porch. There, he was killed in the old-fashioned assassin way – a bullet to the brain from a sniper in the trees.

Akechi has merely become a security to his assassination plans, someone to use only when the target has a steady routine. So he tells Wakaba to leak her timetable for the few weeks to Shido as casually as she can. Before he can suggest ways for her to do so, Wakaba has already replied.

[MadPscientist: got it, don't worry.]

A few days later Shido sends him a text. The 10th of September, 7:45 PM, he is to go to Wakaba's Shadow and put her to sleep.

He sends this information straight to Wakaba, whose response is a string of colourful characters before it turns coherent.

[MadPscientist: omfg i cant believe this is futaba's sperm donor]

[MadPscientist: thats when i pick up futaba from cram school if you do it then shell see it all wtf]

[MadPscientist: my last shred of respect for him is utterly gone.]

[MadPscientist: do you have any plans?]

[GA: Yes. All you have to do is change your plans last minute. If it's your daughter's cram school, call her up as sick a few minutes before class. By 7:45, go to somewhere with a lot of people where you're not in the open, or some place where you know is safe. Stay there for three hours.]

[GA: I'm familiar with the hitman Shido is hiring. He's not the type to chase a kill. If the information given is accurate, he will complete the job 100%. But if the information he's given is wrong, he'll cite it as the employer's problem and leave.]

[MadPscientist: im not even gonna ask why youre so familiar with this but ok I have a place in mind]

She sends a screenshot of a university campus.

[MadPscientist: ill borrow a lab there, its owned by a friend. taking a 3 hr nap there is quite normal.]

[GA: I'll leave it to you.]

When he puts down his phone, he stops to process for a moment. He scrolls the chat back a little and stares. Even when the lunch bell rings and everyone is scrambling out the classroom, Akechi keeps staring at the message that Futaba Ishikki's wedlock father is Masayoshi Shido. It's not surprising, perhaps, that with Shido's proclivity that he would have siblings somewhere. It's just surprising that it is Futaba Ishikki.

Had he ever spoken anything to her privately, outside of the Phantom Thieves?

"Are you alright, Akechi-kun?" The timid voice of their class representative interrupts his thoughts, and he automatically smiles at her, something that she receives with something of a blush. She's not the type to ever confront him about it though, so he ignores it.

"Thank you for checking in, Sakura-san. I merely received a surprising personal text."

"Oh no," Mai Sakura immediately gasps in concern. "Is it something bad? I hope everything's okay."

"No, it's more disturbing than anything truly horrific. I appreciate your concern though."

Mai's face turns a deeper shade of pink.

"N-no, it's my pleasure, Akechi-kun. You always do your chores so diligently, and you tutor other members of the class all the time… I just thought someone should care for you just as much as you care for others! Umm!" Mai cuts herself off then, shrinking into herself in mortification. "A-anyway, Akechi-kun. Do you want to head to the cafeteria together?"

The cafeteria's food is too expensive for his tastes, but he stands up gracefully anyway. Mai Sakura's uncle is part of the school board. It isn't a bad relation to make.

"Let's go," he smiles warmly at her. "Any specials on today?"

On the 10th of September, Akechi is standing in an alleyway close to LeBlanc in Yongen-Jaya while Wakaba settles Futaba Ishikki down with Sojiro Sakura.

"See ya, Sojiro!" Wakaba called over her shoulder, giving a jaunty wave as she steps out. "Thanks for minding Futaba again for me!"

A hand on her shoulder stops her from fully stepping over the threshold, and the door's jingle is abnormally loud as the two stays in the doorway, the tall figure of Sojiro Sakura a slim silhouette.

"I don't know what you're doing, Wakaba," Sojiro replies quietly after Akechi hears him telling Futaba to wash her hands so they could cook together. His voice is deep with concern. "But you've been off these past few weeks. You know I always have your back. If there's anything wrong, tell me. I'll help you best I can."

He feels Wakaba falter. Both from Wakaba's Shadow and from her own frank admission, Sojiro Sakura is an important figure to her life. He had been there through the years where she had been struggling to balance life and schooling, had appeared with no questions asked whenever either she or Futaba ever needed help. He had never let his unrequited feelings ever bitter their relationship, something precious to them both.

"I've been trying," Wakaba had said once, "Trying to love Sojiro back for so long. And I think I'm getting there. He's something else, you know? Not many people can wait for years for someone to figure out their feelings. Figures right," she laughed mockingly, "that I'm finally realising my feelings when it's too late."

"Sojiro… Remember about what I said before?" Wakaba says, and Sojiro releases a large sigh.

"That if I know too much I'll be in danger? That's bullshit, Wakaba. I left my government post because I wanted a change of pace, not because of whatever conspiracy theory you cooked up. I'm an adult—"

Akechi finally steps out onto the street and signals to Wakaba that they need to go. They're wasting too much time, and Wakaba needs to be in her safe zone before he can enact their plan. Wakaba nods slightly, but Sojiro Sakura is a sharper man than he would've expected. It's only due to quick reflexes that Akechi manages to slip back into the alleyway he hid himself in before Sojiro Sakura takes a quick step around Wakaba to glare into the street.

"Whoever you are, show yourself," Sojiro says, voice low and laced with an edge of a threat. "I just want to have a simple chat about certain matters concerning our mutual friend here."

Akechi doesn't move, not willing to expose himself any further than he needs to. He's only here because Wakaba was nervous, and he was half-way hopeful that some increased interaction would get their Rank to 10.

It hasn't happened yet.

"Sojiro, stop it," Wakaba says as she stomps around Sojiro, voice exasperated, just in time for a girl's voice to sound brightly behind them in the café.

"Mom, you're still here? I thought you said you were in a hurry!" Futaba's voice asks curiously, stepping out alongside them. Orange hair, brown eyes. Akechi's never noticed before, but Wakaba and Futaba grinned in exactly the same way. "Maybe if you come back soon, I can save you a plate of my absolutely amazing cooking, muahaha!"

"You mean Sojiro's cooking right?" Wakaba teases, flicking her daughter on the head before using it as enough distraction to take a few steps back. Sojiro doesn't follow her when Futaba attracts his attention again, though his eyes follow Wakaba's figure as she walks rapidly down the street. Akechi takes his cue, stealing his way through the alleyways to Shibuya station.

The text comes after ten minutes or so.

[MadPscientist: im there]

[GA: Good, I'll begin. At precisely 7:45, make sure you're in a secure place.]

He traverses Mementos until he's in front of Wakaba's Shadow a few minutes early. The syringe of the sleeping agent is steady in his hand as Wakaba's Shadow doesn't even protest, standing still with her eyes staring down at Akechi as he stares at his phone for the time to change.

At 7:45 he pushes the needle in and injects it. As he's seen all the times before, the Shadow blinks sleepily, before collapsing onto the floor. Leaving it there, he returns back to the surface to his normal routine for the hidden camera's sake.

Homework, some light reading. It's ten at night when Akechi's phone pings with a message.

[MadPscientist: im safe. our plan worked.]

Akechi honestly waits with a bit of bated breath for some grand announcement saying their cooperation made their Arcana rank to 10, but it doesn't happen.

But even without it, Wakaba lives on.

Fate, continually changing.

Shido's next plan was for Akechi to sleep Wakaba right when she's holding a speech for an important conference on September the 15th. This time, Wakaba has to go – apparently not attending is scientific death.

This time, Wakaba miraculously avoids some falling scaffolding as she faints right after a bounding leap she does in the middle of her presentation, landing straight into her audience. She's hurriedly carted off by a crowd of her peers to the medical tent, where she's pronounced fine.

Waking up a few hours later, Wakaba claims that she noticed that something was weird with the scaffolding, so she tried to dodge it. To faint for so long, she guessed she must've bumped her head on a chair or something.

This time, Akechi is there when Shido hears the news, and the anger is something to behold. In the past, whenever Shido got frustrated or angry over his plans not working as they should, he would bellow to his phone, or simmer in silence as he plotted his next move. He's demanding answers from someone in the phone who seems to be constantly apologising as Akechi stands to the side, watching with a sense of trepidation.

Continuing to field his attacks isn't sustainable.

[MadPscientist: but where would i run to? shido has his grubby paws everywhere in japan. and you even said that taking down shido doesnt mean anything, because hes actually part of this huge conspiracy.]

That statement is also true. Running wouldn't work, fielding wouldn't work. Attacking so early in the game would be useless and no miracle solution was forthcoming.

(No matter what he did, whatever topic he raises, whatever suggestions he makes, their Arcana refused to rank up to 10.)

Another week passes. Akechi searches Shido's desk whenever he's called up, but there are no new assassination orders. On the 19th, Shido requests Akechi to meet him in his apartment. That day, the bad temper Shido had been sporting for the past month disappeared.

Instead, Shido's sits in his chair, oddly patient, eyes trained to the glittering cityscape outside his windows even when Akechi finishes reporting. Shido doesn't ask him to leave, so Akechi continues standing there, serving as an audience to a play he doesn't know yet.

The clock chimed nine. Something blooms in the corner of his eye.

"Ah," Shido sighs in satisfaction. "There you go."

Akechi lets his gaze follow Shido's, out the large floor-to-ceiling windows, to a sudden plume of slow-rising smoke in the darkness of the night. The slight red-orange glow of a fire was like a beacon in the night. From Shido's high-rise, the smoke trail looked almost comically small as it slowly started rising into the air. The location was near the edge of the city, right where—

Akechi's pupils shrunk as he controlled his breath, hiding his reaction by looking down at his sleeves and adjusting his cuffs.

It's finally happened.

They've run out of time.

"It seems like you recognise Wakaba Ishikki's research centre," Shido's smooth voice cut into his thoughts, and he gives up on the button to look up again. Shido's smirk fills his vision, his head rested on his steepled fingers even as Akechi spots tiny red and blue lights racing down the streets towards the blaze. "We've failed a few times, but we've finally succeeded. She wasted a lot more money and time than I expected, but third time's the charm."

Akechi swallows.

"Congratulations," he manages to say, and Shido nods.

"You were the only one who did their job correctly throughout this mission, Akechi. I'm not an unfair man. You can expect your reward in your letterbox later."

Shido obviously expects a reply in his good mood, as his eyes continue to follow the trail of orange smoke with a glitter of amusement.

"Thank you, Shido-san. May I ask to be excused? I apologise for disrupting your moment, but I have an assignment due soon."

"You may," Shido replies, not bothering to look at him as he continues staring out the window.

The moment he's in the streets Akechi hails a passing taxi and rattles the address of Wakaba's research centre. No matter how he's trying to hide it, some of his panic must be edging his voice because the taxi driver sits to attention with a little more alertness.

"As quickly as possible please," Akechi doesn't nearly plead as much as demand, and the thin hands of the taxi driver grip the steering wheel a little tighter.

"Buckle up, boy," he says gruffly even as he steps on the pedal and they shoot forward a little wildly onto the main road.

Perhaps traffic is kind, or it's the frankly dizzying skills of the taxi driver weaving through cars as he did, but they reach the block which holds Wakaba's laboratory in record time. As they draw closer, the more traffic there is, the brighter the red glow in the edge of the night. The taxi driver seems to make his own conclusions by how Akechi's eyes are trained to the smoke rising up into the night.

He swerves into a stop soon after.

"Kid, considering the commotion its closest to stop here. Go through that alleyway over there and turn right," the man says, tone sympathetic, and Akechi nods as he pushes the fare at the driver and practically hurls himself out the taxi. He races out the alleyway into a crowd of people who are all staring and gasping at the wild flames that lick the night. Fire trucks have already cordoned off the main area, and firefighters were hosing down the flames and the buildings on the side. As Akechi quickly slips through the crowd, he spots a few ambulances already on standby, and a commotion as one of the patients squirm underneath a paramedic's strong grip.

"There are still a few researchers in there!" The young man is yelling, glasses nearly slipping off his face.

A ripple of a murmur passes through the crowd as a firefighter emerges from the building, and Akechi stares just like everyone else as the fighter puts the body down in front of the paramedics.

Nudging closer, closing in on the barrier now, Akechi spots the body – he is a middle-aged man, coat burnt and singed. Not Wakaba. That paramedic tending to that woman over there – not Wakaba. The one with a shock blanket over them – not Wakaba.

The young man isn't calming down. "My supervisor is still in there! Please, there's still someone in there! Ishikki-san should still be inside the lab!"

This is all Akechi needs to blend back into the crowd to the side and reach for his phone.

The Metaverse is silent. The burning heat of the flames against his side is gone. The crowd is gone. The building in front of him is as cold and dark as ever, and the dark red tinge of the Metaverse gleams against the concrete almost wet.

Akechi runs inside.

The building is more broken down than usual, and parts of the building keep melting away. It keeps footing treacherous as Akechi leaps over stacks of rubble and swings himself around corners that he's only heard vague descriptions of.

To the left, Wakaba had once said, her private lab was the one at the very end of the corridor.

His feet ring hard against the grimy tiled floor until a tile suddenly cracks and gives away under him, opening up into a wide yawning darkness that Akechi starts falling into. Akechi simply has no time for this. He's been through more treacherous Palaces before, all by himself. Although he is not an intruder delving into the secrets of humanity that Mementos hides, it's with determination that he summons the feelings that he once had – when he was a child watching television, his mother behind him humming a vaguely familiar tune.

"Of course superheroes exist, Goro," his mother laughed. It was one of her good days, where her smiles were a little brighter, and she liked to watch Akechi play. "They give justice for all those who can't fight for themselves!"

"I wanna be one when I grow up!" Akechi clenched his small fists, imagining himself swinging Green's sabre as he swung around the duster instead. "Cos they're so cool!"

Robin Hood's regalia melts onto his form, the white princely uniform and the red mask materialising on his face with the echo of his mother's laugh, and Akechi reaches for the edge of it with clawed hands. He rips it off with savagery, scowling down at the darkness already swallowing his feet.

"Robin Hood!" He yells, and even though there are no Shadows to contend with Robin Hood materialises behind him. "Megaton Raid!"

There's a spark of hesitation before Robin reels back, and the next second Akechi isn't falling into the depths of the ice-cold unknown anymore - he's biting back extreme pain as Robin's hit blasts him straight in the back. He tastes blood in his mouth as he flies forward, rolling down the corridor until he barely catches himself from crashing straight into the wall. It takes a few seconds before he catches enough breath to get up. He's a little woozy when he staggers forward, his ribs creaking as he reaches a hand to the only door at the end of the corridor and opens it.

A laboratory in shambles greets him, and Akechi clenches his jaw as he pulls his phone out and taps the Metaverse app.

Unrelenting heat immediately slams into him even before Akechi has truly shifted back into reality, and Akechi quickly crouches despite the protests of his ribcage. The drowning roar of the crackling flames are next, and when Akechi takes a glance back he realises the door is already engulfed in flames, as well as the corridor behind it. There're ominous creaking noises above him, and the smoke is thick enough that Akechi can't see clearly.

"Wakaba!" He calls as loudly as he can, going around a few boiling hot lab tables, the glass on top of them long shattered. "Where are you?"

There's no answer, and Akechi continues calling out until he can't. His skin is too hot for his body, his sweat evaporating straight off his skin, and he nearly doesn't register it when he does stumble upon a hand. It takes a bleary second before Akechi snaps to action, grabbing it and immediately tapping the Metaverse app.

Cold seeps back in, and Akechi breathes a few large lungfuls of air as he lays Wakaba down on the floor of the building. Even though it's still relatively unstable, he has to make sure that he can move her without vitally injuring something.

At a quick glance, one of her legs is folded funnily, and her side was lacerated with something, as even through some severe looking burns Akechi can see some wet glimmers cracking through. Half of her neatly cut hair is matted with blood.

No place seems safe to touch.

"Goro?" Wakaba coughs out wetly, before immediately scrunching up her face in pain. "Oh, ow. Are-are we in the Metaverse?"

"Yes, I'm going to get you close to the rescue team immediately, Wakaba-san. I'm going to lift you now. Three, two…"

"No, go back!" Wakaba's fingers clutch at his sleeve and clench, and Akechi stares wide-eyed at her in confusion. "Get my laptop. I managed to hide it under the table, hurry!"

"Wakaba, you're injured—"

"Now, Goro Akechi!" She demands, and Akechi realises that she won't cooperate until this is done. Pulling out his phone, he taps the Metaverse app again. Smoke hits his lungs hard, the room already in a worse state than before. Wakaba's desk is right next to him, and he hurries to grab the laptop hidden under a few sheets. Akechi manages to warp back just as the ceiling started caving in. Wakaba's wordless relief is transformed when the room they're in starts cracking at the edges, its real counterpart destroyed.

The world is disintegrating around them, shedding and warping, and Akechi bends down next to Wakaba with urgency.

"Where can I lift you, Wakaba-san?" Akechi asks, serious. "Are any of your internals hurt?"

"I honestly can't tell," Wakaba replies with a grimace. "The world is pain. Just lift me, because I definitely can't walk. Better be out of here than greet certain death, am I right?"

Akechi nods before forcing a deep breath as he reached up to pull his mask off again.

"Robin Hood! Megaton Raid!"

He bears the pain from what Raid takes from him, injuries aching worse as Robin Hood pulls energy to direct a mighty blow at the weakened window frame in the wall. The window crashes and crumbles, leaving a jagged hole half a metre up.

"Get ready," he mutters half to himself as he carefully places himself on Wakaba's unburnt side and lifts her up. He grits his teeth. She's heavy like all bodies are, and he takes a deep breath and hauls them forward. Step by step, he reaches the hole in the wall and awkwardly manoeuvres them through.

Robin Hood punched it too high up for him to easily step over it, but they're nearly in the clear until his foot snags on a sharp piece of protruding concrete and he trips, dropping Wakaba who immediately curls around her laptop protectively. There's a sickening crunch.

"Okay," Wakaba hisses faintly. "I think a rib finally gave in and stabbed something."

Akechi is pulling himself up with a harsh exhale, his own breathing compromised. "Sorry," he manages, carefully rolling her over before stopping when Wakaba gives a wet gurgle of pain. He lets go with a jerk backwards, leaving her face-down on the floor.

She can't be moved any more, and Akechi hedges his bet and reaches for his phone again, putting one hand on her shoulder as they exit the Metaverse.

Immediately, his back is blazing hot, and when he turns around the shattered window behind them is not an improbable way for Wakaba to escape. Assessing the situation around them (deserted, for now), Wakaba herself is suddenly lit in colour, and the red in her dark green hair, the horrific burns on her side, her half-melted clothes—

Akechi swallows. Even if this rescue is successful, recovery will be a long, involved process.

"Don't look at me like that, Goro-boy," Wakaba manages to say. She tries to laugh, but it turns into a somewhat wet gasp instead. "I won't die yet. Give me my phone, it's in my pocket."

Miraculously, the phone still works, and Wakaba shakily tells him her PIN.

"Inside my phone is a list of all my passwords for my computer. They're both yours, okay?" Wakaba asks, voice fading out every other word. Her face continues to try to twist her grimace into a grin. "Remember, this isn't your fault kid. We did good, okay? Saved my life twice before the hounds came. Gotta count for something, heh."

Akechi is done with this.

"Someone!" He shouts loudly, ignoring Wakaba. "Anyone, help! There's someone hurt!"

Wakaba's smile relaxes.

"Stop smiling," Akechi curses when he looks back down. "You've got nothing to be smiling about."

"Heh, backtalking already. Kids these days," Wakaba grumbles fondly, and Akechi gently shakes her when she seems like she's going to fall asleep. She startles with a hiss of pain before her eyes droop again. "Hey, promise me something?" She mumbles into the dirt. Akechi hears a few people already starting to run around the corner. He needs to leave, but he kneels to catch Wakaba's few last words. "Take care of Futaba?"

Akechi swallows, thinking of Wakaba's black eyes, and Futaba's brown ones.

His own brown eyes. Shido's brown eyes.

"…Of course," he replies gently.

"Thanks, snake-boy."

Her lingering smile is the last thing he sees as he takes the laptop and phone. With a tap, he warps into the Metaverse right before the first responders rush around the corner. He takes a few moments, breathing heavily as he tries to take stock of his own injuries and pains. Some parts of his body don't wish to move, but he forces them anyway, using the wall as leverage as he stumbles forward towards the front.

He phases out when he's arranged his clothes as presentably as possible, just in time to see Wakaba being carefully loaded into an ambulance.

She's safe, for now.

But it will not last long.

Shido calling Akechi over, that smirk of satisfaction when he watched the flames alight – that all indicated that Wakaba's continued escape from death has made her case a personal mission.

Knowing that Wakaba has escaped yet again will only cause Shido to act because Shido didn't deal with losing very well.

The research institute in front of him burns with an almighty groan, golden sparks floating into the overwhelming acridity of the billowing black smoke. News crews have finally arrived on scene, reporters setting up their cameras and microphones to make live news reports, police shooing people away from crowding the barrier. Akechi uses the moment of distraction when the balcony falls with a groan to take his leave.

If he can't protect Wakaba because he is still too weak, then he only needs to rely on someone who is strong enough.

He's written enough reports to know how to fake one.

[To: [email protected]

…and in the most recent investigation on Agent XX2134, we found it induced an interesting state of psychosis on a consenting test subject after it had been approved of being safe for human application. Measures on the subject's physical status were unchanged except for increased gamma waves during the REM cycle. After the subject woke up, he reported his subjective experience immediately into a recorder available (whole interview available in Appendix A).

He described that after applying Agent XX2134 he felt as if he was falling in what seemed like space. Having fallen for a while, he arrived at a stream of stars or bright light. When questioned on this stream later, he said he didn't remember much except that 'I felt like I had to get away from it, that it wasn't my time yet'.

After waiting at the stream he decided to walk forward. He reported that it was a surprisingly boring period of dreaming – nothing happened until the end, where he neared what seemed like the only anomaly in the landscape. When he neared, he saw that it was a golden door, with what seemed like a stone figure chained to it in a pose reminiscent of typical renditions of the sacrificial cross in Christianity. What this may symbolise is of yet unknown…

…ultimately shows that Agent XX2134 has potential to induce dreams or hallucinations that lead to that place with the Golden Door. This research furthers the hypothesis that there is a meta-cognitive realm beyond our understanding of Earth…

Principal Researcher: Wakaba Ishikki]

Akechi hits send on Wakaba's laptop and closes it after cutting its connection to the internet. He wanders through the Metaverse without much destination in mind.

This place and it's dark corners all his, once again. In the end, he doesn't know what he's thinking when his feet lead him to Shido's apartment complex. Logically, he knows, he should clean Wakaba's blood off his hands and the clothes he is wearing. He needs a replacement immediately, as the clothes are also burnt. His hair is definitely singed, and his injuries need to be treated.

He stares up at this building, feeling a little disconnected.

"Remember, it's not your fault, kid. We did good, okay?"

They're tears of pain, and her smile is wavering.

Ah, so that's why, Akechi thinks. He takes a step forward, then another, ignoring the twinges in his ribs, the difficulty in his breath as he starts his climb upwards.

Late that night, a nurse walked over to Wakaba's form on the hospital bed. She checked the machines, replaced the bags, before pulling out a syringe from her tray and began injecting its contents into the IV drip.

"What are you doing?"

The nurse doesn't stop her actions, even though she has already tensed up, ready to run. She relaxes slightly when she sees a foreign girl at the entrance of the room who couldn't be older than sixteen.

"Miss, visiting hours are over," the nurse says politely, taking out the syringe and putting it back onto her tray. "If you want to visit, please—"

The nurse is interrupted when she faints from a chop to the back of her neck. Neatly stepping over her body, Aigis unhooks the bag from the drip and opens it, taking a tentative sniff before decisively detaching it and ringing the bell for another nurse.

Later, as the nurse has been dragged away for interrogation, Aigis sits next to Wakaba while on the phone.

"Yes, Mitsuru-senpai… It seems like there are at least a few people aiming for her life… Yes, don't worry. I won't let anyone get in the way of the first clue that we've had to Minato in years."

Chapter Text

Is this fair, Akechi wonders under his crystal-focus, his analytical calm. Is this fair when I just met you?

His leg burns and his ribcage hurts so much that he can't breathe properly, but Akechi continues to climb, mechanically putting one foot before the other as he climbs crumbled stairs. It's not the worst that he's needed to walk through, and it won't be the last.

His mind is oddly muted, and in that silence is clarity.

He clears another flight of stairs, and another dark square of red light shines into his face before he leaves it behind. The gnarled city below has become a black silhouette leading to a dimmed horizon as he steps upwards. Still, he climbs.

Shido, after all, lives on the forty-second floor.

It is only when he's reached the forty-first, and the stairway has well and truly become blocked does Akechi stand in front of the window, glancing out. It is then that for the first time this evening does one of his Personas speak.

What is your goal?

"To kill Shido," Akechi replies blandly, checking the gun that he had slid into his belt earlier in the evening before swinging himself up out the window. It's with a clinical, calculating efficiency in mind that he judges the next move to get the balcony above him.

He knew, he knew Morrigan would try to stop him, for she is born as much from Minato's bond as himself. Minato had always believed in him more than he himself did.

Murder is the solution of a killer, Morrigan says, sure enough. Robin Hood sends waves of sadness over him, waves that sometimes threaten to feel like they're choking him, like the air is too thick to breathe. Only when parties uphold the rules and honour does violence transform into battle, Morrigan continues, her voice as gentle as he's ever heard it. The difference between a murderer and a soldier is as thin as a knife. Over a corpse, a soldier only maintains his status as a soldier when he fights for ideals greater than he. For family, for country, for love… for a better future. The moment any kills another for selfish purpose is the moment one transforms into a murderer.

Her voice has a sad tinge to it, and Akechi is momentarily distracted as he hauls himself up yet another step. Only three more paces and he's there, clambering onto Shido's Metaverse balcony, gun in his hand.

A murderer. That's an apt term for what he was – twisted by an obsession so deep he didn't attempt to justify his actions even to himself. In the past, shadows fell in front of his gun with no remorse. He had watched them disintegrate, mind already calculating how to twist this case into something sellable for his Detective Prince image. He would visit the families of those he killed afterwards and provide hypocritical sympathy in the guise of effective investigation.

"Thank you," they would say through tears. After he's placated them and shown enough concern, they would say 'please bring them to justice' or 'you're very kind', and Akechi would merely take the details he needs for the next news interview and go.

Akechi scrolling down his computer screen, when he was still tracing the Phantom Thieves of Hearts at Shido's urgent command. A question he wanted to ask.

Isn't it hypocritical, Akira, to believe in the beauty of humanity and change only to forcibly steal their hearts?

Akira's thrilled smirk in the heat of battle, his confident walk as he waved for them all to follow. Akira's more muted expressions in the real world, shuttered as he observed the world in silent acquiescence. Akira, who never judged and had ever acted consistently on one matter; his helping hand to anyone he sees in need. Akechi already knows the answer if he had ever asked it.

Akira, tilting his head. That someone remorseful is left after we steal treasures is proof that there's beauty in everyone, Akechi.

Akechi, who had never regretted his decisions before watching Akira's wild, steadfast heart.

He hated him. For his kindness, his powers, for being the unwavering hero he could not help but admire.

(If only—)

A second chance. He'd grasped that phrase hoping that he could erase his past, and he thinks that he did quell the rage for the past few months. He does not face kindness with as much apathy as before. Akechi finds enough of himself to enjoy sweets when he can, steals Atsuzawa's share of cookies from an indulgent Naho. He watches children laughing on the street and doesn't wish for silence, he tutors his classmates and is starting to somewhat see that their benign lives are a sort of blessing. He delves into Mementos not to feed his resentment, but to laugh at Wakaba's efforts to create a Persona of her own.

He has been learning these past few months. He is starting to see what all the others in his life saw so easily.

He thinks, in a sense, he'd been happy.

(Shido's smirk of satisfaction, that sigh. Fingers plaited together as he leaned back in his leather chair.

"There you go.")

He remembers Wakaba with her cheeks cut from her shattered glasses, a leg broken the wrong way, third-degree burns all along her side that glimmer from the flames in blood. She's reaching out to him, only to smile.

"Thank you," she said, for an effort that meant nothing.

Akechi breaks the lock of the balcony door, opening it wide. Stagnant air billows out until pressure equalises and he's there, staring past curtains to the intact interior of Shido's office. Bookshelves line the walls, his floor to ceiling windows are right next to him, overlooking empty wasteland.

Really, wasn't this the most logical decision if he wished to change the future? Why hadn't he done this before?

There's a quiet hum of mourning that comes from Morrigan's resolute figure in his mind.

Wakaba's blood is still flaking off his hands.

And Akechi laughs at the irony of a killer trying to stain themselves white. It never works, does it? In all stories, killers will always have to repay their karma in the end.

"I'm already a murderer," Akechi says, and steps into the darkness of the apartment.

It only takes a few steps. Then he's there, behind Shido's large leather seat, still slanted in the direction of the fire. He cocks the gun and raises it right where he knows Shido's head would be. Two inches up, a steady hand, and it'll go straight from the back of his head through his brain.

One second. All it takes.

He pulls out his phone, unlocking it. Right when his thumb is going to tap the app, he hears a voice he has long unheard.

Robin Hood's gentle rumble. He only says one word.

Hope.

And Akechi freezes.

Akechi later finds himself laying on one of the couches in the foyer. Shido hasn't bugged the actual building itself yet, and Akechi is too tired to deal with the acting he knows he must do the moment he enters his home.

It's two in the morning, and it's completely dark save for the moonlight shining through the double glass doors. It casts a pearly white shine on everything it touches, and Akechi dips his fingertips on the strand that reaches closest to him. His eyes have adjusted enough that he can see tiny effervescent dust motes floating, and he makes a small game of twisting his fingers slowly to catch them. They sit, glimmering against the whorls of his fingers.

There's a small toilet on the first floor which he had taken advantage of, and most of the dust, smoke and blood that was clinging to his skin has been wiped off. His burnt coat lies next to him, Wakaba's laptop and phone wrapped in it.

His silence lasts until grey dawn light weakens the darkness, and a lone figure unlocks the doorway.

"Oh, is someone there?" Saito's surprised voice rings softly around the foyer. She switches on the dim lights, eyes immediately taking in Akechi's form on the couch.

He knows what he looks like, but Akechi is too tired to care if she starts viewing him as a delinquent or not. He's prepared for questions and harsh words – the private schools that use Saito's building have strict regulations – and he's about to heave himself out and salvage his image later when the tips of Saito's cloth shoes enter his vision.

He slowly looks up, only to see a warm, sympathetic smile on her face.

"It looks like you had a terrible night, dear," she says, standing close but not impolitely so. She bows her hunched shoulders a little, and it's a common tactic Akechi knows to use, to make herself seem smaller. Less intimidating. "I don't want to assume, but would you like to join me for a cup of tea?"

Akechi blinks in confusion.

"I was gifted a box of tie guan yin tea the other week, and it's still unopened," Saito continues, smile undeterred. "I make a good cup of tea if I do say so myself. Although it might be a bit strong for the morning…" She trails off with faint concern in her face before it spreads back into a wide smile when she sees Akechi nod. "Wonderful, Akechi-kun! Do you wish for me to bring you a cup here? You're welcome in my office if you want to find a space a bit more private. I can also help you up to your room and leave a cup there. I truly don't mind."

"…Your office would be appreciated, Saito-san."

"My office it is. Wait a second, I have to unlock it."

She slowly putters off and unlocks her office, the snick of the door unlocking oddly sharp in the air between them. Saito opens the door and waves him in, and Akechi forces his creaking body to follow her. The laptop and phone wrapped in his burnt and bloodied coat is left unquestioned by Saito when he places it on her table corner.

In a few minutes, he finds himself seated, a cup of warm tea in his hands. A rich aroma fills the room, and the sharp taste of the tea shocks Akechi awake.

"There are milder versions," Saito is explaining as she gingerly manoeuvres herself into her own chair, settling down, "but I like brewing it strong. An old habit of mine," she chuckles, looking truly unperturbed as she doesn't draw her blinds up as she usually does, only twisting the rod so they can see out the slats without anyone looking in.

"Are you not going to ask any questions, Saito-san?" Akechi asks, mind clearer after sipping half a cup. The little old woman in front of him has found a pair of knitting needles and a ball of bright red yarn, already casting it on.

"Only unless you want me to, Akechi-kun," Saito replies amiably, purling her second row. Her fingers fly fast, and Akechi watches as the second row is quickly completed, and she begins the third one. "I've never been one to push," she laughs.

"Would you mind a sensitive question?"

"Of course not, Akechi-kun," she says, smile sincere. "Ask away."

"Saito-san, do you think that some people deserve death?"

Akechi hadn't inserted any particular tone of concern or inquisitive energy into it. His voice is bland, and that may be why it takes a few seconds for Saito to fully register the question. Her knitting pauses as she looks up at Akechi before she looks down again.

"Oh my, Akechi-kun. That is quite a question so early in the morning," Saito replies, tone still as warm as before. "There are many horrible people out there, and as much as I've seen, I bet there are worse… Hmm."

"As much as you've seen?" Akechi repeats.

"If you don't mind an old woman's tales," Saito says with a soft laugh, "I used to be a social worker before I retired, specifically in child protection. You see quite a bit in a field like that," she continues with an edge of sorrow as her fingers continue to fly, completing another row in a few seconds. "We fail many of our young, whether it be because of personal failing, social pressure, or otherwise. I was a social worker for many years, and now I volunteer at the hospital at the informational centre to help spread awareness of what you can do if you're abused, or if you're in trouble. While I'm there, I like giving out some of the toys I knit to any family who wants them. I've gotten better over the years," she looks down at her knitting fondly.

"That's admirable, Saito-san," Akechi says. There's something unassuming in Saito's demeanour that had the unconscious tension that had been haunting him throughout the night to fade a little, and he drinks another mouthful of hot tea. It slides down his throat to sit warm in his stomach, and Akechi's beginning to realise how unkempt he still is.

He picks at the dried blood under his nails as he continues to listen.

"I've seen enough smart boys and girls to know euphemisms will never be enough for you, Akechi-kun." Saito says. "So I'll tell you something a little shocking to many who know me. It occurs a lot less, now that I'm old, but sometimes I still stumble on cases that make me horrified. A nine-year-old boy standing up to his father to protect his little sister, only to have his skull fractured and be never able to study again. A foster father who could only watch the child he loves going back to an abusive household because they want to use him for benefits…"

She trails off, taking a sip of her own tea. "Akechi-kun, I'm only saying this because I think you're the type to appreciate complete honesty." Saito pauses, selecting an ocean blue yarn to add to her knit, comparing the two colours together before nodding and meeting Akechi's eyes. "Personally, I see many people I think would be better off dead."

"…That does surprise me, Saito-san," Akechi replies. She looks like any genial grandma he's ever seen. It's also not the most socially acceptable answer in the world, and Saito laughs again in her creaky, airy way, her wisps of white hair catching golden sunlight that had started to creep through the edges of the room.

"I haven't finished yet. Those are just my personal feelings, Akechi-kun. However, from a societal point of view, I wish the opposite. Akechi-kun, won't you agree that the both of us are human?"

"Of course," Akechi replies, and Saito nods.

"Don't all humans make mistakes?"

"…Yes."

"In Japan, we're proud of being a civilised people," Saito says, putting down her knitting when she notices that Akechi's cup is empty and pours him another cup. The scent of Chinese tea once again fills the room, and Saito takes a deep breath in with a satisfied sigh. "Civilisation is just another fancy way of saying 'we've learnt how to live with each other'. As a society, we've grown laws and regulations that are there to help stop us from committing mistakes that'll hurt the people around us. No matter how hard we try to be, we aren't islands, Akechi-kun."

"Yes," Akechi murmurs, thinking of the envy that he'd watched Akira, the epicentre of the laughs, jibes, and jokes of the Phantom Thieves. "No matter how hard you try, people inherently wish to belong."

"We all crave for somewhere to belong," Saito agrees, eyes sympathetic. "And there are many in the world who would take advantage of that. Gangs, delinquents, families… It falls to us, ordinary people like you and me, to uphold a society where all people feel comfortable to belong to, doesn't it?"

For some reason, that question, asked in such a soothing manner. There's something overwhelming there, that Akechi has never heard in his life. Outcasts, all of them – a side thought to society, never enough to overcome the prejudices that came with tags like orphan, homeless, poor, bastard.

"That's why although I may sometimes think very unsavoury things about certain people, I don't want them to happen. I'm a human, and I have biases. I make mistakes, and I don't understand many things. I have beliefs, but these beliefs may not necessarily be right for everyone, for every time. I don't want to live in a society where life and death are handed out by the sole judgment of someone like me, no matter how personal or hurt I am."

Akechi cannot find enough of himself to meet Saito's eyes.

"Not many people can have that strength, Saito-san."

Saito hums in front of him. He hears the slight clicking of her knitting needles again, and Akechi observes the ripples in the teacup he's holding. "When I was your age, I didn't have it either," Saito replies, calming. "See how long-winded my response was? That's probably how many years it took for me to find my answer. I look forward to what yours will become in the future," she says with a slight air of cheer.

"Saito-san," Akechi finds himself saying after he finishes his second cup of tea. "I nearly lost someone last night, and I nearly… I'm not…"

Dozens of families, disbelieving, teary-eyed.

"Thank you for investigating the mental shut-downs, Akechi-kun."

"You won't let Itsumi be forgotten, right?"

"You're the only one truly investigating the cases. Thank you, Akechi-kun. Thank you…"

Saito adjusts the small spectacles on her face, and for the first time she pointedly takes in the picture Akechi represents. The bloodied clothing, the jacket wrapped around something unknown, Akechi's own dishevelment. Then she leans forward.

"Akechi-kun, no matter what you were, what I've been seeing for the past few months is a pleasant boy who greets his classmates every morning with a smile. He's a scholarship student from a prestigious private school with glowing recommendations from his teachers. Akechi-kun, no matter what you saw yesterday, no matter what anyone tells you, if you want to change, you can. One of the greatest beauties of humanity is their capacity for change."

Saito blinks before she puts a hand over her mouth to hide laughter. "That's another thing, isn't it? No matter what I think about a person, who am I to deny them a chance to change later on in their life?"

Another conversation, a similar conclusion.

Change.

Akira flashes into his mind, and Akechi can't help but cover his eyes with an empty laugh.

"Do you think I can change, Saito-san?"

Her answer is immediate.

"Of course you can, Akechi-kun. And if I'm surmising correctly, you," she says with infinite kindness, "already have."

Akechi sits there for a while longer before he presses his sleeve more heavily on his eyes. Once he's sure he's more presentable, he looks straight at Saito.

"Saito-san, you're delivering toys and goods to the hospital today, right? Would you allow me to help after I refresh myself a little?"

"Oh, you don't need to, Akechi-kun!"

"No, it's my pleasure," Akechi insists. It's the weekend anyway, and when Saito is reminded of the date, she accepts his offer with a helpless smile. Akechi quickly collects his jacket and Wakaba's computer, heading up to his room. The curtains are drawn tightly shut when he stows the computer and phone under his mattress, and he takes a quick shower before changing his clothes.

With his hair brushed, clothing ironed and immaculate, he feels a lot more like himself. Heading back downstairs, his smile is back in place when he greets a few early risers going out for a morning jog.

Saito is there, a heavy bag in hand like he'd observed she was prone to do every weekend, and Akechi smoothly takes it from her.

"Before we leave, Akechi-kun," Saito says as they head out the doorway together into the morning sunlight. "I just wanted to say you're always welcome for a tea and a chat."

Akechi can't help but laugh disbelievingly. Not many people would enjoy being sprung with a debate on the worth of life by an emotionally unstable teenager at five in the morning, but Saito bears it with her kind smile.

"Really," she insists, a hint of stubbornness in her expression.

Akechi hesitates, before nodding.

The world freezes.

The bond settles warmly as they head down the street together, Saito filling the air with benign chatter, occasionally interrupted by greeting other stall-holders and elderly out appreciating the morning.

Akechi breathes in. The smell of something frying, the sweet smell of bread from the bakery around the corner. Coffee wafts from somewhere, and joggers occasionally pass by them in various states of fitness.

And the world goes on.

Akechi properly boots up Wakaba's computer when he gets back, having dumped his clothing into the washer for now.

Ignoring any blatantly personal files, he goes through the research, folder by folder.

Wakaba had known far more than he anticipated. Even before Mementos, she had been sending papers, theories, research on subconscious events, Palaces, cognitive distortions, Shadows, ways to blur the line between reality and the Other Side…

After he had started diving with her, her research volume had only increased exponentially. The volume of it all – edited, unedited, still unsent or not, was frankly a little terrifying.

Even though she had always presented herself as casual and unassuming, she truly was a genius.

Akechi clicked through it all, noting which papers she had sent to Shido, what critical information he had to get right when he pauses.

Right at the end. A folder only recently made.

[SNEK-BOI RESEARCH]

He clicks on it, and there's only one pdf file inside. When he opens it, the first page is a greeting.

Well, started making this after I realised people were after my life. I've deleted all other traces of this file anywhere else, so don't worry about this being public info, Goro. Sorry for being stupid and not believing you before – I might have given way more information to Shido than you might have wanted him to know. Sorry. You'll know what I gave him – it's right here on this laptop. If you're reading this, it probably means I didn't delete this message before I gave this file to you… which probably means I'm gone. Whoops. Uh, sorry about that.

Edit: man this message sucks letters are hard. this is why my japanese teacher hated me right

Edit: IM SO SLEEP DEPRIVED AAAAAAAAA

Edit: OMFG I ACTUALLY FINISHED IT IM A GENIUS

When he scrolls down the next page, he finds the formula for COMA AGENT and REAWAKENING AGENT. Next to each agent are the chemical names, the normal name, a few suppliers that provide it, and strangely enough, a picture of the bottle.

But that's not all.

There's SLEEPING AGENT (normal), HEALING AGENT (for deep wounds), HEALING AGENT (coagulant), POISON (kinda i mean shadows look woozy when i chuck it at them), and a few other things he's seen Wakaba using here and there, like LIGHT GRENADE (one use) and FREEZING AGENT (description below). The list continues with things he can see will become useful as Akechi keeps scrolling, where at the very end there's another note.

So if I'm dead dead, then you probably have to buy them yourself. Some of them are pretty expensive, but the suppliers I listed are fair, and they're usually quite discreet. Shido doesn't seem the type to care about lowly suppliers so they should be safe, right?

Otherwise, if I'm not dead dead, like coma dead, or brain dead, I've already said in my will that I'm to be kept on life support even if I have no chance of recovery. You wanna know why?

Type my name in the Mementos App and visit my Shadow's room! You'll get it. Take it as a really expensive gift. I have no idea who is a sellout in my lab nowadays, so I'm just gonna give it to you. You're a smart guy, you know what to do. If you've done all the mysterious everythings you needed to do and I'm still a vegetable, tell Futaba to let me go.

Okay. Cool. Dealio.

Stay safe, kiddo.

otherwise, if I'm alive make a note to delete this cos this is embarrassing dear lord

There's nothing else in his schedule for now except for some catch-up work for Atsuzawa and some general homework he can do any time for the next week. After immediately backing up the pdf file into a personal USB, he finishes his laundry before entering Mementos. He wanders down the wide tunnels to Wakaba's room.

There, Wakaba's Shadow. She's lying in the middle of the room, fainted. Its outline is wavering but still clinging on, and Akechi sweeps his eyes to the side.

Set next to a wall to the left are three extendable tables already folded out. One holds stacks of coloured, labelled bottles, the second a rather sophisticated chemistry set with instructions on the side, and the third table held all kinds of miscellaneous tools, for measurement or otherwise. There's a chair and a bright lamp that's connected to a generator next to it, and Akechi stands in front of the tables struggling to comprehend.

It's high enough in Mementos that he has never seen the Reaper. Having access to different powers, being able to heal himself (no matter how limited), being able to replenish the drugs that he is using to trick Shido in secret is absolutely game-changing.

He goes to Wakaba's Shadow who is still lying awkwardly on the floor and carefully straightens her out, lying her down on her back, hands to her side. As a finishing touch, Akechi carefully places the glasses that had fallen onto the floor back onto the Shadow's face.

He hopes she wakes up soon. There are still many things that he wants to say to her.

Wakaba Ishikki – Fortune Rank 10

As much as he wishes to monitor the situation, he doesn't know where Wakaba's body is. He's visited hospitals as discreetly as he could, but either Wakaba has died (which she hasn't – her Shadow is still there, asleep), or Minato's group has whisked her somewhere so safe he has no access to.

The most concerning thing is that he tried to find Futaba Ishikki at Wakaba's old residence – a modern apartment in a middle-class neighbourhood – and found no-one.

Futaba is not at Sojiro Sakura's residence, nor is she at LeBlanc. He only sees Sojiro Sakura with a grieved look on his face, having closed the café for a few days after Wakaba's tragedy.

Futaba Sakura's profile flashes through his mind. After killing Wakaba Ishikki in his first life, Futaba Sakura had been passed through a few uncaring relatives before landing in Youji Ishikki's hands. There, she had been abused and neglected until Sojiro Sakura noticed the issue and forced the transfer of her custody. However, she had already developed enough psychological guilt and trauma by then that her troubles had stopped her from realising the theft of her mother's research and belongings in time to enact any effective measure to track them down.

He's already subtly warned Wakaba about her brother Youji before. Wakaba had said she wrote that Futaba would go straight to Sojiro Sakura in the event something happened.

What happened?

It's almost a relief by the end of the week when Shido summons Akechi to an elegant traditional Japanese restaurant, having obviously just finished an important meeting. He's loosening his tie as Akechi sits politely in seiza in front of him, the table between them being cleared by efficient waitresses. The moment the paper door slides shut is the moment where Shido's frown is directed at him.

"You did what I asked?" Shido asks roughly, tone impatient. Akechi nods.

"Yes, Shido-san. I've verified that Wakaba Ishikki's Shadow is still holding on, even if she's not awakened yet."

"Not awakened from her coma yet," Shido replies, low. "Then where is she?"

"Your guess is as good as mine," Akechi replies as he connects at least one unanswered question.

To erase Wakaba so completely only means Minato's friends found the cause to do so. Shido hadn't stopped trying to kill her – but now seeing even Shido had lost track of her, she must be safe. He's honestly relieved.

"May I ask what you're going to do next regarding Wakaba Ishikki, Shido-san? Is there anything I can help with, barring reports upon the state of Ishikki's Shadow?"

Shido looks at him from the corner of his eye as he hums, drawing his brows together.

"Have an uncommon interest in this case, Akechi?"

Akechi curls his lips into the friendliest smile he has, replying seriously. "Of course, Shido-san. Having more Metaverse research in your hands means we can progress our experimentation faster, right?"

"Heh," Shido smirks. "I guess it does no harm to tell you what we're going to do next. We already have a statement from a doctor saying she's incapacitated long-term. I've bought her lawyer off years ago, and he's successfully convinced one of Ishikki's witnesses to look over certain things we've changed in her will for benefits of his own. We'll do the will reading tomorrow with the witness that's on our side, claiming the other witness missed the call to be there."

Wakaba's two witnesses – Sojiro and one of the researchers in her lab. Her lawyer, Shido's agent since years ago.

No wonder they had the power to change her will.

Akechi puts a hand to his chin in thought, frowning, pretending that he was pondering over a question.

"Doesn't Ishikki-san have a daughter? I would've thought most of her will would be dedicated to her."

Shido smiles. "It's fine. We've gotten her out of the way for the time being."

Akechi pauses, before pasting an ingratiating smile on his face.

"Shido-san, your preparations hold a strong combination of foresight and careful planning. It is as impressive as ever."

The flattery obviously works, as Shido's expression lightens a little into smugness. A few more tasks later, Akechi quietly retreats out of the room, putting on his shoes as he steps back into the corridor.

The next day, he begs Naho to teach him how to use the civilian databases.

He notes down as many of Wakaba's extended family as he can.

It is his fourth try, and he's in a shadier neighbourhood than he expected. It's after dinner time, and the apartments are bright with people commencing their nightly activities as they wound down from the day. Akechi has to be super careful as he phases into the Real World by a fire-escape well-hidden by shadow.

The first thing he notices is yelling. Through the window, he sees the back of a mature woman who is flailing her arms angrily. Pressing his ear to the window, he can hear the words.

"How dare you, you smart-mouthed brat! You don't get to eat dinner with us today. Go to your room! No wonder your ma always complained about what a pain you were whenever we met…"

"My mom would NEVER SAY THAT, TAKE THAT BACK!"

There's the sound of a slap, and he sees a flash of Futaba Ishikki's long orange hair.

He's found her.

The woman in front of Futaba continues her yelling. "You don't get breakfast either, for that! Your selfish mother didn't even think about giving any of her riches to us in her will, so remember that I'm not getting paid to take care of you! Go to your room!"

There's the sound of stomping feet before the room next to him fills with light followed by a loud door slam.

"I hate them so much! Ugh, I didn't get money from them to buy lunch either… I'm so hungry…"

There are sounds of tears, and Akechi finds that he's clenching his fists hard. His fingernails are digging indents into his palms, and he slowly relaxes the clench of them. He's worn a black hoodie for his investigations for Futaba, something that he would never wear for his Shido persona. With a brief glance downwards, he musses his hair further, slouching like he never would. Then he nimbly jumps down and heads to the nearest convenience store.

He phases into the Metaverse for the act of climbing the fire-escape. There's only a certain section that's in shadow, and that's where he phases back out. His promise to Wakaba is ringing in his ears when he gently places the plastic bag on Futaba's small windowsill, giving the window a quick rap before swinging down the fire escape as discreetly as he could.

By the time he reaches a large dumpster, a figure disturbs the small square of light as Futaba's head pokes out the window, her face puffed up with a large red handprint. She squints around in suspicion until she sees the small bag of food on the corner of her windowsill.

She tentatively takes it with a confused frown, and Akechi is satisfied, taking his leave. He has homework to catch up with still, and Atsuzawa was going to come back from his trip to Yamaguchi soon. There is much he needs to do, and he adds Futaba Ishikki onto that list.

By the looks of it, he'll have to check in regularly.

Chapter Text

To say that she has been sitting vigilantly by the woman's bedside would be an understatement if you asked any of the doctors and nurses in the luxurious private hospital. The pair stood out – a heavily-injured Japanese woman with abnormal injuries and the young foreign girl that attended her. Soft blonde hair and clear blue eyes that were set in a beautiful face were an exoticism rarely seen, let alone the perfect Japanese that she spoke in a gentle voice.

"Does she eat?" One of the nurses' whispers in the break room. "Did she move from that spot since our last shift?"

"She definitely has, right? Or she'd be starving," replies her friend, whose eyes were glued to her phone, trying to catch up to a drama that she hadn't had time to watch lately. "And stop talking about them already, didn't the Head Nurse already warn you once not to gossip? They're VVIPs."

"Alright, alright," the first grumbles as she attends to her own sandwich, scrolling through entertainment news.

They had appeared a week ago and gone straight into intensive care, a team of specialist doctors buzzing in and out of the room while the Head Nurse cracked down on any rumours with an especially heavy hand. The only constant had been the faintly smiling teenager to the side who had insisted on never being separated from the patient, calm, firm, and strangely authoritative.

When the nurse finishes break and do her rounds again, she tries not to shiver when the girl turns her gentle smile on her.

"Is everything under control?"

"Oh, yes! Yes, Momoda-san is as stable as ever, Aigis-san."

"That's good," Aigis smiles in reply, a perfect curve. In the smile is an inexplicable alien feeling, as there were no wrinkles, no flaws, no quirks at all. Kindness in perfect symmetry.

The nurse manages a smile and scuttles away, and Aigis pays her no mind as she lets her smile fade. Her eyes rested on the figure on the bed in front of her.

Black hair with a hint of dark green in its reflective sheen, figure diminished by the white bedding and the machines hooked up to her. Wires twist out in various coils and spirals that lead to graphics that Aigis quickly learnt how to read. Once any number was even a point decimal out of the standard deviations that Aigis had set up, she would press a button that would have a doctor come running.

Wakaba Ishikki presented a conundrum.

No doubt she had been scouted as part of Kirijo's decades' long research ventures into the metacognitive possibilities when she was a graduate. Even after a decade, with Ishikki separating herself to start her own research centre, Kirijo had still flagged her name as a person of interest.

Once Mitsuru had taken over Kirijo – as much as she was able to, as even Mitsuru was locked out of Kirijo's darkest secrets – the original SEES had unanimously agreed to dedicate funds to a research team dedicated to reaching the Sea of Souls.

It's been seven years since then. Seven whole years. The research team discovered many secrets that bore no relation to reaching Minato at all. Generous funding, the top minds of the country, and not a shadow of the boy they all wished to see again.

Then the email that night, diverted straight to Aigis's inbox…

Wakaba Ishikki had not been in explicit contact with Kirijo Group for many years. Once she started her independent research, she had been inundated with offers for funding that even extended to the government. Her research quickly became confidential. Other than conferences, academic discussions and a healthy respect for one another, the two labs rarely intersected. That's why her emailed report had been such a surprise.

Agent XX2134, a mysterious drug that no-one in Ishikki's laboratory had heard of.

Reports of secretive and paranoid behaviour by Ishikki before the laboratory attack.

The report sent after the lab explosion like a call for help, and the multiple assassination attempts Aigis defended Ishikki from.

The 'consenting test subject' who took Agent XX2134 was likely the one who contacted Minato, learnt about SEES and sent the report to them in a bid to save Ishikki's life. To be used like this is a minor matter - Aigis will gladly do so until they track down where this 'test subject' was.

Not only did he meet Minato, but this 'test subject' is also the most likely candidate to hold all the research relating to Agent XX2134.

It's inexpressibly happy news, though knowing a stranger has met Minato before she did fills her with a burst of jealousy. It's a system log that she calmly accepts as she pulls out the memories and images she holds in her memory. Recordings play in her mind, watching the slight tilt of his smile whenever he saw the group laughing together, his patience with her when they went out on their outings. Their first meeting on the pier, his face surprised. His calm voice as he voiced out orders in Tartarus. The image of his back, always standing in front to protect them all.

If they found him… what would she even say?

I'm so happy to meet you after so long. I've searched for you all these years…

Minato cherished the friends that had helped him open up after a life haunted by death and tragedy. Aigis thinks of how empty the Sea of Souls was, the cold and the dark when they stepped away from the golden door that Minato was chained to, with his bowed head and blank eyes. Aigis replays that memory sometimes, when she is recharging and everyone she knows is quiet. She wants to trace that face and ask,

Have you been lonely?

She wants to say, I'm sorry I couldn't be there for you.

Sadness and determination are familiar emotions to her now. She breathes deeply past the system logs, training her eyes on the beeping heart monitor.

Although Minato's memories bring sadness, she is also grateful that Minato was still such a constant in her thoughts. Aigis sees it sometimes, in Yukari, in Junpei, as they grew and blossomed into the people they are now. They have put Minato behind.

It isn't that they don't care, Aigis knows. Minato is an irreplaceable part of their past. If Aigis or Mitsuru ever called for help to save him, they would gladly drop anything they're doing to help. They use Minato's sacrifice as their conviction to greet each morning with determination, to strive to always be the best they can be. And Aigis cannot deny that they have become great people, always living to inspire and create joy in the lives of others.

They were unlike Aigis, who is ultimately unchanging.

Perhaps it is the fault of her programming, of her wish and her goals. But every time she sees something beautiful, something new, she thinks 'Minato would like this'. Every time a new lifestyle fad or technological advancement came, she researched it to see how she could introduce it to him. Many things have changed since 2009, and she didn't want Minato to struggle or feel overwhelmed. Throughout the years, she has picked up hundreds upon hundreds of research papers that are carefully filed in her databases, so that ignorance can never be a valid excuse for failing to reach him.

In many ways, she has grown. Perhaps, she has even changed. But in others…

Mitsuru offered to upgrade her face and body to an adult version a few years back. There's a new body waiting in the labs the moment she decides she wants to change it.

But she doesn't want to. Not yet.

She does not want him to be lonely, after all.

"Aigis-san," a doctor steps in politely, a report in hand. Aigis stands up to receive her.

"Doctor," she bows. "What's the news?"

Aigis listens to the report with the utmost concentration, hiding any emotional reaction until the end. Receiving the report and allowing the doctor to return to her duties, Aigis takes out her phone. It connects quickly, and the no-nonsense tone of her friend on the other end disregards greetings to get straight to the point.

"What do you have for me, Aigis?"

"Ishikki-san will need to be kept under for three months, Mitsuru-senpai," Aigis replies, settling back into her chair. "Her head injury is more severe than expected – they'll assess every week whether her induced coma needs to continue, but they say it's better safe than sorry to prevent her brain from swelling."

There's a sigh on the other end. "So we'll need to wait until around New Year then," Mitsuru replies through a slight breeze that muffles her voice. She was in negotiations after all, in America, planning to catch up with Akihiko on the way back. Aigis would have joined them if the emergency hadn't kept her back. "Any luck finding the person who contacted us?"

"No, Mitsuru-senpai," Aigis says softly, tone strained with a little frustration. "I've scanned all footage available on the evening, and agents have asked around the neighbourhood for any accounts. Interviewing the laboratory members have only revealed that Ishikki-san was increasingly secretive as time went on, taking her equipment on frequent trips out the lab."

"Calm down, Aigis. There are definitely leads somewhere. Someone that night definitely saw who pulled Wakaba Ishikki from the laboratory. Even if we fail to track them down, waiting for Ishikki to wake up will also provide us with answers. We just need to persevere. I'll come back in ten days. Aigis, can I count on you until then?"

"Of course, Mitsuru-senpai. Please have a pleasant meeting with Akihiko-senpai."

There's a laugh. "Akihiko will be thrilled to hear this news, and I will be glad to share it. Maybe it will be enough for him to return to Japan for a time."

"That will be our hope," Aigis replies warmly. "I'll contact you immediately if there are any changes."

"Goodbye, Aigis."

The call cuts, Mitsuru as efficient as always, and Aigis continues to access the reports that her agents have been sending back to her. There is nothing new – none of them has found where Wakaba's missing equipment and research is. Tracking her previous movements have been surprisingly difficult. She paused on a particular line.

[…initial signs point towards the Government as the most likely faction directing the assassinations against Ishikki-san.]

Aigis grows solemn when she reads the line. Governments were always tricky beasts to manoeuvre, with large, well-backed players and deep history. As a corporation, Kirijo had to be doubly careful dealing with government issues, just in case they breach federal law. This is not news that Mitsuru would enjoy hearing.

The large television in the room she had turned on to pretend she was occupied switches to the news, blue light washing through the room. The news announcer has a large smile on her face as she shuffles the notes on her table.

"And onto other news, politician Masayoshi Shido has declared he's officially instated as one of the prime candidates running for Prime Minister in the next election, a choice made with great support from his party. In his speech, he has promised that he focus will not change, looking to improve welfare and tackling the issue of Japan's aging population…"

Family wasn't Akechi's topic of choice, generally speaking. Let alone the common varieties of pity and sudden awkwardness that ensued whenever Akechi admitted he was brought up in an orphanage, adults have ignored him often enough after learning his mother was a prostitute for him to quickly learn what people sought in conversation wasn't truth. They sought common experiences that people can connect with, and family was apparently one of the easy foundations that everyone was supposed to implicitly understand. In the past, he had quickly learnt to lie when it didn't matter.

Mother? Of course he had one, she was an office worker who often travelled abroad. Father? Well, you know how corporate life is, he tries his best for the family. Siblings?

At that question, Akechi would bring a hand to his chin, thinking back to his mother and the pills she would never skimp on even when they were living off two-week-old vegetables. His mother, obsessed with birth control.

"No, I'm an only child," he would laugh, and that would usually invite any half of the group who had siblings to mockingly groan.

"You're lucky," they'd say.

That was the general theme, Akechi found. Siblings were usually referred in varieties of "I love them, but you know," accompanied by an eye-roll or an exasperated laugh. Akechi never really knew, but he'd nod and laugh alongside the rest of the others anyway.

"If you had a sibling, who would you want?" A whimsical girl had asked him once, eyes resting on the drifting clouds. Her voice was wistful when she continued. "I don't have one, but I want an older brother who cares for me and isn't gross and yucky." Akechi, sitting next to her and freshly twelve, had refrained from frankly shooting her down with a 'that's impossible, you idiot'.

"I don't really know," Akechi had replied instead, before going back to carefully colour his picture.

It still holds true now.

Family. What is it, anyway? Solidarity? Obligation?

There was a case once, that he had been merely assisting with. It was an inheritance case gone to court, Sae frowning as she directed the proceedings carefully as this was a high-profile case. It was a messy affair – a wealthy father, and the uncertain details in his will as to who would get a vast resort. Despite reports of the two sisters grown up close, the police had to be called after reports of assault, where the two of them had mutually scratched and punched each other after a violent argument. Akechi tended the scene as Sae's replacement, watching the drama with detached eyes. It was obvious that one of the sisters had been more broken up about it than the other.

"We're family," one had cried. The other spat at her feet.

"You wouldn't be trying to rob me if we're truly family," the other hissed.

In truth, that's all sentiment boils to, really. He has watched too many families break down at the mere mention of money, loyalty flown to the wind at a whisper of personal benefits. Venturing down into Mementos, Akechi would pass rooms of Shadows, bemoaning their family members, wishing they were better, more understanding, less embarassing...

Perhaps he would end his musings on siblings and family here, if it wasnt for another encounter that had stuck with him, all these years. It was an old memory. Much, much older.

In the second week of being shoved into his first orphanage, he remembered he had been roomed with fifteen other children. In the bunk next to his were a pair of siblings, a boy and a girl. Every night when the light switched off, the boy would immediately climb up the bunk bed to curl up alongside his little sister and stay there until morning, where he would swing back down again.

A few days later, the brother started a fight.

"No!" He'd yelled, swinging his fists against the caretaker, who had an annoyed expression on her face, trying to twist his body out of her hold. "Hana! Where are you taking Hana!"

"This is why that foster parent didn't choose to take you too," the caretaker grumbled, hauling him up and smacking him. "Stop being violent and listen for once. Your sister is going to a better place. You should be happy for her."

Out the window where Akechi was sitting, he saw a car and a couple that was pulling a little girl away. "Sen nii-chan," he heard, warped from tears before the door slammed shut behind her. The foster parents drove off, and all the sound that was left was the brother's continued tantrum.

The brother hadn't given up. He was hauled back by policemen time and time again for escaping the premises, he broke into the head caretaker's office countless times to try and find where they had placed his little sister.

Once, when Akechi was locked in the punishment room with him and staring in the darkness was getting too boring, he'd asked:

"Why do you keep trying?"

The brother, the hot-headed type that Akechi usually disliked associating with, had replied with a derisive "Huuuuh? What're you talking about?"

"The escaping thing," Akechi replied, matter-of-fact. "Your efforts have been going nowhere for weeks. What you're doing is pointless."

The boy sniffed. "Reaching Hana isn't pointless! I made a promise to her," he had replied, voice bright and loud in the dark room. "That I'll always be there for her when she's scared! If I don't keep that promise, who's gonna?"

Akechi turned his head to examine the profile of the boy next to him, scruffy short hair, bitten nails and all. The other boy didn't seem to mind that Akechi was studying him like an especially interesting bug because he didn't stop talking.

"Hana is three years younger than me," the brother told Akechi in the tiny punishment room, elbows sometimes missing Akechi's nose by a few millimetres as he enthusiastically swung them around. "She's scared of a lotta things. I used to tease her a lot. Like, who's scared of the dark, and bugs, and swimming, and heights, and ghosts? That's basically everything. But since mama died, we're all we have left, so I chase ghosts away with my Sen Ghost-buster Punch! I squish bugs with my foot, and I walk close to the edge when we cross bridges." In a quieter voice, he added, "Hana has a lot of nightmares, you know? How… how is she sleeping without me there?"

Akechi absorbed this as he stared at the seam of the window, where a tiny ray of sunlight sometimes shone through.

"Did you know the office is unlocked when the caretaker is with a foster parent?" Akechi says. "I'm joining a group of other kids to get interviewed at noon tomorrow. You weren't selected, were you? Miturashi-san doesn't like you enough to let them meet you."

Akechi feels the boy's gaze on the side of his face, and he wraps his arms around his knees to protect himself from it, interlocking his fingers.

"Meetings usually last an hour," he adds.

The other boy's growing smile is obvious. "You're Akechi, right? Thanks! Wanna play a clapping game?"

Akechi didn't particularly want to, but he played it anyway until they were finally let out of the room for dinner. He never knew what happened to Sen. He had been selected the next day, selected by his first foster parent, who had threatened him to get perfect marks in every subject for the sake of her reputation.

'We're all we have left.'

The bloodied cheek of the sister through tears. 'We're family.'

Wakaba's last request. 'Take care of Futaba?'

As Akechi smoothly goes down the math questions on his worksheet, listening to the teacher drone on about derivatives, he hums.

What strange sentiments to think about now.

Its late night when he sneaks out again in his black hoodie, climbing the fire-escape and shifting into reality. There's no-one around, the only witness an old dog through an open window across the way, lazy enough to open an eye before it lays its head back onto its paws to fall asleep on the cool tile of a bathroom. When he reaches Futaba's floor, he's amused to see that Futaba has placed last night's plastic bag on the windowsill with all of yesterday's trash tied tightly inside. He obligingly takes it and replaces it with the new bag he'd bought tonight instead.

Akechi doesn't know how much Futaba usually eats, nor does he know how much food Futaba's family had given her for the day, so he decided to play it safe.

Were six onigiri and two dinner sets too much?

The bag needs to be balanced more carefully than last time as it's much heftier. When he knocks the window this time, he immediately hears faint footsteps rushing to the window. This time, he barely clears the fire-escape before needing to flatten himself to the wall before the window flings open.

"Hah! Reveal yourself…? Wait, they're already gone? What?"

The shadow of Futaba's head twists to the left and right, trying its best to scan the area while Akechi stealthily taps the Metaverse app in his hand. When all the lights on the street blink out, he takes the steps back up two at a time to see if Futaba Ishikki has been pulled in with him.

The room he peers into is empty, and Akechi blinks.

No, apparently not. Perhaps Futaba can only be pulled in by Akira?

Akechi shrugs, chucking the bag of trash into a half-crumbled garbage bin on the wayside before entering Mementos.

Morrigan's suit of armour moulds onto his body when he sees the first shambling Shadow. He doesn't even need to try anymore – Morrigan's armour is sharp in unexpected places, and a pointed kick to a Shadow's chest or head allows him to lodge the tip of his sharpened sabatons straight into their body. Usually, he would use momentum to slam the Shadow into the floor and finish them there if their figure isn't too big. If they are big, he would wrench his foot out of their flank and rip Morrigan's mask off while dodging their retaliating attack. An Eigaon usually finishes the trick, and the Shadow dissolves into the air.

It has become routine now, to clear out the levels of Mementos he can reach without being the Detective Prince. Morrigan is much stronger, and it's honestly great stress relief. He's worked up a pleasant amount of fatigue when he enters Wakaba's room.

Akechi has managed to set up something more comfortable in here. A folding screen separates a small section of the room where he's laid Wakaba's Shadow down on a sheet and he sits down in front of the workbench ready to try a new compound.

Stirring fifty ml of water and mixing some potassium into it to start, Akechi allows himself to think about his promise as he carefully measures out the ratios in Wakaba's instructions for more volatile chemicals. Beakers are bubbling soon enough, and he's settling back with a cup of tea. His eyes wander to the folding screen hiding Wakaba's Shadow.

Before he has fully confirmed the status of both Futaba and Sojiro in the eyes of Shido, he isn't going to risk any action yet.

Last time, Shido had used more energy than necessary to crush Futaba Sakura. With his knowledge of Shido, it's probably because of sheer pettiness.

Wakaba Ishikki, in his previous life, had tried to use her knowledge to take him down. That sort of rebellious action would be unforgivable in Shido's eyes, but since she's dead, there's no one to vent that anger upon… except for her existing family.

Seeing Wakaba's daughter suffer probably gave Shido his poetic justice.

It's not as if Wakaba had angered him any less this time around with Akechi's intervention, so he's given himself a week, until the next time Shido contacts him. In their next exchange, Akechi is going to ascertain the situation – and if he can, alert Sojiro Sakura about Futaba's current situation.

A week is not a short amount of time, but he can support Futaba until then. Futaba's current caretaker is not Youji Ishikki – it's a nondescript aunt. It was not until Youji that Futaba experienced abuse more than neglect.

They can hang on for that much time.

It's sheer coincidence that Akechi manages to listen into a conversation about Futaba. During their meeting, a man politely knocks on the door of Shido's room, opening it before pausing.

"My apologies, Shido-san. I will come back when you're not occupied."

"No, come in," Shido dismisses, waving a man with black hair and nondescript features inside. "This is Goro Akechi, someone involved in the Ishikki operation. Akechi, this is Fusa, one of my professional agents checking in on the situation. Report, Fusa."

Fusa and Akechi exchange nods and Akechi calmly listens as the agent reports what he was doing. Stealing the rest of Wakaba Ishikki's research is going smoothly, Fusa says. The traitor in Wakaba's lab has convinced the others that it's okay to sell Wakaba's research since they have been convinced that she's going to be out of commission for a very long time. The only one who protested – her research assistant – has been removed of his position and dismissed.

"Otherwise, one of her witnesses complained that he wasn't at the will reading, but he has been shut down by the lawyer."

Shido is smiling at the end.

"So the only other person who has claim is her daughter," Shido leans back in his chair. "Has the daughter shown any signs of knowing any secrets that her mother might have told her? Has she been interested in getting her mother's assets or belongings?"

Akechi pretends to look through the lists that Shido gave him, ears open as he hears Fusa's reply.

"No. Under the care of her uncle and aunt, she seems to have stopped going to school and has not been seen for the past week. Additionally, her uncle and aunt are only interested in assets that have liquidity and have not expressed any interest or thought about Ishikki's research. They do not seem to listen to the daughter's requests for her mother's keepsakes."

"Good," Shido smiles. "Wakaba Ishikki is still out there somewhere. Maybe seeing her daughter suffer will lure her out a little more quickly. Keep monitoring her and the rest of them for the next few weeks. Make sure there are no changes until our operation is finished and we've covered our tracks."

"Yes, Shido-san."

Akechi passes the list to Shido. "Please don't stop on my account," his expression professional, smile benign. "I know what to do, so I'll take my leave, Shido-san." Pivoting on his heel and giving a polite bow to Fusa, he steps out.

He manages to stop by Yongen-Jaya on his way back to the dorm, winding his way through the aged street to Café Leblanc. Unsurprisingly, although other small shops and businesses were still open, the sign on the door was flipped to 'closed'.

The smell of steam filled the street as a bunch of old men stepped out of the bath-house, filling the street with uproarious laughter as Akechi politely stepped to the side, considering.

In the short-term, Futaba would definitely be safer with Sojiro Sakura. However, Sojiro wouldn't stop Futaba in investigating Wakaba's death, another avenue of danger he wants to avoid.

In the long-term, Futaba's custody would be safer if she was transferred after the 'few weeks' Shido needs to finish whatever operation he was planning with Wakaba's research and assets.

Akechi looked up into the night sky and sighed.

Yes, he can probably manage for a few weeks.

In the next two weeks, it's with a sense of rising horror and disgust at exactly how quickly things escalate.

By the time he handed in his history assignment on the first Friday of October, the first aunt had already kicked out Futaba to another address. It was good that Akechi even remembered her name, Maki Ishikki, because Naho had already been suspicious enough the first time he was taking so many notes searching the civilian databases.

In the depths of Mementos, too close to the seal barring the rest of the way, Maki Ishikki's Shadow prowled around a minuscule room, baring her teeth the moment Akechi raced inside.

"Another person looking to look down on me?" She hissed, before shaking her head and curling in on herself. "Poor me, poor me, poor me, stop looking at me like, like I'm less than you, I was forced to cheat, don't you see? He was always away, and I was so, so lonely."

"Forget that," Akechi snaps, standing in front of her. "Where's Futaba?"

"Lonely," the Shadow ignores him, yellow eyes darting around as she hugged herself tighter. "It's Autumn, it's cold… His eyes are so cold now, and he doesn't give me money anymore… How am I supposed to hold my head high next to my neighbours now?"

"Where is Futaba?" He repeats, temper already lost, fingers tracing the blades of Morrigan's mask.

"That girl," Maki mumbled, "smart-mouthed like Wakaba. Always looking down on us, that woman. She didn't even go to her mother's funeral, she declines to pay for our family meals even though she earns the most out of all of us. Had to teach her bastard brat a lesson. Even I had a proper family—"

Akechi pulls off his mask.

"Morrigan," his command cold. "Hell Fang."

Morrigan bursts out with vicious glee, already halfway through swinging her silver sword downwards as the Shadow doesn't even have a chance to transform, her face tanking the hit as she's flung straight into the wall. Akechi doesn't even bother hiding the satisfaction he feels as he strides forward, watching as she writhes in pain. Her hands fly to her face in horror.

"My face! My beautiful face! How can I get my husband to stay now?"

Akechi bends down, smile stretched wide. The quivering Shadow scrambles back in horror.

"My most sincere apologies, Ishikki-san," Akechi says, voice low. "You were in the middle of answering my question, weren't you? Please continue."

"Th-that abandoned brat? What's so special about her anyway—"

"Wrong answer."

The next Hell Fang has Maki Ishikki's Shadow blurring at the edges, and Akechi easily dismisses it. He knows, after all, just how long a Shadow can last under torture.

"Well?" He taps a playful finger to his chin while he trained his eyes on her, unblinking. "Where is she?"

The Shadow shudders in fear, before rattling an address all the way up Asakusa, and Akechi frowns. That isn't a distance he could easily run to.

"Couldn't even get enough money out of her," the Shadow mumbles, resorting to hugging herself and rocking back and forth. "Poor me, poor me, poor me, can't even buy that dress in store…"

Akechi leaves her to it, already calculating how often he could arrive at Asakusa naturally.

Perhaps, he narrows his eyes, not enough.

"Gotcha!"

There's a small hand that whips forward at the moment he tries to hook the bag onto the fire escape, and Akechi only manages to snatch his hand back barely in time as Futaba Ishikki half dives out of her open window. She manages to catch herself just barely, and Akechi manages to hide the half-aborted step forward to catch her.

Thankfully, it seems she's not athletic enough to wrestle herself up onto the fire-escape just because she can reach the corner.

When he's blindsided instead by a phone light in his face, Akechi is suddenly very thankful he wore a black facemask and had his hoodie pulled up. It's not as if he hasn't noticed the sneaky phone placements the past couple of days he could come the past week, and he immediately shifts his body posture – slouched, tensed, ready to run.

"No, no! Don't go!" Futaba pleads as he takes a step backwards. "I don't know who you are, but I just wanted to thank you!" Her long orange hair is too greasy again, black roots showing. The brief glimpse of the room beyond shows that this new uncle had taken away even her futon. The room is smaller than his own dorm room. She's sleeping on a half-folded blanket in the corner, obviously not allowed to shower.

So against his better judgment, Akechi stops and waves a hand for her to take the bag, gesturing her to look inside it.

"Dry shampoo?" Futaba exclaims happily, before digging through the rest. "You got me sweets and disposable spoons and stuff too! I really liked that curry rice last time."

Akechi gives her a jerky nod before he starts to move backwards again, and Futaba immediately flings the bag onto the floor behind her and lunges forward again. This time, she's nearly all out, only balanced by her legs still inside the room and the arm resting on the fire-escape. "Don't leave yet, I'm not finished!" She demands, and Akechi sighs.

Being careful to keep his head turned to the side, he carefully takes Futaba's wrists (too thin) and pushes her back into the room, before shaking her pathetically weak grip off.

There's a stubborn frown on her face when he steps back, and Akechi can't help but sigh again.

Perhaps this was somewhat inevitable, if this were to be their status quo for the next few weeks.

He holds up his phone, and unlocks it, before holding it up. Futaba squints against the light until she sees what he's pointing to.

"I built that app!" Is Futaba's first response, before she's scrambling backwards, probably to get her phone that she's just threw backwards.

Akechi takes the opportunity to run.

He doesn't get to run very far before his phone is ringing with nonstop notifications, and it's with a little bit of dread that he looks down and sees the scrolling messages that are firing nonstop. On the subway home, he manages to catch a seat and finally check what Futaba is sending.

[MadPscientist: I built this app for my mom, and her accounts have always been easy to hack]

[MadPscientist: You're literally the only person on her contact list]

[MadPscientist: It must be you! Mwehehe, now you can't escape.]

[MadPscientist: Wait a second I can probably do this can't I?]

[MadPscientist: I totally added this function, wait a sec.]

There's literally a timestamp of two seconds before MadPscientist added a friend into the chat, and kicked herself out.

[HoneyOTU: Typing as my mom feels… strange. So I'm going to do this instead!]

[HoneyOTU: Hello, mysterious stranger-kun, who is also obviously called GA! Thanks for the food, btw.]

[HoneyOTU: Wow, GA. Are those your initials?]

[HoneyOTU: Your naming sense is kinda boring, huh.]

[HoneyOTU: I'm not saying you're strange or anything tho.]

[HoneyOTU: Anyway, I just wanted to tell you that I have overcome my misgivings about how you might be a mysterious serial killer after you gave me pudding.]

[HoneyOTU: I'm not saying serial killers don't enjoy pudding, because I'm sure some do but that doesn't mean I think you're a serial killer]

[HoneyOTU: Oh no, I'm totally ruining this, aren't I? D:]

This is where the messages stop, and Akechi honestly debates a minute before he hesitantly taps on the chatbox.

[GA: Hello.]

[HoneyOTU: !]

[HoneyOTU: Hello, mom's uber mysterious friend! She mentioned you before, you know.]

[HoneyOTU: Like, not explicitly, but I picked it up when I was eavesdropping when she talked with Sojiro.]

[HoneyOTU: Mom is, I mean, she was pretty protective of me so she didn't like telling me a lot of stuff.]

Akechi reads the message, before creasing his brows in confusion.

[GA: Why are you referring to your mother in past tense?]

[HoneyOTU: …What do you mean]

[HoneyOTU: Mom is dead.]

[GA: No. Wakaba Ishikki, your mother and my associate, is still alive.]

[GA: Where did you hear that information?]

Those messages are marked as 'Read' without reply long enough that Akechi has enough time to get off the station and sneak back to his dorm room. It's only when he's arrived safely back into his room with the curtains drawn when her reply comes.

[HoneyOTU: If this is a joke, it's not funny.]

[GA: I am not joking. Wakaba Ishikki does not have a death certificate, and her will was only read because she has slipped into a coma. A clause in her will states that in any chance she is out of commission for more than a few weeks to start enacting her will.]

[GA: I cannot provide evidence you can't find yourself, Futaba Ishikki.]

[GA: Your mother boasted to me of your digital prowess.]

[GA: Do you need a more powerful device than your phone to access these documents I mentioned?]

[HoneyOTU: No. brb.]

It hasn't even been fifteen minutes – barely enough time for him to take a quick shower and tuck himself into bed – when Futaba replies back.

[HoneyOTU: …You're right. There's no death certificate. Everything's just marked extended absence. Is that why everyone stopped me from going to her funeral?]

[HoneyOTU: And wtf, why is she marked under a confidential file, and under that as a missing person?]

[HoneyOTU: Who are you? If you don't reply now, I'm going to hack your phone camera and your location before getting into your network and steal everything embarrassing you saved on your computer and post it all online.]

[HoneyOTU: Just see if I don't.]

[GA: Your mother assured me that this app was completely safe from even your attempts at hacking.]

[GA: But I digress. Futaba Ishikki, your mother researched for many powerful figures. One of them wished to use her research for unsavoury deeds and plotted to take her life and steal her research. We were working together to try and prevent that from happening.]

[GA: This all culminated on the 19th last month, where her laboratory caught on fire. It was not a gas leak – it was a deliberately set attack. Although I managed to save her life and send her someplace safe to recuperate, she is still comatose. You can blame me if you wish, Futaba Ishikki, since I have also given up on saving her research from her assassinator.]

There's a pause. Akechi holds the phone tightly in his hands. It seems like the Ishikki's always made him gamble, somehow. For this is what he is doing – gambling.

[HoneyOTU: Where's mom?]

[HoneyOTU: Bring me to her.]

[GA: My apologies, Futaba Ishikki. I cannot do that.]

[HoneyOTU: Why? Are you lying to me when you say you sent her somewhere safe?]

[GA: I sent her to the safest place I know, surrounded by people I explicitly trust. The issue is that even I do not know where she is being held.]

[HoneyOTU: What]

[GA: It is safer I do not know, Futaba Ishikki. I am a direct subordinate of the man who ordered your mother's execution.]

For the next few hours that Akechi blearily keeps awake, Futaba Ishikki does not answer.

The next evening, Akechi is exhausted as he collects the rubbish and hangs another bag onto the fire escape. This time, he isn't surprised at all when the window slides open and a girl's head sticks through.

This time, Futaba is not all smiles. Her own eyes have dark circles under them. Somewhere, a dog howls to the night, as the brisk autumn wind blows between them both. Akechi meets Futaba's eyes, face still under his black face mask, hair still under his hoodie.

"GA, is what you said last night true?" Futaba asks dully, and Akechi puts down the bag of trash and takes out his phone.

[GA: Yes.]

Futaba glances down at her phone and looks up. "If you're my mom's friend, why are you working for the bad guy that killed her?"

She's raised her voice a little, and Akechi first puts his index finger in front of his mouth, before sitting down. His back is to the wall, one leg folded with the other flat. He can still see Futaba, at the edge of his vision, while he types.

[GA: You assume I work for him willingly.]

Futaba squints down at her own phone, scowling.

"Who is this guy, anyway?"

Akechi side-eyes Futaba, orange-black hair and the determined knit of her eyebrows. Stubborn. She's also a little more aggressive than the Futaba Sakura he knew, and Akechi isn't sure whether to pin that on youth or how in this timeline, she wasn't a direct witness to her mother's death.

[GA: I may tell you later. Not now.]

"Why?!" Futaba bursts out, and Akechi once again places an index finger on his masked lips.

Quiet.

Only when Futaba has stopped fidgeting does he tap his response.

[GA: We are being watched.]

Futaba's eyes grow comically wide when she reads his response, as she immediately shrinks her neck back and sinks herself underneath the level of the windowsill until only her eyes show. Akechi watches this with a bit of wry amusement – Wakaba and Futaba have surprisingly similar personalities. It seems like their penchant towards dramatic reactions were similar at least, as Futaba squinted warily around just like Wakaba's very first trip into Mementos.

[GA: Not now. I try my best to make sure of that, though the fewer witnesses the better. So please stay quiet. But we are indeed being watched. They try to keep me under surveillance as much as possible, as I am his subordinate. But now that he is still in the process of extracting Wakaba Ishikki's research and trying to find missing parts, he is also monitoring the situation of those close to her.]

[GA: The only two people I am concerned about on this list is you, Futaba Ishikki, and Sojiro Sakura.]

"Sojiro too?" Mumbles Futaba as she cautiously flops her head onto the windowsill, looking at Akechi's form on the side. He makes sure to tug his black hoodie over his head again just in case, before tapping his reply.

[GA: Sojiro Sakura was a government worker before he was a café owner. You are her daughter. It is understandable that since he is struggling to find parts of Wakaba's research he is watching signs whether anyone close to her holds key information.]

[GA: I was going to watch and wait until his operation is over, before alerting Sojiro Sakura to your current situation and whereabouts. That is the safest way so that his attention does not turn to the both of you. Wakaba Ishikki had originally placed you under his care before his agents forced the two of you apart for his own purposes. I will see her will is done.]

Futaba reads this while chewing her lip. "So you and mom were close?"

Their Arcana hums warm in the back of his mind as he replies.

[GA: In a sense.]

"Is that why you're taking care of me?"

[GA: I made her a promise that I am ill keeping. I apologise.]

Futaba sighs, blowing a few strands of her too-long bangs out of her face. "I guess it's okay. You're saying that you and she both worked under an evil boss, and you were too under-levelled to save her, right? Now you work in the shadows to protect her last wishes while waiting for her to recover... You know, you live a dramatic life, GA."

They sit there in silence for a while, before the cool breeze makes Futaba shiver a little and Akechi stands up. From there, he can see into Futaba's room again – a tiny hole of a room, the nest of blankets in the corner. This time, he unhooks the bag of groceries from the fire escape and extends it to her.

[GA: I'm sorry for making you suffer under this abuse and not contacting Sojiro Sakura immediately. Please know I will act as soon as I believe it's safe.]

"…I'll forgive you for that later," Futaba replies. "It's not as if I contacted Sojiro either. I still have my phone, don't I? It's just that…" Her lip wobbles a bit as she stares at her phone. "I'm scared."

Futaba's thin hands clutch her phone, and Akechi catches the fine tremor of them that was absent during their discussion.

That's right, Akechi realises. Futaba Ishikki had extreme social anxiety that had been present even before her mother's traumatic death. Although he and Wakaba's efforts have removed the direct trauma of her death, Futaba has sustained continued emotional and physical abuse for the past two weeks under her relatives.

She had been talking to him so naturally that he had forgotten.

[GA: He will never turn you away.]

Futaba doesn't look at him, eyes on her screen. "I know," she says, but refrains from speaking further. Akechi has to leave – he's already lingered too long. Futaba seems to sense that as he shifts away, looking up at him. "You do know I'm going to search for mom as long as I have my phone right?"

[GA: Yes.]

"And no matter what you say," Futaba's voice is a small, hard thing, her usual childish tone absent. "I'll still be searching for that guy you two were working for."

He's not as apprehensive as he was about Futaba investigating her mother's death as he was before. It has been two whole weeks, and Minato's friends have undoubtedly pulled Kirijo's best resources into investigating Wakaba's incident. If a multinational company with a large budget and the most talented minds in the world couldn't pin down Shido, then no matter how genius Futaba Ishikki is, Akechi is at least assured she will struggle.

Especially if all she has is her phone.

[GA: I won't stop you.]

The two of them look at each other before Futaba turns away to snuffle a sneeze on her thin shirt.

"Go, go, I'm sure you want to. Bring me curry next time! Those ones with the heating packs inside them, okay?" She demands petulantly, and Akechi nods before leaving.

Next week, on an evening where Futaba had tear tracks on her face and too many dirty tissues in the plastic bag she shoves at Akechi as trash, Akechi thinks, before silently typing a question.

"You liar," Futaba gasps. "Yellow is the best Featherman to go with Black!"

[GA: As a Featherman Origins fan, I am more than convinced that Blue and Black have great chemistry, romantic or not.]

Futaba blows a raspberry at him. "Of course you like Blue since he has that secretive spy double-agent shtick going on. I bet you're one of those fans who cite Black's unwavering belief in Blue as why they're great together, right?"

[GA: I greatly admire Black. He's a steadfast leader, loyal, charismatic, and trustworthy. He was the only person who persuaded Blue to share his secrets.]

Futaba violently rolls her eyes. "Ugh, Black being the perfect leader is why Yellow is the best character to ship with him! Black is so charismatic and cool, but he needs someone to rely on too! Yellow has been with him thick and thin. Black smiles only five times in the whole show, and three of them are because of Yellow!"

She pounds her fists against the windowsill for emphasis. "Yellow isn't just his true love, they're soulmates in every way!"

She says this so loudly that they both freeze, as a man's heavy fist knocks on Futaba's door. The voice is slightly slurred.

"Who're you talking to?"

"Myself!" Futaba manages to reply, her voice a high squeak of nervousness. It's such a fast face-heel turn from their energetic debating that Akechi is taken-aback. "I was t-talking to myself!"

"Fuckin' weirdo," the man replies before those footsteps shuffle away and Futaba breathes out a sigh of shaky relief. Akechi stands, a still shadow at her windowsill, face blank.

[GA: Does he bother you in any excessive way?]

Akechi types a little sharper than usual, and Futaba shakes her head. "He doesn't even come in here, usually. I think if I didn't step out of the room to go to the toilet, he'd even forget I was living here."

Akechi stands there, and sees the black hair roots she hates, the shirt she has worn for the past two weeks, the sallowness of her cheeks.

It's never the right time – Shido hasn't given up on searching for Wakaba's secret research that he knows exists. Even if Shido's interest in Futaba's reports is fading, he is absolutely meticulous. There is a reason why he rose to power so quickly. Shido's eye for detail is not something he wishes to test.

Was it time?

Will it ever be time?

Akechi feels a familiar sense of self-loathing when all he does is hold up his phone.

[GA: Returning to my previous argument, I feel like Yellow has a shallower character development than Blue in regards to relationship progression with Black.]

It's obvious all thoughts immediately fly out of Futaba's head as she puffs up in indignation, slapping the windowsill again.

"GA, take that back! Or, or I'll post all the embarrassing selfies that I know exist on your phone onto every porn site I get my hands on!"

Akechi can't help the wry twist of amusement he feels as he replies.

[GA: Your threats are ineffective when I know you cannot breach your own security.]

"Fine, okay. But that doesn't mean you insult Yellow!"

"I found her," Futaba says, a few days later when Autumn has truly set upon them with its chill. Spitting out her hair comically when an especially strong gust of wind blew across them, she makes a face when the breeze doesn't stop. "She was under a fake name, but I hacked their security feed. It's mom. You were right."

That night, Akechi had missed out on dinner too. They were both unwrapping onigiri together. Futaba had ordered Mentaiko onigiri, but she was just dangling it in her hand while Akechi wolfed down his umeboshi onigiri. Akechi made sure to swallow and pull up his mask before facing her. Futaba is looking at him curiously, brown eyes wide in a thin face

"Are you sure you don't want to know where she is? I'm honestly surprised she's kept in such a fancy place."

Akechi shakes his head in negative, and Futaba takes a lazy bite of her onigiri.

"You weren't lying to me this whole time. I genuinely… I thought maybe you were just trying to trick me, but to know that mom isn't dead and that it's everyone else that's tricking me… It makes me mad."

Futaba chews angrily, before stuffing the whole onigiri in her mouth with a ferocious frown. It makes her cheeks bulge out as she tried to put her thoughts into words, before one large swallow later she's left gasping.

"W-water…"

Akechi soundlessly hands a water bottle over, and Futaba gulps it down before finishing with a burp of satisfaction.

"S-so, anyway, I just wanted to officially say I believe you now! I haven't had much headway for that secret boss behind you, but you told me mom was alive. That's… you've given me hope back." Futaba looks honestly uncomfortable, but she ploughs on anyway. Her shoulders are up to her ears. "Thank you, GA."

Akechi stays silent.

[GA: There's nothing that you should thank me for.]

"Ugh, stop that! I told you I can contact Sojiro anytime too, right? I just, just don't! Because I'm a coward! A-and Sojiro hasn't tried to call me even once. W-what if all he misses is mom? What if he's forgotten me?"

[GA: That will never happen.]

Sojiro Sakura had been as dedicated a father as he could've been and had suffered from months of regret from not rescuing Futaba sooner from her relatives. Akechi honestly doubts that he's changed.

"I, I know this is the anxiety talking," Futaba replies miserably, letting her head droop on the windowsill again. "You know, I'm glad I have you, GA." Akechi tilts his head for Futaba to continue, and Futaba stares up at the tall apartment buildings across the way, built so close together no moonlight could beam through. "You're kind of like Blue, all mysterious and sly but actually they're really nice when you get through it all."

[GA: I thought you hate Blue.]

"I don't hate anything in Featherman!" Futaba pouted. "Blue has his strong points too! Just not paired with Black! A-anyway, I was trying to say that… You obviously don't wear all black like this on a normal day, so this is kinda like Featherman suiting up, right? So you're Blue, and you've suited up to do your mission which is to bail me out when it's safe, and after you've bailed me out I can join up with you to bash the evil mastermind. I'll be Green, since he's the smart one, and…"

Futaba trails off, eyes slid to the side.

It's an offer as much as a promise, but it's not something Akechi knows he can keep. The stability of his daily life is not guaranteed, and once Futaba Ishikki transforms into Futaba Sakura, she would be better off paired with Akira and the Phantom Thieves.

As the silence stretches too long, Futaba has fully wilted. She has her arms hung over the window ledge, phone tightly held in her hand.

Brown eyes, just like his own.

Akechi has tried hard not to think about it these past few weeks, but it's hard when Futaba Ishikki had a laugh like a gasping seal and threw wrappers at his head when she's angry. The thought that they will never reconcile their differences over Blue and Yellow makes him inextricably want to report to Wakaba, in Mementos.

Your daughter thinks I have a bad taste in characters.

I think we're becoming friends.

He can see Wakaba laughing already, a gleeful told you so on her tongue. Smugness, he retorts to her image, becomes no-one.

His thumb moves slowly.

[GA: I thought you would want to be Yellow instead.]

Futaba reads the message before a small urchin's grin stretches her across face.

"Mwehehe, I want to be friends with Yellow, not become him!"

The moment stretches.

Akechi greets this with no grandiose sense of pride that his gamble has paid off. This Arcana had come with much more investment than he had originally planned.

Akechi looks up when his Hermit Arcana scratches her head, yawning.

"I don't usually sleep much, but I'm getting sleepy now. G'night, GA."

[GA: Goodnight, Futaba.]

The next morning dawns without a message from Futaba. Sometimes it happens, as Futaba is an oddly heavy sleeper, and Akechi pays it no mind.

He smiles through the school day, laughing politely when a teacher makes an off-colour joke about a woman's place in society, politely holding open the door for the class monitor to come in when his arms are full with papers. He tutors his classmates before greeting a frazzled Naho, who promises that Atsuzawa is finally coming back with a new lead this weekend and he can do more than just keeping on top of their paperwork soon.

They drink coffee together as the sun dips beneath the horizon, and Akechi starts his nightly routine after finishing his homework.

A trip through the Metaverse later, he freezes when he realises that the small window that held Futaba's room has the blinds down and the window locked. It's too dark to try and peer through into the room, and even when he does, there's no movement from the other side.

This time he doesn't hesitate. He melts through Mementos, facing off against a Shadow who is drunk even in his deepest subconscious.

This time it's relatively easy.

"Yeah," the Shadow says, lying down indolently on the floor. "Youji came back from his trip and demanded that I give that girl to him. I mean, she didn't even do anything, you know? I kind of forgot that she even existed. So I was like, yeah, just take her if you want. Youji lives in…" The Shadow scrunches his nose, before yawning out an address. "Will you leave me be now?" The Shadow yawns and Akechi doesn't waste more time with him.

Youji Ishikki.

Akechi steps out of the room back into the tunnels of Mementos, watching the red veins, tracing the crumble of the concrete.

Perhaps this was also a flaw in his past life.

Waiting, waiting. Always waiting for the right moment. He could've killed Shido so many times in his first life, but it had never been enough.

Shido doesn't care enough yet, he would think. He won't regret. He needs to feel pain, he needs to feel betrayed. My revenge won't succeed this way.

Now here he is again, waiting, waiting. Always waiting.

Akechi had set a few hard limits for Futaba's situation. The appearance of Youji Ishikki was one of them. Futaba was not going to spend any length of time under his care... even if he had to bear the consequences.

Self-sacrifice is only a foolish notion for the unprepared, Morrigan soothes as Akechi walks back towards the nearest exit.

I'm not sacrificing anything, he replies to Morrigan. It's just that I may not be able to fulfil that promise.

But that's alright, he continues, thinking of brown eyes. I'm a liar, after all.

The next morning, he clogs his toilet before he greets Saito at the door.

The old woman is surprised at his abrupt appearance before her, though her greeting is genuine.

"Akechi-kun! Good morning!"

"Good morning to you too, Saito-san. I was wondering if I could ask you for details about that plumber you mentioned before?"

"Plumbing problems?" Saito says with sympathy. "I don't know why it's happening so frequently nowadays. Want to come into my office while I find the details?"

"Thank you, Saito-san," he says, following her inside. Once the door closes behind him, he drops his pretences. "Actually, Saito-san, may I ask you for another favour? You used to be a social worker, correct?"

Saito pauses to look at Akechi properly, which is when Akechi gives her his most hopeless smile, allowing some stress to show through his body language. As expected, her wrinkled face slowly sinks into a look of concern. "Do you know someone who can help a child get out of an abusive situation to a foster parent I know will accept her with open arms? It needs to be in a completely anonymous way. Please."

Saito's eyes grow serious.

"Of course I do, Akechi-kun."

Chapter Text

Akechi leaves Saito with a list of numbers and names in his hand, detailed advice ringing in his ears, and he's politely thanking her for the plumbing help as he leaves the office. Saito's eyes are less amused even as she plays along – but her smile is genuine enough when she finishes their conversation with an offer.

"If you need any more help, I'll be here." She tucks her hands into her sleeves, dressed today in a long shirt and warm vest to keep out the chill. "Anytime," she insists. It's a pleasant enough offer, and Akechi looks back at her weathered kindness, finger tracing the information that she gave him. He wonders if she has ever been betrayed.

At her age, definitely.

It's a dark, niggling thought that always appears whenever Akechi interacts with kind people. It had been easy enough, after all, to weed out the people who had approached him because of his fame, prospects, or as plants of Shido. I wonder what they'll say if I visit them in Mementos, Akechi would think, and most of the time his slight expectations would be crushed. Too many knew the power that kindness had when wielded as a tool, and Akechi had responded in kind.

However, those people had never been his Arcana.

His Arcana, filled with people like Minato, Akira, Atsuzawa and Wakaba…

And Shido.

"Oh, thank you for your offer, Saito-san," Akechi smiles, tilting slightly into a bow. "I will take that into consideration."

He turns on his heel and goes back up to his dorm room, preparing for school. It's times like these that Akechi realises what a hindrance school is – the Detective Prince title was more than just a show. It had the practical worth of allowing him to go to places he would normally be unable to reach, a valid reason why he could cut schedules short. It was a topic that came up often during the trips he had been able to join the Phantom Thieves, sitting quietly at the back of the van doing the work he was supposed to be doing on his phone.

"God," Sakamoto would commonly groan, slumping over the seat in front of him, "we have school again tomorrow. I didn't even study. Why do we have to go again?"

Niijima would straighten up then, a sharp frown on her face. "Skull, didn't you promise that you'll keep your grades up? Exams are coming up soon. You understand that even with our Phantom Thief duties, our grades are important for our future?"

"Urrrghh," Sakamoto would reply, mumbling something under his breath, and Akechi would analyse their dynamics while trying to stomach Akira's erratic driving.

Come to think of it, perhaps that's the only thing he had noted Akira was horrendous at.

Exiting his room, Akechi smiles at one of his fellow dorm-mates as they also leave their room, but walking away before they finish locking it. School is the same. It's easy to deflect others when he dons a serious honour-student demeanour, excusing himself to go to the library during lunchtime, leaving school early citing that he wished to study. Calling sick to his internship to a concerned Naho, he returns to his dorm to greet the plumber who unclogs his toilet for him.

It's early afternoon, by the looks of things. More than enough time.

Entering the Metaverse and stepping out of his dorm building is like a breath of fresh air. The roiling red clouds in the sky look as angry as ever as Akechi strolls down the street, typing the first name that Saito had on her list of active social workers that she trusts.

Going down the nearest subway station, he visits the five names that Saito recommended.

Takawa-san, a middle-aged woman who was bemoaning her bills and rent.

Kanai-san, a young worker who started social work a few years ago demoralised about the system.

Mabuchi-san, an old man who wished to retire as soon as possible as he felt disconnected from his current workspace.

Furuki-san, another middle-aged woman who was outspoken about her own family troubles.

And Hatori-san, a young man who recently suffered the death of his mother.

Akechi shoots a Shadow in the face while he thinks, absent-mindedly ignoring its pleas to let it go as he shoots it again. He walks past its remains when he spots that it dropped nothing.

The thing about curing Shadows in Mementos is that some problems are reoccurring even after cognitive 'treatment'. For example, just because Akechi may beat down Takawa's Shadow and make it rejoin her real self didn't mean that her financial situation would change. Many times, a person's psychological Shadow comes not only from themselves but from the environment around them. In a few months, Takawa's Shadow would most likely reappear again, even more bitter than before as her optimism and new outlook doesn't change a thing about her inability to pay rent.

Furthermore, Mementos had another problem. Bashing someone's Shadow cures the current issue the Shadow had.

If Akechi beat Hatori's Shadow into submission, the man would wake up the next day feeling refreshed and reconciled with his mother's death, greeting the day with a new smile and perspective on life. Nothing else about his character would have changed.

So understanding these things, Akechi decisively crosses out Takawa, Mabuchi and Furuki.

Mabuchi was an old man who wished to retire because of age and social disconnection. Issues like that were hard to truly uproot, and Akechi wanted someone who could fully dedicate themselves to Futaba's case.

Therefore, Furuki was out too. Familial troubles strong enough to manifest in Mementos were tricky matters that most likely detract from the quality of her work. Not that there aren't people who can compartmentalise, but there was no need to risk Futaba being handed off to someone else because Furuki wished to attend other matters for the day.

And, Akechi thinks as he examined his gun and sniped another Shadow, the moment he heard the word 'money' from Takawa's mouth, he dismissed her entirely.

Greed and ethics were merely an opposing spectrum, after all, and Shido was a master at dangling bait.

That left two people – Kanai, a young woman who muttered her disappointment at how the system was forcing her to leave her wards behind even when they still needed her, and Hatori, with the dead mother.

The dead mother could be a benefit. Futaba lost her mother too, and this may make Hatori more invested in her case. On the other hand, his grief might affect his work. If Akechi solved the grief in Hatori's Shadow, then there was no added bonus to Futaba's case, which made him a mediocre choice.

That left Kanai, the young woman.

It could work, Akechi thinks, switching to Robin Hood's white attire. He adjusts his gloves absent-mindedly as he felled a group of Shadows with Megidolaon. If he times it correctly, he can persuade Kanai's Shadow right before she took on Futaba's case. If Akechi framed the Shadow's thoughts in the direction of resisting her industry, for her to insist on protecting her wards despite opposition…

Yes, it can work.

A brief visit to Kanai's Shadow reveals that she was recently to forced let go a few of her long-time wards because they returned to their original family. To make up the hours, she mans the call centre of her company on Mondays and Thursdays, from 10 AM to 5:30 PM. Although she's usually assigned cases by her supervisor, she can also suggest to take on wards if she has the availability.

"Why am I in my job anyway," Kanai moans, arms hanging as she stares at the red lines on the floor in front of her. The Shadow blinks her yellow eyes as large tears rolled off her face and dropped to the ground. "I'm useless. Nagi, Kenta, Ga-chan, they all depended on me to find them good homes and I just gave them back. I'm useless," she sobs, and Akechi quietly steps out of the room to the echo of her crying.

It's rare to find a distortion not based on selfishness, and Akechi is quite satisfied. Saito-san gave him quite a good recommendation, this time.

It's still Wednesday, Akechi emerging in the human bustle of Shibuya. The crossing is filled with people going back home from work, the chatter familiar as he carefully skirts around the usual cultists and reporters that stand near the station. Bad busking fills the air as he slips towards the train-line that led to Youji Ishikki's house.

Winding through streets that become more and more sparse, Akechi is in a middle-class neighbourhood when he stops in front of an average-sized house. It's near-identical to the houses to the left and right of it, it's brick walls stained with dust, paint slightly peeling off the doorway and balcony. Warping into the Metaverse for the actual infiltration, Akechi carefully edges through a broken window into the house before he slips back into reality.

A dimly lit corridor melts in front of him, worn floorboards and cupboards along the walls. Old photos are the only things adorning the wall, all featuring a man that Akechi assumes is Youji Ishikki, smiling as he carries all sorts of trophies. Apparently, Akechi notes as he pads down the hallway, Youji was on a professional swim-team in college, though the photos abruptly stop around a certain age.

Yes, Akechi thinks idly as he opens another door to check inside for Futaba, Wakaba had mentioned that her brother had been addicted to gambling since college. To be kicked out of a professional swim team after being found as a heavy gambler wouldn't be surprising at all.

While Akechi carefully checks doors and slowly goes deeper into the house, it becomes messier and messier. Bills are stacked in a large pile in a study near the back door, both for amenities like electricity and water, but also for debts to various banks and lenders. Bottles fill some corners, long abandoned, alongside beer cans. Dust covers most of his desk, with most of the photos similar to the hallway. A young, successful Youji and nothing else.

His analysis finishes a profile of a gambling addict, living in his past glory and mired in jealousy over the success of his sister. Akechi clicks his tongue and leaves.

Both the upper floor and the lower floor has no sign of Futaba. He did find her phone however, placed carelessly on a small table near a mouldy kitchen. Pots and pans fill the sink, while the counters next to it are filled with old lottery tickets.

Akechi ignores the remnants of a pathetic man as he walks to the last place Futaba can be.

It's easy to pick the lock of the basement.

Futaba is in the corner of the room, curled up in a ball next to storage boxes. Her glasses are nowhere to be seen, and her hair is tangled as she shrinks from the light. She says nothing even as Akechi approaches, only clenching her knees tighter.

His face mask on, a beanie over his hair, Akechi crouches. He puts on his gentlest voice – the ones where he needs to ease out statements from traumatised witnesses. It's a quiet lilt as he crouches a step away from Futaba and stops.

"Futaba, it's GA." Futaba twitches, but she doesn't look up, and Akechi continues. "It's currently five twenty in the afternoon, on the 22nd of October. You have been with Youji Ishikki for two days. I have secured my end of the deal – I'm contacting Sojiro and a social worker I trust by tomorrow, and you will be out by Friday at the latest. Will you forgive me for taking so long?"

Akechi stays crouching there for another minute before he starts shifting away, and an arm immediately darts out to clench his pant leg. The fingers squeeze tight, before letting go in surprise as Futaba finally wrenches her head up.

"G-GA?" Futaba's voice wobbles. "You're not a dream, right?"

"A dream won't be this good looking," Akechi tries for some humour, tone the same as before. Futaba doesn't laugh, her eyes taking in Akechi's masked form, his casual clothes. It's a white shirt and black pants, with an olive-green coat over it all, and Futaba looks over it all with wonder before her tears overflow.

"Take me outta here," Futaba pleads, as she unclenches her hand out of his pants to furiously rub her eyes, digging her face back into her knees. "I h-hate this place. It's dark and cold, and he puts food in a dog bowl, a-and says mean things about mom. He doesn't let me change clothes, and he's really scary when he drinks alcohol a-and, and…"

Futaba trails off into a whimpering sort of silence, and Akechi reaches out a hand to pat her shoulder.

"Alright," Akechi agrees, giving her shoulder another pat before standing up. "Youji Ishikki is currently attending a special event at the casino and is unlikely to return home until late afternoon tomorrow. Even then, he will be drunk and probably plans to neglect you until tomorrow evening. Everything will be settled by then." Akechi pauses, staring at the dog bowl half full with a strange-looking gruel in the corner. "I promise."

Futaba starts bawling, throwing herself onto Akechi's back and hugging him. He freezes – the arms are uncomfortable around his neck, and she smells kind of strange – before taking the opportunity to walk forward, Futaba in tow.

She doesn't resist, letting her feet drag on the floor as Akechi leaves the basement, closing the door behind him, the door automatically locking when it closed properly. He lets Futaba continue to be a strange, sniffling backpack as he goes up the stairs and down the hallway to the backyard entrance, taking the spare set of keys hanging next to the door and exiting carefully.

They're lucky that there's no-one around – a cat standing on the dumpster is their only witness when Akechi opens the small door that leads to a small street. Akechi and Futaba shuffle along, Akechi stealing a large hat hanging to dry on the way to tuck up Futaba's long orange hair.

He's only been in this residential district once, though he does know that there are a few cheap motels just a few roads down. It doesn't take long to get there, Futaba hiding behind him as Akechi charms the receptionist.

"Please forgive me for not taking off my mask," he says deprecatingly. "I'm still recovering from my cold."

"It's alright," the receptionist smiles, pushing forward a form. "Fill in your details here, and I'll take your payment for the night."

Akechi puts a name and address that corresponds with no-one in particular, paying for a double room in cash. The receptionist doesn't look like she cares about the blurry photo of the ID Akechi presents, and they're let into their room with little flair.

It's clean, despite various stains on the carpet, with towels and bathing necessities all provided.

"Take a shower," he gestures to Futaba who had been silent all along, and she nods quietly before scuttling inside, slamming the door behind her.

It's a good time as any to buy some spare clothing, and Akechi leaves a note before hurrying off to the nearest small convenience store.

A few bags of sweet drinks, sandwiches, packed dinners, and a set of plain clothing from a dollar store he passes, he's headed back into the room where Futaba still hasn't finished showering.

"There's new clothing outside the door," he calls loudly before he enters another room to wait, scrolling his phone looking up the laws for child abuse. The bathroom door creeps open only after another fifteen minutes, before quickly slamming shut again as Futaba changed.

"GA?" He hears soon enough, and Akechi walks back to Futaba's room, pointing to the food he's placed on her bed.

"I'm guessing that your piece of trash uncle didn't feed you enough, so I bought food if you're hungry," he says, before taking the remote and switching on the television. He hears plastic rustling as he turns on the channel for children's cartoons, just in time for Phoenix Featherman reruns.

It's cheerful background noise as they eat dinner quietly together, Akechi turned away until he finishes a chicken dinner set and replaced his mask, Futaba decimating the mochi that he bought without stopping. They watch quietly through the triumphant music blaring tinnily out of the cheap television as each of the Feathermen transform. They glitter and whirl as feathers sprout, suits clad on, each taking a solid ten seconds to finish their transformation sequence to strike a dramatic pose together. The group immediately leaps away from one another to defeat the mysterious creature that was locking the land under a mass illusion, wondering why their powers were too weak to do anything.

"I… I like this episode," Akechi finally hears Futaba say, and he refrains from feeling any judgment or hatred for now. He puts that aside to pull on his nicest mask, the thickest one that he uses to face the family members of victims after a crime.

"Me too," he allows the smile to warm his voice. "Pink really shines in this arc, doesn't she?"

"Yeah she does," Futaba replies, voice still tiny. "She kicks ass."

"She is the first one to awaken her second soul after all," Akechi tries to continue the conversation, but Futaba has already gone back to staring at the television screen. Akechi doesn't push, only nudging a packet of chicken closer to her when it seemed like she wanted more food.

"…What's the plan for tomorrow?" Futaba says when the credits start rolling, and Akechi hums along with the Featherman theme as it jingles.

"I will contact Sojiro Sakura tonight," Akechi replies. "To extract you with no complications, I'm going to direct him to a social worker I trust. She will pick up the case, before going towards Youji Ishikki's address. They will arrive around noon – Youji Ishikki should still be out drinking, but he should be back soon. By then, you need to lock yourself back into that room. I will instruct Sojiro Sakura to insist on following Youji Ishikki with the social worker while taking photos. It will be enough evidence to undeniably prove that your current social worker is neglecting their duties, help the case against Youji Ishikki's child abuse that can be tried by law, and allow Sojiro Sakura to take you back to his home. Youji Ishikki will then have no claim over any of your mother's assets whatsoever, and you will also be free."

Futaba takes that all in with silence, flinching only when Akechi mentions that she had to lock herself back into the basement.

Akechi considers this – he didn't like complete darkness himself, having been in one too many unimaginative punishments dealt by some of the parents he's had – and asks, "Is that too difficult? I understand if it is."

"I can do it," Futaba replies, tone still lit with a little stubbornness inside.

They watch Featherman reruns for the rest of the evening, watching Pink decimate dozens of ghosts to reach her teammates on time to warn them about a trap, until Futaba is asleep on her bed, curled under the hotel blankets with the air-conditioner turned warmer than Akechi would have preferred.

It's then that Akechi slips back into the Metaverse and goes back to LeBlanc, where Sojiro Sakura is still cleaning cups by his counter. The sign is flipped to [CLOSED], though Sojiro is still inside with the lights on.

Akechi opens the door, the bell giving a cheerful tinkle. LeBlanc's distinct smell of coffee and curry wash over him, as he watches Sojiro turn towards the door with a frown on his face.

"Hey, don't you see that we're closed?" Sojiro says, tone irritated. "Get out before I accuse you of trespassing."

"Sakura-san," Akechi replies instead. "Are you concerned about Futaba Ishikki?"

Sojiro's eyes widen. "Wha— Who are you?" He asks in suspicion, eyes narrowing.

"I'm Wakaba Ishikki's friend," Akechi replies. "You're a smart man. You should have noticed the people who're searching for Wakaba's research, right?"

"Yeah," Sojiro replies, voice still terse. "That's why I've been lying low. What's this about Futaba?"

Sojiro tries to step closer to him, but Akechi takes a warning step backwards and he stops, face set into a scowl.

"Wakaba originally granted you guardianship rights over Futaba if anything happened to her," Akechi starts, "but this was manipulated by the leader of the conspiracy because of her inheritance rights. He's allowed her to be passed around by uncaring relatives while he searches for more leads to Wakaba's research."

"Wakaba's shitty relatives have been blocking my calls for the past month," Sojiro says, impatient. "No-one is telling me who has her."

"I was waiting for a safe time to transfer Futaba into your care, Sakura-san," Akechi continues, pulling down his beanie a little more. "But it cannot wait any longer. Futaba has been placed under Youji Ishikki, and she is not being treated well."

"Youji?" Sojiro breathes in, before swearing under his breath. "He's the worst of them all. I thought he was gallivanting over Japan. Why is he back?" Immediately after the question, Sojiro shakes his head. "No, stupid question. He's here to steal Wakaba's money, isn't he?"

"Correct. If you care about Futaba Ishikki at all, please follow these instructions to the letter. This will prevent Youji Ishikki from ever entering your lives again while avoiding the mastermind. I can only leave it to you."

Akechi steps forward and places a piece of paper with a few instructions onto the counter before stepping back into the doorway. In the few seconds that Sojiro takes to pick up the paper and read it, somehow the kid (the other boy was obviously young – height still not mature and voice too smooth to be middle-aged) had disappeared. The bell at the door didn't ring, but there's no-one left in the shop.

Sojiro shivers. It's an ability near supernatural, and it's with another stab of regret that he didn't believe Wakaba when he had the chance. He knows, vaguely, what she had been researching, and obviously this boy has somehow attained it. Some greedy asshole must have realised that and targeted her. Now, he wouldn't see her profile leaning across the counter, critiquing how he made his curry, nor nights of messy research papers scattered around while Futaba crouched on top of a stool and demanded bigger bowls of curry. Wakaba's view of the world, so untainted in it's pure, scientific curiosity that Sojiro had been endeared by day one... And he sighs. Perhaps this is what it's like, to feel old.

Reading over the note again, the instructions are simple.

There's a number, to be called at 10:15 AM exactly.

He's to insist on a meeting immediately, citing an urgent case, before heading over to Youji Ishikki's address.

Stick by Youji Ishikki and take photographic evidence of everything he does while pressuring him to show Futaba.

Avoid Wakaba's lawyer to press charges.

Take Futaba home.

Sojiro folds the piece of paper carefully, feeling every single moment of the years he's lived pressing down on him as the implications of what he sees disturb him.

Photographic evidence. Pressing charges. Avoiding Wakaba's lawyer.

No, Sojiro decides, flicking off the light and locking LeBlanc. The people of Yongen-Jaya chatter behind him, as a crowd of old men crowd into the public baths opposite the café, and Sojiro nods to the few he knows. No, he's not going to think about this now.

Get Futaba first. Think later.

Kanai had a strange shift at work today. She had started work again, drinking a bottle of orange juice and downing a few iron tablets to see if it'll help her mood. Slapping her cheeks and trying to slip back into the bubbly mindset she had just a year ago, her mood (which hadn't changed for the past few weeks) suddenly did change.

Her doubts were suddenly blown away. She had an answer for everything.

Was there a reason why she's in her industry? Of course there was! So many children had social workers who didn't even try anymore, and if no-one was there for them, who would? If the law itself forced her to return children to places that weren't good for them… all she had to do was find proof that abuse was happening!

The answers came so dizzyingly fast that Kanai felt more than a little overwhelmed.

Yes, a smooth voice in her mind whispered. Yes, next time you have to try your hardest. You won't fail the next case now, would you?

Kanai felt a burning sense of passion back in her heart, the one that had spurred her on to help people out in the first place.

Of course she would! She's not going to deny herself anymore for other people! She's going to do what her heart tells her to do!

That's when the phone rang, and she picked it up. It was a worried man, thinking that there was abuse going on for his friend's daughter.

For some reason, Kanai really wanted to take this case for her own. It wasn't as if her boss would be angry at her if she did take it as a personal case – her boss already knew how disheartened she'd been to lose four cases at once.

"Okay, Sakura-san. Please tell me where I can meet up with you, and we'll check with her together."

After a quick check with her boss to see if it was fine, Kanai picked up her bag again and walked out the doorway to meet up with Sojiro Sakura, a dapper man with deep lines on his face, dressed in a sakura-pink shirt.

Kanai knew it was going to be a mess the moment she laid eyes on Youji Ishikki. He was a drunkard, for one, seemingly hungover when it was only noon. Secondly, the inside of his house was absolutely disgusting, and it was only sheer professionalism that made Kanai react with only a slight wrinkle of her nose.

Thirdly, he kept the poor girl under his charge in the most atrocious conditions she's ever seen.

Sojiro Sakura's hand was shaking with anger even as he took pictures of everything – the basement, the dog bowl full of food, the basement without windows, light, amenities, or even a blanket, and Futaba's condition without a shot of her face.

"You'll be safe now," Kanai bent down to look at Futaba at her level. She didn't take any offence at all at how Futaba only shrank around Sakura, the man apparently a close family friend. "If you don't mind, I would like to use your photos as evidence to take this man into court, Sakura-san," Kanai straightened up to look at Sojiro. "Also, I want this girl's case transferred to me, and that should be ample evidence." Kanai paused, before looking back at Futaba. "Would that be alright, Futaba-san?"

The girl didn't talk, but she did nod, and Kanai took it as a good sign.

"I've signed some temporary papers for now, Sakura-san. You're free to take Futaba home, but be prepared to have both police knocking on your door soon, as well as my agency. Would that be fine with you?"

Sojiro Sakura honestly looked more concerned for the girl than anything Kanai had to say, but he nodded anyway.

"Thank you, Kanai-san. Do you mind if we go first? I want to make sure Futaba is comfortable first."

"Please, Sakura-san," Kanai replied. "I'll stand watch over Ishikki-san until the police come."

"Thanks," Sojiro left after a gruff farewell, and Kanai spent the rest of her day with the police, detailing what happened, explaining the process of the day, providing the photographic evidence after saving a copy on her own phone.

It was fortunate that her passion for her job came back in such a timely fashion, Kanai found herself thinking as she took a bath that night. She definitely wouldn't have taken such a difficult case even just yesterday.

But she's helped save yet another child, and the thought fills her with a bittersweet feeling of satisfaction as she dips herself underwater and holds herself there, gazing at the lights through the wavery surface of her bath. Well, she reasoned, tomorrow was always another day.

She needs to take advantage of her renewed enthusiasm and catch some sleep while she can!

With that thought, she dived into her bed and fell straight to asleep, snoring slightly.

On the same evening, Akechi stood in front of Shido, having told him that he's found something absolutely monumental last night. That's the reason why he was missing from his dorm, after all. He was merely exploring the Metaverse a little too deeply after his amazing discovery.

Because this is the last step to make the plan watertight – to distract Shido with something greater than a month-old case. Futaba's move must have definitely landed on Shido's desk by now, so Akechi merely needs to make Shido pay more attention to something else. Something that he must have been waiting for all this time.

Shido wasn't the only one to know how to hook bait.

"What about it, Shido-san?" Akechi smiles, hiding behind a façade dripping with politeness. He does not project the smidge of stupid naivety that he had injected in his persona before. There is no money and affection-hungry orphan in this negotiation. Instead, he's shown a bit more of what Shido must've suspected he was – a negotiator, youthful and slightly cocky with confidence. He stands without subservience, and Shido's eyes gleam with interest as he sits back in his chair, fingers interlocked.

He watches the teenager in front of him stand with a deliberate casual flair, his face so similar to the pining, pathetic woman that was his mother with an expression he saw in his own mirror every morning.

Ambition.

Calculation and a confidence borne from seeing that some people were lower than yourself. A greed to stand where they deserve.

Shido sees himself, and he can't help the smirk that rises to his face.

"You think you can bargain with me with this?"

"I would have thought you would see the value of Palaces yourself, Shido-san," Akechi returns, voice pleasant. "When I was targeting Wakaba Ishikki, her Shadow muttered many… interesting things. Things," Akechi slows his speech in a minor taunt when there's a flicker of spiked attention from Shido, "that implies that the distortion in Palace Holders may be so great their Shadows are different too."

"You mean…?"

"I'm no fool, Shido-san," Akechi smiles with a sliver of teeth. "Weren't you aiming for me to become your ultimate assassin?"

They hold their gaze between them for a second longer, before it is Shido who closes his eyes.

"You have already proved that killing a Shadow in that collective unconsciousness merely makes a person faint. What proof do you have that killing a Shadow in those Palaces you've learnt to invade would lead to death?"

"None," Akechi replies easily. "However, before her coma, Ishikki's Shadow muttered enough for me to know that killing a Shadow in a Palace will at least lead to a mental shutdown. In the least, they become comatose. At worst, their bodies fail and they die. Both ways they're out of commission, which is all you need for your political purposes. Isn't that right?"

Shido's smirk widens. "And what do you know of my campaign?" He drawls, and Akechi dares to give a small scoff of a laugh.

"You are a public figure, Shido-san. Masayoshi Shido, stepping up for prime minister candidacy after a medical failure that was once on one of my target lists. The Minister of Health, one of your political opponents, is now under fire from the investigations you're doing on hospitals. Shall I go on?" Akechi asks, and when Shido doesn't move, he continues, putting a hand on his chin in fake thought.

"You are frequently mentioned on television on political channels, and the media is still discussing your growing prominence in the Liberal Co-Prosperity Party as one of the most promising candidates for the next election. From the information I'm collecting, I deduce that you are aiming at the Minister of Nuclear Compensation as the next step. From what I've gathered, some of his direct subordinates are embezzling compensation money for themselves. Doing such an act should guarantee a Palace to occur, and if they die, one of your agents can point out the strange numbers in their assets, which will bring that Minister under fire as well." Akechi concludes by straightening himself, tilting his head gently. It's a cold smile, one someone like Shido will understand. "Am I wrong?"

Shido's face hasn't changed. It's stone still, the office so silent he can hear nothing except a suppressive sense of muted noise that he knows must exist outside their sphere until it's suddenly shattered.

Shido bursts out laughing. It's a full-blown laugh, mouth wide and belly deep. He has thrown his head back, hands still locked in front of his stomach, before he shakes his head and wipes a few tears away from under his glasses.

"You are far more interesting than I thought," Shido says, amusement dripping from his voice, "and not many take that pleasure, Akechi."

"Thank you, Shido-san," Akechi pleasantly agrees. "I was merely guessing, with my conclusion that your plans will work much better if those you target go out of commission because of unidentifiable means."

"Like you?"

"Haven't you already crippled all the cognitive pscientists who can even guess that the Metaverse is involved if this plan succeeds?"

Shido nods. "And now you stand, thinking that this is enough for me to concede to your demands."

"They aren't hard requests, Shido-san," Akechi now demurs. "I'm merely asking for some regulation in my missions. One interrogation a week, one Palace a month, free reign to experiment by myself with the Metaverse with support from whatever research resources you have… And oh," Akechi pretends to forget, tacking it on. "Removing all the hidden cameras I've noticed around the places I recently frequent. Those are truly minor requests, aren't they?"

Conditions vastly better than what he had been subject to in his past life.

If he was to use himself as bait, then he had to reap at least that much benefit.

"Limiting your usage is limiting your usefulness," Shido points out, eyes never having lost that amused, predatory gleam. He was watching for reactions, noting him down, reading notes that Akechi had prepared beforehand.

It's all too easy to shrug and meet his eyes. "Shido-san, you must have realised I agreed to this deal to increase the quality of my life. What's the point of living well only to be someone's dog?"

Shido will allow this arrogance, Akechi thinks. He's the type to like seeing things like pride and vanity and toying with them, using them to break them later on.

And sure enough, Shido's smirk never fades.

"Alright," Shido agrees, leaning forward to bring his elbows to the table. "I agree to your terms, Akechi. We'll revise the contract. One interrogation a week, one Palace a month, and no surveillance. Instead of guiding your experimentation, you can write a report to me every fortnight on new revelations that you find."

"That's satisfactory, Shido-san," Akechi agrees, and they finish proceedings in an unnatural silence. It's when Akechi is holding the piece of paper in his hand and his hand is on the doorknob to leave when Shido's voice rings out behind him.

"Next time be careful that you aren't too presumptuous, Akechi," Shido says, voice cradling a dark promise. The confident smirk reappears with an edge of a threat, a silhouette against the cityscape behind him. "I met an overseas businessman recently, and he told me an interesting saying about poppies in his country when they grow. If a poppy grows too tall compared to the others… it's much easier to cut them down. Don't you agree?"

Akechi smiles and refrains from answering, leaving on that note. He closes the door behind him to Shido's amused chuckle and makes his way through the empty apartment to the exit. The brand of his concession is solidified with a quiet turn of his mind, as something new settles.

Masayoshi Shido - Devil Rank 2

"Are you going to leave now?"

His last visit.

Futaba Sakura was safe now, after all. Sojiro Sakura had given her the room she had lived in whenever Wakaba dropped her off at his place, already filled with her favourite action figures and a wardrobe filled with clothes she chose. Headphones are around her neck, completing the image of his memory as her eyes look too huge in her gaunt face under a spare pair of glasses. It would be a cold day in hell before Sojiro would ever starve Futaba, so he didn't have to visit in person, and anything unnecessary was a potential avenue of danger.

"What about our promise?" She's frowning, hands clenching the windowsill. "Why aren't you talking to me? I, I don't blame you, GA! No matter what, you… you saved me! If I don't blame you, you're not allowed to blame yourself!"

Akechi watches silently, before reaching out a hand. Futaba places her own in his in confusion, and Akechi gently closes his hand over hers in a handshake.

"If you can do this," Akechi finally says, "I'll think about telling you the whole truth."

Futaba's eyes light up.

"If I try, I can do anything if it's not physical!" Futaba is exclaiming, even as Akechi secretly taps the Metaverse app in his other hand.

The world warps, and Akechi is left standing on a small rooftop with his hand holding nothing. Futaba Sakura's room is intact but empty.

Akechi manages a small, empty laugh.

Ultimately, he's not the one that can pull Futaba Sakura in, after all. Akira, the Golden Boy, would be the one that will invite her into his party.

The quiet of the Metaverse is soothing as he slowly meanders back to his dorm, thoughts clamouring in his mind.

The next day, he mutes Futaba Sakura's chat on his phone before going out to school, greeting the new day just as normal. He reassures Saito that everything is fine with an extra-wide smile, and pleases his teachers when he answers all his questions right again. Classmates chatter about upcoming exams, many bemoaning their averages and how little they've studied, while more students than usual approach Akechi for tutoring.

He's more than glad to, as it offers a source of distraction.

It's the same when he greets Atsuzawa, finally back from his long investigation. The long whip of a man grins when he sees Akechi.

"Yo, kid!" He claps Akechi on the back, and Akechi jolts from the human contact. "You good for another weekend trip to Nishi? I found a lead, and Takaki found a body, so we need any help we can get. Get some fresh air out of the office, hah."

Akira's bright smile flashes through his mind, and Akechi manages a smile that isn't as pasted on as the others.

"That… sounds absolutely wonderful, Atsuzawa-san."

"Great. See you tomorrow at six in front of Headquarters again. Buy me coffee too, if you're getting one."

With another back-clap, Atsuzawa's gone to heckle Naho, leaving Akechi to try and avoid the mounting amount of messages that he sees on Futaba's messaging phone app.

[HoneyOTU: 79 UNREAD MESSAGES]

Chapter Text

The air is dry and cold when Akechi steps out of his dorms at five twenty in the morning, and the sudden drop in temperature makes the two coffee cups he cradles in front of Headquarters a pleasant burn. He only brought his personal phone with him just like last time, leaving his work-phone in his room.

It leaves him with a small sense of relief as he stands in the weak morning sunshine, observing random pedestrians out on the streets. Mostly stall owners or workers, with some joggers here and there on an early Saturday, bundled up more against the chill.

This time, Atsuzawa is a rumple of a human being who slouches down the steps of the Police Headquarters behind him, yawning while he lugged a bag on his back. Though it's obvious he tried to keep up some semblance of appearances, since the rumpled clothes were clean even if there were obvious laundry creases and he was still cleanly shaved.

"Didn't get to go home?" Akechi asks sympathetically, tone warm and friendly as he handed the extra cup of coffee to Atsuzawa.

"Got held up by the boss for another thing, don't mind it," Atsuzawa said hoarsely, grimacing at his voice and taking a swig of burning coffee. The next sentence came out much smoother. "G'morning kid. How much do I owe?"

"Five-hundred yen," Akechi replies easily, as they both head towards the train station. "And good morning to you too, Atsuzawa-san. Any news for me?"

"Ugh, don't ask," Atsuzawa groans. "But basically, there's been a murder that's in Nishi-Hachioji that we think is linked to Shion Gen. I've been off gallivanting across Japan, but that's because of special investigations from other districts, so the moment such a big lead comes of course I dropped everything to come back. I can't believe the old man still wanted me to go to Kyoto this morning, what's he thinking?"

"He must have his reasons," Akechi gives a noncommittal reply, sipping his own coffee. The SIU Director had squarely become one of Shido's goons, and by the looks of it, he's doing quite a good job of diverting resources around to hide the fact Shido was inserting more and more plants into the Police Force.

"That's the drawback about big organisations I guess," Atsuzawa grumbles. "Can't question higher-ups. Whatever, let's just catch the train."

The process was remarkably similar to last time, where Atsuzawa started snoring loudly the moment they sat in their seats, only this time Akechi was left to his own devices. There was a history assignment that Akechi had wanted to start on anyway, and he'd finished a basic draft of his essay by the time they transferred trains to go to Akira's more remote town.

It's obvious the moment they step into the main township, as it seemed like every stray murmur and gossip was about the case they were approaching. Atsuzawa steps forward like he already knows where to go, Akechi following behind him as he keeps an open ear.

"I can't believe it," some aunties chattered as they huddled around the cordoned street corner they neared. "A murder! In our neighbourhood! What are the times coming to?"

"We've never had an incident like this!"

"Oh, I heard that specialists from the Tokyo police are going to come help. It seems like it might be bigger than we think," her friend exclaims as Akechi passes.

Atsuzawa pays them no mind, looking more and more alert as they neared the scene. With a flash of his badge, the monitoring officer nods and let them both into a nondescript house. It was a house that held the architectural style of the 90s, simple lines and functional design, clean enough to know the owner cared enough to keep up basic maintenance.

"Takaki! What do you have for us?" Atsuzawa booms the moment he sees the hulking figure of Takaki near the corner of the house talking to another man, and Takaki turns around with a grin.

"Atsuzawa-san! Long time no see! You too, Akechi-kun," Takaki greets the both of them jovially, before quickly turning serious. "I'll give you the basic tour."

Takaki heads inside, and Akechi follows with interest.

Homicide was never really one of his specialties. He had specialised in white-collar crime like financial fraud, embezzlement, and corruption when he first began, later adding on the mysterious serial 'mental shut-downs'. With Sae, he had been on paper trails for a broader range of cases that ranged from abuse to anything the SIU Director wanted to throw at her, but even then he was more of a behind-the-scenes investigator than anything else. Practically speaking, he had no forensic experience at all.

Although inappropriate, Akechi feels a thrill of anticipation as he looks around a scene he usually examines through photographs and statements.

"Forensics have already gone through this place, so the full report will be in your hands later, Atsuzawa-san," Takaki says professionally as he nods at various other members of the police force they pass. "The overview is that the victim, Eiji Bando, fifty-six years old, was a truck driver who is contracted for the local department store. He was found dead on Thursday evening after a worried colleague was wondering why he didn't arrive for a night-shift. They were close friends, so he had a spare key. Bando-san was found at the back of the house."

The hallway is bright, all the lights switched on as Takaki leads them down a nondescript hallway filled with the usual memorabilia towards the back of the house, where there is a taped shape of a man next to a desk. There are small numbered tags next to various pieces of evidence, as Takaki points to each one.

"Bando-san was found collapsed in front of his work-desk. He died from slit wrists, just like Gen-san, and this tape shows how large the bloodstain was when he was found." It's a large area that leaks even under the table. "There are no signs of forced entry, and again, we can't find the murder weapon. His computer was also stolen. Judging by the wounds, the coroner said it's likely something like a kitchen knife." Atsuzawa nods.

"What about the critical clue that you were telling me about?"

"Look here, Atsuzawa-san." Takaki waves Atsuzawa over, who delicately walks across the scene until he reaches the edge of the tape of where Bando had splayed out a hand in death. There, Takaki puts on a pair of plastic gloves before carefully rolling out the bottom cabinet of the work-desk. Atsuzawa peers in it, frowning in confusion.

"There's nothing?"

"This cabinet was cracked slightly open when the police arrived, Atsuzawa-san. Inside was merely a large vinyl music collection. If it wasn't because my little sister used to like scribbling in weird places, I wouldn't have caught this either. Look underneath the cabinet, Atsuzawa-san."

Atsuzawa looks dubiously at the inch of space between the bottom of the cabinet and the floor and frowns.

"Just detach it from the desk," he grumps. "Pressing my face to the floor would ruin more evidence than me straining to see whatever it is."

"Yes," Takaki nods, and Akechi drifts closer while Takaki gently detaches the cabinet and flips it over for them to see.

There are three characters.

Ka – Zu – I

"It seems like Bando-san used his last strength to write these three letters secretly before he died. Didn't Gen-san write 'Kazu'? Now Bando-san has written 'Kazui', an extension, and they both died in the same way. It seems like both victims know the same critical information. However, I've been looking into it the past few days, and I can't find any relationship between Bando-san and Gen-san, nor Shibata-san. "

Akechi looks at the three characters, before feeling a little complex.

On one hand, it was destressing and quite enjoyable to see a real-life crime scene play out in front of his eyes, and he wanted to see Atsuzawa in action. Since his role was of a bystander anyway, all he had to do was watch, take notes, and take care of whatever requests his senior investigators had for him. When else was he going to have such a good opportunity to observe and learn?

On the other hand, this matched perfectly with what he had been investigating by himself.

It's with a little regret that Akechi looks around the crime-scene – the tags, the solemn atmosphere, the murmurs of other policemen outside as they dealt with the locals. If he has learnt anything from his experiences with Wakaba, it's that honesty and initiative were great drivers towards ranking up an Arcana. Thinking over a little as to what face he should wear, Akechi finally coughs lightly for Atsuzawa and Tataki's attention and puts on a small embarrassed smile.

"My apologies for interrupting your discussion, but may I interject?"

Takaki steps back the moment Atsuzawa's sharp focus honed in on Akechi, bending down to put the cabinet back into place.

"Notice something, kid?"

"Not necessarily," Akechi demurs, shaking his head. "In fact, this is my first crime scene, so I can only learn from you both. No, it's related to the three characters we just saw. Before I say anything, Takaki-san, may I ask if Bando-san had a previous criminal record?"

Takaki stands back up, brows furrowing as he tries to remember.

"Yes, actually. It's quite old though. Twenty-two years ago, Bando-san was still living in Tokyo when he was arrested for burglary. After serving a few years in prison he was released on parole."

"I see," Akechi smiles in satisfaction, and Atsuzawa impatiently flaps a hand for Akechi to keep going. "May I ask if the prison he was held in was Yokohama Prison?"

"I'll check," Takaki nods seriously. Atsuzawa stays silent as Takaki speaks quickly into his phone, and it hadn't even been a minute before he hangs up the call. "Yes, Bando-san was incarcerated in Yokohama Prison during his sentence."

"Shion Gen was also held in Yokohama Prison before he was murdered, and Hideki Shibata, as a former yakuza, had been in and out of many prisons, one of which was a half-year stint in Yokohama prison fifteen years back. Before this sounds like conjecture, I wish to highlight a long-term inmate of Yokohama prison, a yakuza member called Kazuichi Hiroto."

"Kazuichi?" Atsuzawa replies in deep thought, and Akechi dims his smile into one of a similarly serious vein.

"Yes, Kazuichi Hiroto. He was sentenced to life imprisonment after murdering a woman when he was twenty-one, and after serving ten years he was let out on parole, wherein half a year's time he once again committed murder. He managed to evade police for two years because of plastic surgery and the use of aliases, but he was arrested and placed back into Yokohama prison. He is now forty-five."

It had been a hunch that Akechi had, as he sat in their corner of the office with a chattering Naho, methodically finishing daily tasks and given free rein over any free time he had after he finished.

Prisons weren't a topic that interested Shido, and during this time in his past life, he hadn't been Detective Prince just yet. Since it was nearing the end of his first year of high school, he had been juggling the maintenance of his scholarship as well as his increased duties in the Metaverse. So although he didn't remember much of the greater news during this time, he did remember greater trends in the media - like a few weeks of discussion on the news and papers about some scandal involving a criminal ring inside prisons, questioning how effective prisons really were in containing crime.

It had been a small stretch to connect that scandal to Atsuzawa's current case, but he had tried anyway.

Yokohama prison, 'Kazu'. There had been many 'Kazu's inside prison that had stayed, left, and went in the past twenty-four years, and more than a few that had such a long history that they could target both Shion Gen, a person who had entered prison last year, and Hideki Shibata, one who entered fifteen years ago.

However, there was only one 'Kazuichi' who fit all this criteria.

And now there was another man who served a sentence twenty-two years ago, just within Kazuichi's prison timeframe.

"Furthermore, both of Kazuichi's murders were committed in Asakusa, the place where Shion Gen was distributing drugs. The analysis of his yakuza tattoos also indicates that he's part of a deeply entrenched yakuza group in the area… a topic which you would know more than me, Atsuzawa-san."

Atsuzawa's eyes are deep as he assesses Akechi again.

"You did all of that in your spare time?"

Akechi laughs a little. "It was difficult since Mitarai-san gave me many daily tasks to finish while you were away, Atsuzawa-san. But I enjoyed using the skills that I learnt to investigate different trains of thought I had during whatever free time I had."

It, Akechi grimaces inside, had also been a lot of hard work. Twenty-four years of prison records were no joke and background checks on each suspect had been a pain in the neck. If he didn't have prior experience at digging records with Sae, he might've given up altogether.

"I had business in Asakusa for the past month or so," Akechi continues presenting his case. "While I was doing so, I kept my ears open. It seems like the crime rates haven't really dropped, and gangs have been more active. I took the liberty of copying one of the reports you did on Shibata's warehouse and filtered out all the Asakusa businesses. A few caught my eye – restaurants that police have tabbed with ties to the group Kazuichi is affiliated to. I wonder if physical checks of those places will reveal supplies of rat poison?"

That's the limit, working as an intern with no name. He didn't have any authority to issue warrants yet, especially if it was still merely a working hunch.

"What about it, Atsuzawa-san?"

"It's a good lead," Atsuzawa flashes a sharp grin at him in approval. "Give me all your research when we finish going over the scene, got it?"

"Yes, Atsuzawa-san."

Takaki beams at Akechi. "Great job, Akechi-kun! I think my I can complement your research with the investigations I've been doing here. Later though, let me finish explaining the scene."

"Go ahead," Atsuzawa waves Takaki over, and professionalism descended on the group of three again as Takaki went over each piece of evidence peppered with his own observations and conclusions. They're insightful and intelligent, and Atsuzawa doesn't interrupt as much as ask everyone for their opinions. Akechi is allowed time to provide his opinion as much as the other two, as well as space to ask questions.

Later, Takaki leads them to the police station.

"I've already vetted out most of the suspects," Takaki says, before pushing a file over to them. Atsuzawa waves Akechi over to read over his shoulder, and they both look at the two profiles. As interrogation is not something that any teenager had a right to know anything of, Akechi quietly accepts Atsuzawa's silent order to observe. "I'll leave the interrogation to you, Atsuzawa-san."

Watching through a pane of one-sided glass, the interrogations were pretty boring in general. Atsuzawa started with the man first, wearing the morning away into the afternoon that resulted in nothing in the end.

The woman, however, was a little more interesting.

It was evening, and Takaki and Akechi were both sitting in the observer's room eating takeaway when Atsuzawa finally cracked something out of the woman.

"Give it up," Atsuzawa growled, looking more impatient than anything. It certainly presented quite an intimidating picture to anyone who didn't know Atsuzawa, and the woman shrank back. "As I've said before, a few of your associates already ratted you out. We're locking onto Kazuichi Hiroto's crime ring as we speak, and this is your last chance to confess. I might be able to shorten your sentence if you do."

Akechi's finishing a bowl of miso soup when he sees woman stills for a moment when she hears the name.

Anyone with eyes understood that the name wasn't foreign to her, and Atsuzawa settled back with the satisfaction of a cat who had eaten all the cream, knife-smile glinting as he played with the pens on the table.

Takaki yawns, big palm covering his mouth.

"She's done for," he provides when Akechi glances at him. "Atsuzawa-san will never let that go."

And indeed, in less than half an hour, Atsuzawa had a confession, a list of names, and the woman's wavering statement in hand after he promised her safety. Akechi watches with interest now, noting down Atsuzawa's interrogation techniques.

'Just an affiliate', was her explanation as to why she had no tattoos.

No, she wasn't the one that killed Shion Gen, but she had done a few other things for the group.

Why? Money, she said blasé. This was her first murder though, she admitted, which probably explained why it was so sloppy.

Why use her then?

At that, the woman shrugged. The interrogation basically ended there. Atsuzawa stops the recording and stretches, hands touching the doorframe as he directed other officers to go inside. Takaki excused himself to help, while Atsuzawa enters the observation room.

"What are you thinking, kid?" Atsuzawa says, leaning against the wall like an especially long noodle, thin fingers twirling an unlit cigarette in his hands. They were indoors, after all. "We've apprehended our first, solid criminal, and you've given us the way to trace the rest. Great job, by the way, I'll make sure you're credited. But more importantly, what are you feeling?"

They both watch as the woman is lead out of the interrogation room in a sedate walk. She has a mild look of discomfort on her face from being surrounded by so many officers but otherwise looks just like any other lady on the street.

Truly, no-one can judge another based off appearances.

Masks, as Saito said.

"Why do you ask?" Akechi replies, and Atsuzawa huffs out a rough bark of a laugh.

"Just looking out for ya. Facing real criminals for the first time can be quite shocking for some, though you seem like you're adapting well. I don't know for sure though since you're harder to read than most, kid."

Akechi places a pleasant smile on his face. "I'm fine, Atsuzawa-san. I'm only glad that a murderer has been rightfully apprehended."

There's a slight scar on Atsuzawa's forehead that Akechi is only now noticing, as he's raised his eyebrows in surprise.

"What a textbook answer." Atsuzawa squints before he slides inelegantly down the wall to sit like a delinquent, knees drawn up. "I doubt that's the only thing you're thinking. Don't be hesitant now, Akechi. Lay it on me, I've been through a bit. Pinky promise not to judge."

Akechi is wondering what Atsuzawa expects as an answer before Atsuzawa breathes out.

"And no, don't give me bullcrap stuff because you think I want to hear something in particular."

Akechi side-eyes Atsuzawa, who has grabbed the leftovers on Takaki's table. He's waiting for his answer while munching on a piece of cooled tempura, grimacing at the lack of crunch.

Honestly, Akechi didn't feel much of anything except the satisfaction that his lead was right. What was a more normal reaction to a criminal?

"…Perhaps," Akechi says, thinking back to when he was actually younger and encountering the large corporate scams Shido orchestrated face-to-face. All those glittering businessmen and their sharp-eyed wives, adorned in tailored suits and beautiful smiles stealing millions at a time, "I was wondering about how normal she was."

"Ah, yes," Atsuzawa sighs. "That."

Akechi nods, and Atsuzawa chews through another prawn tempura.

"Looks just like any other human, doesn't she?" Atsuzawa says, waving tiredly out the corridor where the woman had been led to be detained. "Before and after the murder."

"Yes," Akechi agrees, placing his own hands on his lap. "I've read enough books to understand that this is a popular theme to explore, the hidden darkness within humans that anyone possesses. But perhaps this is the first time I've been able to reflect on it so clearly."

"You speak too fancy, kid," Atsuzawa rolls his eyes. "I'm too tired for brainy stuff after twelve hours of interrogation, but yeah, sure. I agree. The more you're in this job, the more you have to face that no-one is a saint. Just one of the costs of the job. Still wanna be a detective?"

"Of course," Akechi nods, and perhaps Atsuzawa sees a little of Akechi's real feelings on the issue – the fact that he really can't care less about a woman who has only proven herself as another piece of society's trash – before he sighs again.

"Kid, I'm just gonna tell you what I told Takaki, and every single other rookie I get my hands on, okay?"

Atsuzawa helps himself to another soggy tempura.

"We police, we're the gatekeepers of justice. As you know, police are the first contact to the justice system from the general public. We make arrests, go to the crime scenes people avoid, rush out to any report of disorder, violence, or incident. Undoubtedly, this makes us meet a lot of people that're kinda shitty, so a lot of my friends are kinda numb to it all. All grizzled and disillusioned and stuff, yeah?"

Atsuzawa swallows the next bite before continuing. "I don't know if everyone does, but in a job like this you kinda question humans, sometimes. So many people, so ordinary, can do so many not great things. It creates a question – like, why are we up keeping the law anyway? Why do we keep on protecting people who just go on to do the wrong thing forever?"

Akechi hums to provide a response before deflecting. "What's your conclusion, Atsuzawa-san?" he asks, and Atsuzawa huffs.

"Easy. Most people don't interact with us much in their life, do they? Think about it statistically," Atsuzawa waves a prawn emphatically, "we deal with maybe the 8% of the population that's problematic, and never see the 92% that just live their lives, right?"

"So you're saying that we shouldn't bias ourselves with what we see, because our very job as detectives means that the world that is presented to us is biased?" Akechi muses, and Atsuzawa takes a solid second to process, fierce brows scrunching together against what Akechi guesses is a fierce headache, before nodding.

"Yep, that's what I'm saying. I'm not saying you need to believe me, Akechi. You're a smart kid, and you've only just proved that over and over again since I've met you. Heck, I think you're going to be better than me one day. So I'm going to share this now, so you can chew on it with that smart brain of yours, okay?"

Atsuzawa finally finishes Takaki's leftovers, and he places the tray on the floor next to him.

"Kiddo, what do you think the spirit of the police should be?"

Akechi tilts his head for a second. "A strong sense of justice?"

"Yeah that's important," Atsuzawa nods, "but also. I think it's a strong spirit of giving second chances."

…Second chances?

Akechi is a little surprised, and Atsuzawa nods.

"Hah, thought I'd surprise you. But nah, I mean it. We're trained to look at everything suspiciously, but that doesn't mean we should just believe our instincts. Second chances are important. It's our first duty as protectors, Akechi, to hear out the people we protect. What sorta protector would we be if we didn't even try to reach an ear to the people we serve our life to? We have to remember – just because we see, what did you call it, the dark side of humanity more doesn't mean that society is all like that, you get what I mean?"

It's not as odd an opinion as Akechi expects, though it's an ideal that Akechi doesn't really see often.

It's also not an opinion that Akechi has ever lived by.

In essence, if Akechi thought broadly, Atsuzawa wasn't only saying that the criminals that they apprehend are the minority – which is true. He's also unknowingly addressing Akechi's other life.

Mementos. The darker, metacognitive reality that sheltered the dark truths in every person's heart. Complaints, death threats, self-serving logic and self-pity.

Everyone has a Shadow, a side that they denied themselves because of its social taboo. Shido, Wakaba, and even Morgana, the weird, talking cat that seems to spring from Mementos itself, say so. It's not comparable to criminals versus good citizens when it's 100% of the population that has dark Shadows in their heart, though it's true that Mementos is perhaps, the metaphorical 8% that he can see of a person and not the 92% that most people see and judge. That the reality itself, made of shadowy blunt truths, was in itself a biased representation of reality.

What Atsuzawa is saying, inelegantly and while munching on old tempura with no class and looking more like a delinquent than Ryuji, is basically trying to teach Akechi the benefit of the doubt.

Is it even something Akechi can still feel?

Visions of all the Shadows he has ever faced emerge in his mind. He remembers the disgusting, filthy thoughts that pour out of their mouths, the utter lack of regret that they feel, and Akechi manages to twist his face into something a diligent pupil would have when they face a respected teacher.

"I'll keep that in mind, Atsuzawa-san," Akechi smiles.

Atsuzawa narrows his eyes at him, before shrugging.

"All I can ask. Anyway, you were spectacular today. Keep up the great work, Akechi." Atsuzawa's thin face manages to crinkle into something that could be classified as kind.

"I'm only doing my part, Atsuzawa-san," Akechi bows a little.

"You went above and beyond, kid. Want a break tomorrow? Naho says you were sick just the other day, and you've been overworking yourself. Since we finished the main interrogations and investigations here way earlier because of your tip, I think we can live without you for the day."

Akechi's going to refuse on principle, before remembering where he is.

Oh.

"…I'd love a break, Atsuzawa-san. I find I like the country air in this place. Can I stay here and return with you to Tokyo tomorrow?"

Atsuzawa shrugs, before rubbing his eyes. "Sure, kid. Heh, I have a feeling that with your lead, we can get to the bottom of this pretty soon, so take this break while you can. Gotta say I have high expectations of you."

Akechi feels a little flattered, but before he can respond they're joined by Takaki who laughs boisterously when he sees Atsuzawa crumpled next to the wall.

"Atsuzawa-san, there's a seat right there!" He says with cheerful affection, with which Atsuzawa rolls his eyes. All three of them stay late to finish writing statements before going to the cheap motel they stayed last time and crashing there.

By the time Akechi wakes up tomorrow morning, the other two have already left for the station according to a note left on the nightstand.

Fusazane Atsuzawa – Justice Rank 2

A cheerful jingle fills the air when he opens the door to Violet's Bakery, his eyes automatically heading to the counter where he sees the shop's lone worker checking out a few pieces of bread for a customer. Akira had glanced up when he entered, and his eyes widen in recognition when he sees Akechi at the doorway.

So, Akechi thought, giving Akira a little nod as a greeting. Akira hadn't forgotten him after all.

The other customer doesn't stay for long, leaving with his bag of bread while Akira steps out from behind the counter, as silent as a cat. Even now, Akechi notes, Akira moved with a precision that seemed to come naturally to him.

"Hello, Detective-kun," Akira greets, hands in his pockets. "What brings you here today?"

"Hello, Kurusu-kun," Akechi replies with a small laugh. "I'm still not a detective yet, so please call me Akechi. We've reached a breakthrough in the case, so my supervisor gave me a break. This seemed like a lovely, quiet place to sit for a while, if nothing else," Akechi says, acknowledging the warm, homey atmosphere that the bakery had. Not only did it smell delicious, but there were also small seats and tables inside that was perfect for a coffee and a croissant. "And you were pleasant company last time," Akechi offers truthfully. "I'm here to report that the cookies you recommended were quite delicious. Thank you."

Akira takes that with a small quirk of the eyebrow, before nodding and walking back to the counter. He sits on the stool there, resting one of his elbows on the counter, head in his hand. It seems like he's mulling over something, even though his eyes never really leave Akechi's figure.

"If you want, I know a quieter place," the other boy says. "It gets busy here during lunch."

Akechi pauses in his vague perusal of the bread selection.

Logically speaking, Akira is still a witness.

"I don't want to intrude on your work, Kurusu-kun," Akechi replies.

"I get off shift at noon today," is Akira's easy answer.

"…If you truly don't mind," Akechi says, pausing. Akira shakes his head in negative, so Akechi continues with a smile. "Then I would appreciate the guidance and company."

There's a small flicker of something in Akira's eyes when he agrees that Akechi doesn't quite catch. There's no opportunity to examine it further either, as Akira turns his attention to a new customer that walks through the doors.

Watching Akira interact with the other patrons in the bakery is a process that shouldn't be so fascinating, but it isn't as if Akechi had ever had a lot of time to watch Akira in the real world when he was interacting with something else. There are many familiar customers, aunties and the elderly who would come in and greet Akira by name or exchange a few words with a familiar air as he handed back their purchases with a small-town unurgency. Akira received these people with a nod, responding only when the other pauses in expectation. It's a peculiar habit that Akira must have shaken off somewhat when he meets him in Tokyo. At least, he hopes so. Akira's slightly random quips had always made their interactions surprising, if nothing else.

Having settled by the window and busied himself by scribbling out paragraphs for his assignment, Akechi wonders what made Akira such a person, to always wait before giving an answer.

As promised, the next part-timer enters the bakery a little before noon, greeting Akira cheerfully. Akira merely nods his head in reply, taking off his apron and heading to the back to collect his things.

Akechi ignores the interested glance the girl gives him as he efficiently packs his pencil-case and homework back into his bag, standing up in time to join Akira when he reaches the door.

"So you mentioned a quiet place?" Akechi smiles as they head out. Akira nods, tucking his hands in his pockets as he looks up at the sun. It's the bright sun of noon, and Akira nods at it before shrugging a shoulder for Akechi to follow.

It's a familiar gesture he's seen dozens of times before. It's with a sense of bemusement that Akechi follows without complaint, trailing behind this familiar back winding through suburban Japanese streets until the scenery gradually disperses as they near the edge of town. The gaps between houses get wider, and gardens with overgrown weeds and scraggly grass grow more common as he follows Akira's steady tread out of town to where the horizon opens up in a sprawl of blue sky unblocked by any house or roof or streetlamp. Akechi's feet involuntarily stop as he takes a few moments to take in the unimpeded view of grass-fields, winding roads, and the railway track that sits as a gleaming trail of silver that heads back to the great unseen metropolis of Tokyo.

Akira is a patient shadow at the edge of a bordering road, standing comfortably in the shade in front of a smaller local track that leads towards the mountain.

"Not far left," Akira provides from Akechi's unspoken question as he nears before turning and leading again, feet steady against the loose leaves and branches that lie on the path. They never truly reach the base of the mountain before they enter the sparse forest full of thin trees and thick mulch, bright yellow and orange leaves streaking the light above them. Autumn has made the undergrowth especially deep, their consistent crunch their only companion other than the various small birds that flit by at the corner of their eyes.

Akira slowly but surely leads them to crest a small hill that holds a small shrine at the top with an old stone seat that faces the town. It's here that Akira gives into a slight smile when he looks back at Akechi, waving him forward to the bench. With a fond pat to the worn face of the deity's stone statue, so old that Akechi can't even distinguish the features of, Akira brushes away a few stray leaves before sitting down. The space left open on his side is an invitation that Akechi doesn't hesitate to accept, and Akechi finds himself looking down at the town in silence.

Now that they aren't moving, the world descends into the miscellaneous rustles of nature. A breeze, for once not heard through a window, brushes past his face smelling like bark and resin, leaves rustling in gentle time. Clear chirps of small birds come somewhere behind, and dappled shade over their small clearing play shadows over their surroundings. Rocks that shine bright one second gleam dark the next, and Akechi can't help but breathe in while feeling the slight warmth of the person beside him.

Akira had leaned back with his hands on the back of the stone bench looking upwards, but when Akechi turns his head he finds Akira already looking at him. It's automatic to smile.

"Anything you want to say, Kurusu-kun?" Akechi asks.

Akira blinks in response, opening his mouth a little before looking away before Akechi can really create eye-contact. After a pause, with grey eyes trained to a far-off point in the mountains, Akira quietly asks a question.

"Feel better?"

"Feel?" Akechi echoes and Akira nods, a finger reaching up to curl a lock of hair around his fingers. Dark eyes glance at Akechi before glancing away again.

"You looked tired," Akira replies amidst the wind rustling gold patches of sunshine across his hair, voice nearly taken by the wind. "When I feel that way, I like to come here."

A quiet and beautiful place, Akechi can't help but think, but isolated. This hill was only a thirty-minute walk, but it definitely removed them from the township spread underneath them. Akechi never remembered Akira being unsociable. The Akira he had known was surrounded by people who all clamoured for his time, never separated from Morgana who he willingly hugged everywhere and indulgently listened to whenever the cat had a quip or a comment to make. But on this trip and the last, Akechi never found anyone particularly close to Akira at all. No friends had barged in on shift, no family in the house when he visited. He files the thought away for now, taking a look around the clearing again.

"I see," Akechi replies, digging his feet into orange-yellow leaves. "I can see why. It's a beautiful place to sit down and think, removed enough that there's no fear of being interrupted."

Akira nods with a tiny quirk of a smile before he looks again out towards the township. The air between them is still not an uncomfortable one, Akechi notes with interest. For him, it's understandable that he's not wary of Akira, but for Akira to show the same attitude to him is a little… They have only met three times, after all.

"Thank you for showing this place to me," Akechi continues. "I haven't been out in such nature for… a long time. I've always been a city-dweller."

They both watch the town beneath them move slowly, tiny people walking through the streets, the apartments that seemed so tall now strangely squat in comparison to the elegant silver line of the railroad that continues past the line of mountains and down the countryside. On and on and on, in reminder of a world that exists beyond the boundaries of Akechi's own, limited experience.

"When was the last time?" Akira asks, and Akechi pauses.

It's one of his most private memories, hidden behind Robin's kind heart. It's known by no-one now.

But this is Akira, still a normal boy not yet golden. And here was Akechi, a traveller not yet blackened.

Perhaps if he gave this memory to Akira, not yet their intrepid leader, it would shine differently than the memories he would inevitably collect when he went to Tokyo. There's a small sense of satisfaction at that thought, and Akechi holds it warm against his tiny, selfish heart when he starts reminiscing.

"If you don't mind me speaking for too long, Kurusu-kun… If I remember correctly, I was six," Akechi starts, thinking back to his mother's beautiful hair twirled into an intricate bun at the back of her head, the colourful painted umbrella that she held up over them. "I didn't come from a very privileged family, so celebrations and other festivals were usually spent inside in front of the television. But one day my mother received a bonus from one of her clients, and there was a matsuri out of town."

He and his mother stood out in a sea full of beautifully embroidered yukata, diving fish and cherry blossoms, elegant butterflies shimmering on sleeves and silk koi weaving their way through obi. They wore their usual clothes, a nice but old dress for his mother, a shirt and shorts for Akechi. But it had been magical all the same.

"It was only a short rail-trip out of town before the city was left behind. There were a lot of stone steps to get to the shrine that the matsuri was being held at, but on top there were paper lanterns that were strung along the trees and the square, with game and food stalls lining the whole area."

Akechi didn't get to play any of the games. Now that he thinks back, his mother telling him that the games were too crowded and they had no time was probably his mother's attempt to save money.

"The very top of the shrine was bustling with lights and people, and my mother had never been one for crowds. A priest recommended us a short walk that we took that lead to a small clearing similar to this, Kurusu-kun, and we watched the sunset while eating some taiyaki. When I finished mine quicker than my mother, she gave me her remaining half. Kurusu-kun," Akechi says towards Akira's general direction, "I haven't been so removed from a city since then. There are a few parks I like to cycle through in my spare time, but it's not nearly the same."

Akira, who hasn't said a word throughout the whole thing, nodded in agreement. When Akechi nudges him gently with an elbow for him to elaborate, Akira sighs before acquiescing. "Nature… It's not arranged by people. Parks are."

"Exactly," Akechi agrees with a spark of satisfaction that Akira understood, before allowing himself a moment of wistfulness. "For just a little bit of the time," he thinks back to his mother's cold hands and the burning hot taiyaki on his tongue, the babble of the festival a far off glow behind them and a sea of stars above their little clearing of shadowed trees. Dappled moonlight, a darkness that felt safe with his mother there. "You're far removed from people and far closer to who you are without the perceptions of others… alongside the people next to you, of course," Akechi laughs slightly, turning his smile to Akira who was still listening intently. "My apologies for dragging on. Eating sweets with my mother is a fond memory of mine."

Akira's face is stoic as he considers this, before reaching in and pulling out a few things in his bag without looking away from Akechi.

"It's not taiyaki," Akira says, handing it to him, "but I hope dorayaki is still okay."

When Akechi unwraps the paper packaging, the smell of red bean hits his nose. He lets a smile spread across his face.

"Do you like sweets, Kurusu-kun?" Akechi allows the previous topic to rest, taking a moderate bite out the dorayaki and savouring the sweetness.

Akira, always the big eater, demolishes his in a few big bites and unwraps another one. "I don't really mind," Akira replies after chewing through another one. "I hope you think this is tasty though."

"It is," Akechi agrees.

"I'm glad," Akira says with a hint of a rising smirk. "Because I made it."

Akechi pauses before he looks down at the dorayaki in honest surprise. When he takes another bite, it tastes practically professional.

"It's not hard to make when you already have the ingredients," Akira shrugs, handing him another one before he's even finished the first. When Akechi takes another bite, perhaps the red-bean is less smooth than commercially made dorayaki, but he would never have noticed it was hand-made if Akira never told him.

"This is rather impressive," Akechi says after swallowing. "Your baking is extraordinary, Kurusu-kun," he grins. "I'm rather lacking in the culinary skills myself. I usually make-do with convenience store food, or a few fruits from the grocery."

"I did promise to make you something if you came back," Akira says.

It's been a few months for such a casual promise to be remembered, and the surprise must show on Akechi's face.

"Oh," Akechi replies, once again lost for words. Akira's small smile became a little wider at that, an edge of a tease.

"Not many people find me as interesting as you seem to see me," Akira says, a small laugh in intelligent eyes. "Or become so comfortable so quickly." When Akechi raises an eyebrow in silent question, Akira shrugs. "Too quiet," he provides with the tone of a person who knows exactly what the problem is and doesn't care enough to solve it.

Still, Akechi frowns. "That is hardly reason to avoid you, Kurusu-kun," Akechi replies, and Akira shakes his head.

"Rather, they don't notice me," he says. And under Akechi's gaze, Akira tilts his head again in that inquisitive tilt, watching him.

Yes, as much as Akechi had been observing Akira, Akira had been observing him back, hadn't he?

"It's strange," Akira leans forward with eyes the most similar to Joker's gaze he's seen since he came back in time, and Akechi swallows the bite of dorayaki in his mouth with a prickling feeling at the back of his neck. "You don't feel like a stranger, Akechi. I don't hate that though."

Akira's grey eyes assess Akechi once more before he retreats back into his comfortable slouch, Joker once again hidden by the stoic mask that Akira faced society with.

"Want another one? I made twenty, so eat lots for my sake," Akira says the moment Akechi picks up the second one, and Akechi manages a bewildered laugh as he unwraps the paper wrapping

"You're the strange one, Kurusu-kun," Akechi says, truly meaning it.

Akira quirks one side of his mouth, eyes briefly tilting into mischief.

"Hardly. Most call me boring."

Chapter Text

"What did you think of him?" Minato once asked in their discussion, "the other Wildcard."

Akechi often noticed that Minato struggled with names that he didn't already know, barring Akechi's own introduction. Akira had always been referred to as 'the other Wildcard' despite the many, many times Akechi has already said Akira's name.

He can't help it, after all. Akira had been the one force that had challenged him, over and over again. When he thought every single deed that he did was dead and done, Akira would revive it in a better way. Any traps he laid; Akira sidestepped. When given the powers of the Metaverse, Akira had unwaveringly become his version of Justice while Akechi had become a murderer.

And throughout it all, he never refused the superficial hand of friendship that Akechi had thrown him.

Akira and the trepidation in his eyes when Akechi raised his gun against him in that final moment. He had held it there for a long second, testing Akira one, last time. The flicker of confusion when he shot the emergency lock instead, before realisation and the aborted step forward. Not once did Akira use his lightning reflexes to raise his own gun back at him, to step back, or even to dodge.

It was the last thing he saw before he turned towards Shido's cognitive double of himself.

"What do you mean?" Akechi replied, hand over the bullet-hole in his heart. His fingers traced the ragged edges of it, the lack of beat.

"You mention him," Minato said delicately. "Quite a lot. But you have a way of speaking that doesn't truly show what you think of the people you mention. And I was curious."

Minato's large blue eyes stared at him again, and Akechi allowed himself the indulgence of sending the full force of his annoyed scowl at him. As always, Minato's only reaction was a blink. His reaction is noted with a frisson of pleasant surprise. Akechi's been showing more and more sides of himself, and Minato has only ever reacted with acceptance and more benign curiosity.

"You're as nosy as ever, I see," Akechi replied with a little barb, and Minato sneaked in a small smile as he waited.

What did he think of Akira?

A boy who simultaneously did not care enough other's opinions to go against the flow, but also a person with an unwavering sense of responsibility when he saw wrongdoing. A little careless, a little carefree, Akira was a person who could unconditionally give his all for his friends.

Parsing through all his hatred and the burn of his envy, Akechi had to acknowledge his admiration at Akira's unflappability against fame, acknowledgment, reputation. Things that Akechi found irreplaceable were tools of Akira's, something that had swept the Phantom Thieves up and nearly left them vulnerable – if not for Akira's steady mind.

Akechi managed to hum.

"He was a fool," he finally replied to Minato's question. "Even after I gleefully shot him, he still trusted me, in a sense. He still listened to my last words and agreed to fulfil my last wishes. What sort of idiot does that for his murderer?"

"But perhaps I'm the biggest fool of all," Akechi continued without letting Minato speak. "To betray someone like that."

"Do you regret it?" Came Minato's next question.

Akechi's fingers stopped tracing the bullet-hole as he allowed himself to feel the cold of space infusing his body. He has no warmth now, to stave that off. Somewhere along the line, he realised that he could change his appearance. He does not need to be Akechi clothed in Loki's hatred, forever in his blood-splattered moment of death. Instead, he can present the pleasant Goro Akechi who smiled for television interviews, perfectly immaculate and styled for maximum popularity to Minato's curious eyes.

He found he didn't want to.

"…Yes," Akechi finally said. It is a difficult admission, but it leaves him like a breath of fresh air. "Yes, I do."

They stay there until the afternoon light turns dimly yellow, Akira not minding when Akechi scribbles his homework, leaning over his shoulder to read his work. They share conversation over the rest of the sweets Akira baked, and somehow Akechi learns more about Akira than he had ever learnt in the past few months of his acquaintance with him last time.

For example, he hadn't known that Akira actually had a lasting interest in horticulture.

On their way down, Akira nonchalantly lists out every type of tree and plant they pass, and Akechi's amazement is real when they reach the township again just as the sky is getting shot through with gold, a pink tinge in the clouds.

"You're amazing, Kurusu-kun," Akechi says as he tries to discern the difference in between the two ferns that Akira had given him. If Akira had not first pointed out the different type of ridges on the leaves, Akechi would have thought they were the same. "Your powers of observation are quite astute."

"As amazing as a detective?" Comes Akira's deadpan reply, eyes amused.

Akechi can't help but laugh.

"An individual's power of observation comes alongside their field of expertise, Kurusu-kun. You've certainly surpassed me in the field of plant studies."

Perhaps that is why Akira had chosen to work at the flower shop at Shibuya so much. It's a new point of enlightenment that Akechi tucks into the small portfolio that he has labelled Akira Kurusu in his mind as they head deeper into the town, leaving the open plains behind for the more mundane town streets. Suburban houses close in again as Akira leads the way back towards the centre of the town to the police station, their footsteps in time. They stop at the intersection between the bakery and the station, Akira standing there with his bag loosely over his shoulder as he waited.

There's a strange expectation in the air that Akechi swallows against.

"Thank you for accompanying me for the day, Kurusu-kun," Akechi says, and Akira nods.

He doesn't move. He continues standing there, waiting. In response, Akechi searches for what he's trying to say and finds little. For some reason, words come slowly to mind.

"You've truly allowed me to appreciate the beauty of nature for the first time in many years," Akechi tries again, and all Akira does is another nod. After another pause, Akechi concedes.

"Goodbye," Akechi bows in the burgeoning awkwardness that had been absent most of the day, turning back towards the station. Before taking another step, he hesitates. Perhaps? "…Before you leave, Kurusu-kun," Akechi turns back, pivoting on his heel. "May I have your number? You don't need to, of course, but I don't know if I'll be able to come back to this place for quite a while…"

He doesn't even finish turning before he sees Akira's phone already pulled out, head tilted as he stares straight at Akechi. Akechi's smile widens, pulling out his own phone. With a quick scan, they both accepted each other's contact numbers, and Akechi looks down at it with a warm glow of satisfaction.

Akira is still a witness, but as Atsuzawa says, the case is going to be wrapped up soon.

…It isn't too much of a breach of conduct if he takes this number first. He'll just refrain from telling his superiors for a while.

"Let's keep in contact," Akechi now allows himself to look up at Akira with the burgeoning sunset behind him, a wash of orange and pink staining an image still slightly strange without the glasses Akira wore, that he had become accustomed to in the past.

This time, Akira shares his smile.

"Alright."

This time they both turn to leave, and Akechi reaches the station just in time to see Atsuzawa guiltily snuffing out a cigarette under his heel.

"Yo, kid," he waves, and Akechi smiles while pointedly looking at the cigarette mark on the floor. Atsuzawa grimaces. "Alright, don't tell Naho, okay? She gets on my case way too much already. If you don't tell her, I'll treat you to dinner."

"Hello, Atsuzawa-san. How were you today?" Akechi agrees to ignore the issue, and Atsuzawa grins.

"Got a lotta headway. We have a lot of work coming along kid."

Atsuzawa chatters as they head inside, explaining how Takaki's investigations into Nishi had been fruitful in tracking down a few other people who had connections to Kazuichi Hiroto. They have a few solid leads going, and Takaki's job in Nishi was finished for now. They'll head back to Tokyo together.

On his side, Akechi explained he finished his history assignment in a café nearby, and Atsuzawa nods in approval as he bids Takaki to start packing for their return to Tokyo.

They're on the train home, all three of them sorting through papers and trying to slot them into place with theories muttered between all three of them when Akechi gets a ping on his phone.

When he checks the message, it's from Akira.

[Akira Kurusu: Thanks. I had a nice day today]

Inexplicably, there's a photo of a pot of marigolds attached. It's a small pot on a windowsill, the yellow-orange blooms lit up by the sliver of sky behind it. Although Akechi is a little confused, he replies anyway. When he finishes, he cannot help but see their new chat log as the representation of a new beginning. A new chance.

[Goro Akechi: Thank you again, Kurusu-kun, for your company today. Your flowers are beautiful. Are they marigolds? Otherwise, I hope you have a lovely evening.]

Fool Rank 2 – Akira Kurusu

By the time they arrived back into the bustling metropolis of Tokyo, it was late enough that crowds of drunk businessmen had started stumbling out of izakayas. The streets are bustling with the energy of a city, and Atsuzawa led them both to a homely beef bowl shop for their promised dinner.

"Thanks for treating us, Atsuzawa-san!" Takaki says with his usual boisterous energy, waving the waitress over to their booth.

"I can't believe you wheedled yourself into this," Atsuzawa groans, hunching in his trench coat. "Do you know how much you eat?"

"As much as a healthy man for my size eats," Takaki replies cheerfully. They pause their conversation as they each order food before they continue their chatter. Somehow the conversation drifts to Akechi's assignment.

"Yes, it's a written piece on the Heian period," Akechi is explaining. "As we were given free rein on our topic of choice, I chose to critique the Tang Imperialism that the Heian Imperial Court tried to emulate, and the inefficiencies of the Ryomin system that they implemented."

Atsuzawa whistled, blowing a long strand of hair away from his face.

"An honour student to the bone, huh? The complete opposite to this big guy here," Atsuzawa points at Takaki. "I met him when he was a high-school suspect, you know?"

Takaki sends them both a bashful look, and Akechi couldn't help but assess Takaki in surprise. Akechi would never have pinned him as a criminal affiliate if he profiled him. This large hulk of a man was perhaps too excited and happy, to the point of slight annoyance on Akechi's part. But he also demonstrated great competency in everything he did and was passionate about finishing his police duties.

"Yes, I was a bit of a problem child," Takaki grinned, scratching the back of his head and Atsuzawa rolled his eyes.

"Tell me about it. Cleaning your name was tough, even for me."

"I was in a bit of a scandal," Takaki shared to Akechi as he started tucking into his extra-large beef bowl. It goes down so quickly Akechi has flashbacks of Akira's tales of attempting the Big Bang Challenge. "I wasn't the best student in high-school, Akechi-kun! That's why I admire you so much," Takaki added boisterously, smile wide.

Atsuzawa jabbed a pointy elbow into Takaki's side, making him fake a flinch and a hurt look.

"This kid here," Atsuzawa leaned close to Akechi as if divulging a secret, "got sucked into a pretty bad scam back in the day. I was the attending officer at the scene. It was the Koganehasu round-up. You know it?"

"The big drug ring you cleaned up five years ago?" Akechi frowns as he tries to remember, and Atsuzawa's shark grin in response makes the waitress passing behind them scuttle away.

"You do know my cases! A big fan of mine?" Atsuzawa says lightheartedly as he picks up his own chopsticks to stir the beef into his rice. "Anyway, I found this big lug there explaining to one of my guys that he didn't know that he'd been trafficking drugs. For months."

There's a slight sense of horrified awe inside Akechi when Takaki manages to finish his extra-large bowl and slam it on the table. It nearly knocks off the can of chopsticks loosely placed at the edge, and only Akechi's quick reflexes save it from dropping on the floor.

"Atsuzawa-san!" Takaki protests even as he waves the waitress for another bowl. "I couldn't help that I was a country boy! They looked friendly enough when they approached me!"

"Yeah yeah, you're a big street-smart city-slicker now, I know," Atsuzawa replies, voice sarcastic and fond as he reaches for extra soy sauce. "I always have a hunch for these things, and I've learnt not to ignore my hunches. I listened to the kid and dug deep for him, or he would've been in jail too since he just hit eighteen. I thought that'd be it, but imagine my surprise when last year, he popped in my division as a fresh graduate from the police academy."

"I'll forever be in your debt, Atsuzawa-san!" Takaki grins as he enthusiastically dug into a second extra-large beef bowl. Akechi smiles blandly at the scene before glancing down at his own food and wonders if he's just slow. He'd been heaping a spoon with rice before stacking a bit of beef on top before eating it together at a pace he considered moderate, but he hasn't even finished half his own medium-sized bowl. "Your kindness inspired me to become an investigator, and I managed to become good enough to choose your division when I graduated police academy!"

"Yeah yeah," Atsuzawa mutters, scratching his stubble as he averted his eyes. "Stop talking with your mouth full, that's disgusting."

Takaki chuckles, cheeks bulging, before scarfing down the rest of his bowl without comment. The juxtaposition of his casual suit, large frame, and the rate of his eating drew in more than a few eyes, and Akechi meets each of their gazes with a smile of his own until they look away.

A sharp elbow knocks his own, and Akechi meets Atsuzawa's knowing gaze. It's crinkled in wry amusement, and Akechi adjusts his smile into an innocent one. Atsuzawa snorts. "And you, kiddo, stop eating so little. I've heard reports from Naho that you sometimes just bring an apple for dinner, you know."

Takaki gasps in horror beside him, managing not to choke on his food just in time.

"Akechi-kun! No!"

"I'm fine, Takaki-san, Atsuzawa-san," Akechi replies, neatly placing a piece of beef into his spoon and swallowing after chewing a few times. With Atsuzawa's boneless slouch in the corner and Takaki's enthusiastic eating, he wonders how he became the one with the most table manners out of this group. "I eat until I'm full, so please don't be concerned."

"How is an apple ever enough?" Takaki's distressed expression is dripping with an annoying sincerity that's hard to handle, and Atsuzawa is clicking his chopsticks in amusement until his face changes, grimacing at his phone buzzing on the table.

"Ugh, it's the old man. Be right back," Atsuzawa promises, sliding out of the booth to take the call outside.

"You should pick on Atsuzawa-san," Akechi says to Takaki, waving a hand towards Atsuzawa's mushed up bowl of food. He'd eaten even less than Akechi, mixing the beef, sauce and rice together into a gloop that seems to only have a few bites eaten out of it.

"I have," Takaki replies in continued distress, looking at the bowl of uneaten beef. "He keeps saying eating too much ruins his concentration, and I do know he eats enough with Naho-san prodding him. But as his subordinate, I cannot help but feel concerned!"

"You care a lot for Atsuzawa-san, don't you?" Akechi asks to continue the conversation, eating another bite of his beef bowl with precision. Takaki's beaming grin returns back to his face.

"Of course! Akechi-kun, Atsuzawa-san skipped a lot of stuff with that story, but I'm not lying when I said what he saved me from was really bad. He was the only one who believed in me, even when my own parents ditched me to save their reputation." Takaki's expression is vividly reminiscent, his voice not quite soft. His large hands cradle the cup of tea in his hands as his gaze transforms into something gentle. "He's my inspiration! He's someone I can confidently say I'd do anything for!"

Akechi finishes his bowl while Takaki's last sentence rings in his mind.

Anything. That's quite a dangerous sentiment to have.

Akechi places a friendly smile on his face and speaks with an edge of humour.

"Anything is quite a statement to make, Takaki-san," he says warmly, and Takaki replying enthusiasm is unsuspecting.

"I mean it, Akechi-kun! I believe in Atsuzawa-san so much, I'd even jump into gunfire if he ordered it!"

There's a wry rasp of a voice that rings over their heads at that. "No-one is jumping into gunfire on my watch. What are you two even talking about anyway?" Atsuzawa has one strong eyebrow raised as he looked at the two of them dubiously, only to snort when Akechi turns around with his most innocent magazine smile. "Alright, I won't pry into your beeswax. Rookie one, with me back to Headquarters. Rookie two, go back home and prepare for school."

"Yes, Atsuzawa-san!" Takaki salutes, loudly praising the food to the waitress as she comes to pick up their empty bowls.

"Please wait for a second," Akechi says to the both of them, before smiling at the waitress. "May I ask for a takeaway box, please? Thank you," he says when the waitress nods and pays the fifty yen required when she returns. He proceeds to pour Atsuzawa's unfinished bowl of food into the box, and firmly close the lid on the gloopy mess. "Here you go, Atsuzawa-san."

Atsuzawa scowls at the box but takes it and shoves it in his backpack, while Takaki turns shining eyes at Akechi.

He can already predict what he's going to say.

"You're a genius, Akechi-kun!" Takaki exclaims, and Akechi laughs politely.

"I just thought someone I respect as much as Atsuzawa-san would never waste food," he replies, a little sly, and Atsuzawa looks at the two of them before rolling his eyes.

"Alright, stop ganging up on me, I'm too old for this crap. Go, shoo, I'm sick of the both of you together. I'll see you tomorrow, Akechi."

Akechi bows them off first, before heading to a different subway station to go back to his dorm.

He thinks.

For the past few months with Naho, he hasn't neglected to observe the rest of the office. He's been around the building a few times running errands here and there, and sometimes his organisational skills are pulled by some other parties.

Under Shido, he was the Detective Prince for two years. He met the people he needed to meet, heard rumours of the rest. He has an excellent memory for people, and familiar faces greet him wherever he went these past months.

In his past life, he had never met a man called Yoji Takaki.

A fatal accident, blamed on Atsuzawa. Atsuzawa, who seemed to care a great deal about his team and subordinates, judging by how he treated Naho, Takaki and Akechi himself. Atsuzawa, solving the case but retreating.

"I'd do anything!"

Matters, Akechi thought as he sat in the subway scrolling through his phone, were slowly clicking into place.

The next few days after school he follows Atsuzawa's orders and goes to Asakusa where they proceed to bust three restaurants in succession for the possession of drugs, with forensic testing on the go to determine whether they were the same as the type supplied by Shibata.

"I think we can risk riling them up a bit," is Atsuzawa's response, and Akechi follows behind the team of police that Atsuzawa requested with brimming interest. People are pulled out to be questioned, others face sanctions and their businesses closing down, and Akechi notes down all their names just in case.

It's a good enough distraction as any, for his personal plans.

The moment he had returned to his dorm, he picked up his other phone and switched it on.

The first message was clear enough.

Minoru Kanda. Personal Aide to the Minister of Nuclear Compensation.

Shido's first Palace request was accompanied with a wince of shock at the next notification.

[HoneyOTU: 758 UNREAD MESSAGES]

Akechi stared down at his phone before first taking a shower. Then he sat on his bed and took a whole hour to scroll through Futaba's messages.

They ranged from day to day musings about curry, Sojiro, how comfy her blankets were, and how glad she was to have her computer rig again (any decent rig, she claimed, needed at least five screens), to her frustrated attempts at getting him to respond back.

The messages stopped approximately five hours ago after a string of increasingly abstract memes.

[HoneyOTU: …I'm not going to give up you know.]

[HoneyOTU: Mom always called me stubborn, but I prefer calling it 'knowing what I want']

[HoneyOTU: I'm sick and tired of not being able to help friends who I know I can help.]

[HoneyOTU: Be prepared, GA!]

Akechi paused, before delaying his sleep and going to the Metaverse. He checked on Wakaba's condition (still asleep) before connecting his phone to her laptop and backing up everything he has onto it.

By the third restaurant raid, November was just around the corner, and the chill testified to the changing of the seasons. At school, his peers were dreaming of Christmas already, thinking what to do when winter break came. A few boys were boasting about the dates they would take their girlfriends, while others groaned in jealousy. As Akechi was regarded as part of the honour student group, some tried to drag him into conversations regarding cram school, exams, and plans for the future.

As usual, Akechi kept a smile on his face as he followed along with their troubles, murmuring a few placating words here and there.

Was he looking for a date? A girl asked, fluttering her eyelashes hopefully, and Akechi laughed inside while turning her down gently. He had too little time as it is, let alone to dedicate some of it to fulfilling a teenage girl's romantic delusions of him.

In the shadows, he planned his second-biggest lie.

Minoru Kanda was a well-established second-generation rich boy, who got the job as the Minister's personal aide through his parent's connections. The aging Minister's office and the delegation of funds were viewed by him as a get-rich-free ticket, and his Palace manifested as a resort where he was free to exploit everyone he encountered through his personal connections.

It wasn't a hard Palace to manoeuvre. The glittering sands of the resort with its stereotypical waving palm trees nestled a bewildering maze of a resort filled with cheerful slaves offering their money to Kanda was easy enough. It only took two days before Akechi was able to reach the summit, where the distorted Shadow of Minoru Kanda lied, spouting the usual self-serving words Akechi was used to.

"Those cripples don't need so much money," Kanda justified, indolently sloshing a martini glass. "All that money is better served with me because I'm a person who actually knows how to spend it! Ahahahahaha! You intruder, who has invaded so deep into my beautiful haven, will now face—"

Akechi didn't bother listening to the rest of the Shadow's words, striding quickly forward and with a quick movement, jabbed Wakaba's completed COMA AGENT into his neck.

As the syringe emptied, the Shadow underneath his hands struggled to transform, the form nearly bubbling into something greater, something more, before it settled back down. Kanda's yellow eyes fluttered, his voice croaked a surprised, 'What did you do—', before he collapsed on the steps.

In a few seconds, the whole Palace was quiet. Waves stopped beating the walls, light froze into solid beams. Grinning servants all froze with him, before dropping onto the floor.

The Palace fell asleep, just as Kanda did.

Akechi gave him a kick to make him lie straight before quickly escaping the Palace.

Although it is a shame that the man didn't die, it still fulfils my needs. Good job.

I am not an unreasonable man, Akechi.

I will uphold my side of the bargain. Send me your reports and do your weekly tasks, and I will only give you Palace targets once a month.

GA: Thank you, Shido-san. I will be sure to uphold my part of the bargain, please be assured.

Akechi watches the news, as an agitated news reporter decries the corruption within the current Ministration of the government. With Minoru Kanda's unexplained coma, now being supported in hospital, investigations to his health had instead discovered his government embezzlement for the funds dedicated to nuclear radiation victims still desperately in need of help.

"We cannot forget the importance of our history," Masayoshi Shido was sombrely speaking in an interview. "Japan is forever scarred by the consequences of nuclear radiation, and to know that humanitarian efforts to help such victims were being mishandled is a travesty that needs to be answered. Someone has to take responsibility."

Conversation derailed to who, in fact, should take responsibility, and Akechi turns to look out the window.

The hidden camera there is gone. Though that isn't enough to let him completely trust his surroundings, it gives him a small breath of relief.

On the crest of November, Akechi is at school eating his convenience store lunch at his desk when his screen inexplicably lags. In his hand, the phone warms to the touch.

Akechi narrows his eyes.

Taking out the second sandwich from the clear plastic carton, he uncaps his bottle of water and pours it into the carton until there's a shallow puddle. He then promptly places his phone inside and watches the screen as it flickers and dies.

Across the city, a girl watches as the program she uses stalled in the middle.

[CONNECTION BROKEN]

A hand smashes the desk next to her keyboard. "Damn you, GA!"

She digs her hands into her long hair in frustration. "Ugh, dammit. You leave me with no choice. I want to get revenge for mom too, dammit!"

"Kirijo-san!" The head of cyber-security practically ran towards Mitsuru the moment she stepped into the room, and Mitsuru looks directly at the middle-aged man.

"Report," she commands, striding past him towards the wall of monitors that she set up for better conferencing when it came to more… delicate matters. Right now, however, all the screens were a glaring, acid green as a bright logo kept flashing on them. It was self-explanatory which hacker had passed Kirijo's military-grade cybersecurity.

MEDJED

Mitsuru had heard more than a little about this group of self-styled justice hackers. Thinking themselves modern Robin Hoods, they've targeted many major corporations across the world, leading to resignations, stock upheavals, and a heightened debate on international cyber law and the distinction between transparency and private information. Thankfully, most of Kirijo's affiliates have avoided the hacker group, as Mitsuru was adamant on keeping the Kirijo consumer brand as reputable as possible. However, seeing MEDJED's logo gave her echoes of past headaches from sitting behind the desk for too long, as business partners continued to fall through on their deals. She feels herself reflexively wanting to rub her temples just by looking at the name.

"What is the situation?" Mitsuru asked, a deep frown on her face. Her manicured nails tapped her arm as she sent a stern glare up at the screens.

"We detected an unknown intruder deep within our systems when it was too late," her head of cybersecurity was blabbering. Great skills but weak nerves, Mitsuru sighed in her head. "We think they have accessed our client records as well as every single one of our transactions with our affiliates in the past five years. We managed to stop them just in time before they reached into the R&D division, but even now our team is fielding their hacking attempts. I'm ashamed to admit it, but the man behind MEDJED has skill beyond what we can withstand long term."

Mitsuru frowns, looking over her shoulder to see her whole team of world-class professionals working together with the utmost faces of concentration. Now and then there is tech jargon being thrown around the room that Mitsuru does not care to understand in-depth – for that is the quality of a leader, to trust a subordinate's expertise.

"How long do we have?" Mitsuru asks, looking down to meet the deputy head's face. With her heels on, he only reached her chin.

The man grimaces, adjusting the thick glasses on his face.

"Twenty minutes… maximum."

"According to what I understand of MEDJED's modus operandi, they have no reason to target Kirijo group as of now," Mitsuru says calmly, and as expected the head of cybersecurity also calms a little at the sight of her taking leadership. "Therefore, they must have a demand for us. Do you have any idea about what they want?"

The man quickly turns around and waves a harried arm at another worker, who hurries to give a piece of paper to Mitsuru. She takes it and reads it quickly.

[WE DEMAND TO MEET NANA MOMODA]

[WE DEMAND YOU GIVE ANY INFORMATION REGARDING HER PARTNERS]

[WE DEMAND YOU GIVE ANY INFORMATION REGARDING THE CONSPIRATORS AGAINST HER]

[IF YOU DO NOT WE WILL RELEASE ALL THE INFORMATION WE HAVE FOUND ABOUT YOUR PAST EXPERIMENTS]

She controls herself before she expresses any outward surprise, though her fingers crease the paper in her hand.

Nana Momoda is the alternate identity they've given Wakaba Ishikki under their custody. For MEDJED to know even that much is an incomparable oversight on their part. Even so, Wakaba Ishikki is an irreplaceably important key to reach the boy they all cannot forget, the one who sacrificed his life for all of them to live. To reach Minato, who had patiently taught her all about the world outside her family name, to let her grow knowing that she did so for herself and not for anyone around her. They have placed the highest importance and security around Wakaba Ishikki's recovery, with Aigis herself by her side.

However, she notices that the demands are not malicious regarding Wakaba Ishikki.

Mitsuru narrows her eyes in thought before she turns.

"Send a message. I, Mitsuru Kirijo, head of Kirijo Group, have decided to agree to a meeting with MEDJED in regards to the demands shown."

Before her head of security could say anything in response, his eyes widen as he looks behind her. The green wash on his glasses flicker as if something is moving, and Mitsuru turns around to see that every screen behind her is typing a message.

[WHEN IS THIS MEETING, MITSURU KIRIJO?]

Mitsuru narrows her eyes, even as the room behind her flies into a panic.

"I have unavoidable business that will cut our discussion short if we enact our negotiation now," Mitsuru says smoothly, crossing her arms confidently and holding her head high. "Tomorrow, at noon, I will be in my office and arrange ample time for us to make a deal. Please accept the link to our discussion now."

There is a flurry of activity behind her as her team does as she said, before the screen in front of her blinks again.

[KEEP YOUR AGREEMENT, MITSURU KIRIJO]

[OR YOU WILL KNOW THE CONSEQUENCES]

The screens in front of her immediately stop blaring their acid green, going back to their normal feed as if nothing had happened. Mitsuru keeps silent for a second before her sweeping gaze passes the head of cybersecurity, who is dripping sweat.

"Keep this matter a secret," she said to everyone in the room, voice powerful enough to reach even the back. "I expect every single exploit MEDJED used to infiltrate Kirijo's systems to be patched up by tomorrow, with a report on my table by the morning. Understood?"

After receiving a firm affirmative, she gives them all a smile and a formal nod before sweeping past them and out the doorway. Outside the windows bordering the corridor heavy storm clouds edge the horizon, swept in by easterly ocean winds that block the sun, and Mitsuru continues striding forward towards the elevator.

"Arrange a car for me to depart," she says to her assistant who greets her the moment she steps off the elevator onto the ground floor.

"Yes, Mitsuru-san," her assistant bows before quickly arranging it. She steps into the car without pause, taking out her tablet to review some work while her driver takes to the roads of Yokohama. As she flicks through the work she needs to assess, she cannot deny that she feels a growing edge of anticipation.

Change is brewing, and it has been a long time since Mitsuru Kirijo has failed to transform change into progress.

And, she thinks with a confident smile, she will ensure she will not fail this time either.

Chapter Text

It's always something of a marvel for Akechi when he walks out into the turn of the seasons. Winter has not come yet, but the golden-red blaze of Autumn had already passed, decorative trees placed along the streets stripped to their bones with only a few straggling leaves here and there. The cold was coming in early, its breath a reminder of the relentless passage of time.

After New Years will come April. April will mark spring and the start of the new school year, where Akechi will live out his second year of high school in wait for Akira when he arrives in his third. Then it would be the beginning of the end, as he can finally join Akira and his band of Thieves to change Shido's heart and face whatever was behind together.

They exchange texts relatively often. Akira had never been prone to social media to the extent that many others of his peers were, often letting chats run ahead of themselves before replying in short phrases and falling silent again. A lurker, Akechi had thought with a bit of humour, in all aspects of his life.

It had been one of the biggest surprises of his life when he woke up and found an incoming text from Akira. Although all it said was [Good morning], he cannot, even once, remember Akira ever initiating a conversation through text.

It is ridiculous, he told himself, to feel happy over such a minor matter.

Akechi stuffs his hands into his pockets and allows himself to enjoy the clear morning air. Alongside Akira's text this morning, he had gotten a text from Naho asking him to fetch Atsuzawa from his apartment. Having said yes to the request, he left the subways at Jinbocho and follows the large street for a while before entering the street of used bookstores still opening up their businesses. Volumes and volumes of yellowed books greet him, walls of text that can't help but attract Akechi's eye with some of their titles, before he slides past them towards a stairwell that lead to one of the old apartments above.

On the third floor, Akechi stands next to a yellowed concrete divider where he takes a moment to watch the bustling view of eager book hunters on an early Sunday morning. Doublechecking the placard next to the door does, indeed, say [Atsuzawa], Akechi rings the doorbell.

The barks of two excited dogs reply before any humans. He hears skitters of paws on the floor and something scratching against the door, before racing back deeper into the apartment with excited woofs.

When nothing happens for another minute, Akechi rings the bell again.

"Alright, alright, I'm coming," Akechi hears a loud yawning sound that accompanies the barking that grows louder again. "Momo, Pochi, no, no, cut it out, I need to open the door. Sit. Sit! Good dog."

The door clicks open a crack, and Akechi smoothly enters before shutting the door behind him. In front of the shoe area is a sleep-deprived Atsuzawa, a strong shadow on his face with eye bags still as prominent as ever bending over to pat the two fluffiest dogs Akechi has ever seen. One of them has yellowish peach fur, which he'd guess would be Momo, while the other was a darker caramel, and they both peer at Akechi with bright eyes and tails swishing.

"Do you mind dogs," Atsuzawa blinks blearily at him, his low energy a distinct contrast to his two pets. "Sorry if you do, I can probably herd them to my room for a bit if you want."

Akechi laughs softly as he takes off his shoes and steps into the apartment proper. "Don't mind me, Atsuzawa-san, I don't have any preference regarding animals. Good morning, by the way."

"It's Sunday," Atsuzawa bemoans as he finally stops petting the dogs for them to immediately wind around Akechi's legs, sniffing his trousers curiously. "No Sunday morning is a good morning. After this case I'm going to apply for a three-week break," he grouses as he waves Akechi forward towards a moderately sized living room. It's well-lived in, used books filling bookshelves to the point that books are nearly spilling off groaning shelves and a few house plants with varying levels of health in various corners. Akechi avoids the large couch and sits on a smaller chair even as Atsuzawa mutters something to the effect of 'wait a minute gotta get ready'.

He pats the peach-furred dog because the other had wandered off to follow Atsuzawa. It seems like it had taken a liking to him, putting its head on his knee with its tongue out. It's surprisingly warm, even as Akechi continues to stroke the fur on its forehead and over the shell of the ears. One of them is smaller than the other, ravaged sometime in the past and healed long ago.

"I see Momo took a liking to you," Atsuzawa comes back changed from his loose t-shirt to a more respectable button-down, as wrinkly as ever. Akechi absently wonders if he's ever heard of an iron. "Did Naho send you?"

"Yes, Atsuzawa-san." Akechi replies as he keeps his hand moving on Momo's head, feeling the thin skin underneath his fingers, the ridge of the skull. Delicate. "She says that you weren't answering your phone and that they found an issue that needed your help immediately."

Atsuzawa rolled his eyes even as he tucks himself into his trench-coat, hunching his shoulders in them when they fit comfortably. "Of course they do. I'll call Fusa and get him to send someone to take care of the dogs. Bye, Momo, Pochi. Ugh, stop licking me, I just washed my face."

It takes a few minutes for Atsuzawa to extract himself from his two dogs, quickly shutting the door and locking it before either of the two can slip out, waving Akechi to follow as he strides quickly down the corridor. As they walk past the walls of books, both of them breathing in the smell of aged pages, Akechi hums before finding a topic of conversation.

"Your dogs are very friendly, Atsuzawa-san," Akechi says pleasantly as they wait for a streetlight to turn green. Atsuzawa laughter is loud in reply.

"Too friendly," Atsuzawa replies with a wry smile. "You saw how they treated you, right? I bet if a burglar ever broke into my house they'd just lick them to death. Utterly useless," he rolls his eyes fondly as they cross the road and enter the subway.

"What breed are they?" Akechi asks with benign curiosity. It's something that many of the rich ladies who kept their dog in their arms had loved answering when he'd mingled with Shido's goons. But it's also a question that many dog lovers inarguably love to answer, so he tilts his head curiously as to Atsuzawa's answer.

Atsuzawa scrunches his forehead, searching his pockets for his wallet as they neared the ticket gates. "Why does everyone ask that question? I have no idea," he replies as he beeps himself through and looks longingly at a store selling baked cheese tarts down the other side of the station. "You patted Momo, right? Notice anything about her?"

"Are you referring to how one of her ears was quite tattered?"

"Yep," Atsuzawa replies as they enter a subway car and promptly leans bonelessly on a plastic divider, rubbing his eyes. "I adopted the two from one of those animal rescue shelters. Their mom was thrown out when she was pregnant and she gave birth to her litter on the streets." It's with a little grimace that he continues. "They were found after a bunch of kids kicked their mom to death, and some other kid had some sense and called their parents. The other puppies were too starved, and those two were the only two who survived after the rescue. They're scarred a bit under all that fluff, and Pochi runs with a bit of a limp so no-one really wanted them, so I was like whatever and took them in."

Akechi's smile doesn't falter, even if the story does touch the strand of dark cynicism that floats into his mind. It's a story that doesn't particularly surprise Akechi at all. He has seen what children can do for the purposes of fun, what people will do to anything they see as weaker and lesser than them. For feelings of superiority, power, control…

What people will do for validation can be horrifying, after all.

"I feel sorry that your pets had to go through such an experience," Akechi responds. "I've read that humans are at their most violent stage in their toddler ages and early childhood, tempered only by education and a growing understanding of social norms…"

He's stopped in his thoughts when a hand lands heavily on his head. It then proceeds to ruffle his hairstyle until it's unrecognisable, and Akechi bears this with a deadpan silence.

"Kid, kid, don't think too much about it." Atsuzawa's smiling face is lit by the sick white lights of the subway, highlighting its haggard sharp lines. "You're going too deep. There are shitty people, like those who kicked Pochi's mom, and there are great people like those who saved those useless fluff balls in my apartment. The point is, you can't change it, so don't let those things affect you."

Akechi blinks. Other than the vague annoyance he feels that his hair is, once again, ruined, he lets his curiosity show on his face for Atsuzawa to pick up. With a roll of his eyes, Atsuzawa does.

"We're the police, we're supposed the good guys. No-one will be happier than those evil-doers if we get demoralised and depressed and think existential crap. That's why it's our duty as good citizens to live our lives well, got it? Prove to those bad guys that it's just as great to live a great life as a good person."

Akechi rolls the idea around for a little in his mind. It makes sense, that the biggest insult he could give to those who wished for him to fail was to succeed. That's why he had always strived to be the best, after all.

It's perhaps the destination of those thoughts that diverge – while he strove to become the utter best regardless of others, Atsuzawa was promoting life as a 'good person'. Undoubtedly, that means being considerate of others.

As Atsuzawa's words seem to be the key to another rank up in their Arcana, Akechi tucks the idea in the back of his mind as he poses another question.

"Is that why you adopted Momo and Pochi?" Akechi asks, and Atsuzawa leans back now, back to being a boneless noodle leaning against the door.

"Hell no. Who thinks this sort of deep stuff every day? I just wanted a dog, and I thought that they looked fierce. They were kind of scarred and ugly and I was like, hey I'm scarred and ugly too, and took them. Next minute they grow up cute as fuck, and when I take them out for walks my niece laughs about a moe gap. Ugh," Atsuzawa groans and Akechi hides a smile behind his hand even as he reaches into his bag and takes out a comb.

"You're not ugly, Atsuzawa-san," he says placatingly, and Atsuzawa raises an eyebrow.

"Coming from our resident pretty-boy? I bet you get a tonne of Valentine day chocolates every year." Akechi keeps pointedly silent as he brushes his hair back to perfection using the dark reflection of the glass on the doors, and Atsuzawa sighs. "Where was my springtime of youth…? Oh right," he remembers with a scowl. "People thought I looked like a gangster, so they picked fights with me all the time and that scared all the girls off. Man, I hated school."

"Careful, Atsuzawa-san," Akechi says as he tucks his brush back into his bag, turning back with a shiny smile on his face. "The dignity of your leadership is slipping."

"Impertinent brat," Atsuzawa grins. "We're at our stop, let's go. Let's get to business – know anything about what Naho wants me to do when we get there?"

Akechi climbs the escalator steps with him.

"Mitarai-san wishes that you organise another round-up. An investigator went undercover into a restaurant in Asakusa and has confirmed the presence and dealing of drugs. That isn't all – he identified a relatively famous ya member suspected to be part of the Tenkosai clan, the one which you previously reported had succession issues since the beginning of the year…"

"Great. Let's pick up the pace, Akechi."

"Yes, Atsuzawa-san."

Justice Rank 3 – Fusazane Atsuzawa

Mitsuru sits in her personal office, legs crossed as she waits for the call the start. It's a large office for the sake of corporate structure and symbolism, to let employees know that this is something that they can work for in their life, but it does create a lot of space that she leaves empty in the excuse of 'minimalism'. There are the normal things, her achievements and past successes, a few bookcases and the token plant to break the monotony of the light cream of the leather sofas and walls.

Her desk is filled with paper, files, and an unobtrusive computer set up, along with a dedicated space for her laptop. However, her eyes are drawn to the corner, where she has placed a few photos.

Because she has set all her photos in special UV reflective glass, none of the colours have faded.

There is a photograph when she was young, and smiling with her father. His face is young and unburdened in their holiday home in Provence, and never fails to bring a smile to her face in nostalgia. Next to that is a photograph where she was officially accepted as the next head of the Kirijo group, surrounded by the trusted directors that she has known since young.

The last one has migrated from her desk since her school years.

Every single member of SEES smile back at her, from Koromaru in the corner to Junpei slinging an arm around Minato whose smile is slight but detectable, Aigis standing right behind him. Yukari sticks close to the boys, smile wide next to Ken and Fuuka, while Mitsuru and Akihiko stand slightly behind with more moderate smiles. It is a blessing in retrospect that Ikutsuki was the one taking the photograph, as this memory is not marred by his presence.

This is a photo that all members of SEES have, something that both inspires joy and the moment of transformed horror when they realised that Minato was not merely sleeping in Aigis's arms.

Her negotiation today is their next key to unravelling a solution.

It's with determination that Mitsuru brushes her hair behind her shoulder, switching on her laptop and busying herself with a few documents for Kirijo group. A proposal for a new marketing strategy for winter sales, preparing new items for Christmas… She's not nearly done when noon approaches, but she sets everything aside in preparation for the incoming call.

She is confident. She has stared down old businessmen who looked at her long hair with derision, competitors who vied for her market share, men who fought for her affection in insidious attempts to take her position in the company and crushed them all under her heel.

Mitsuru Kirijo does not lose.

At noon, all her screens bleed green.

"Hello, Medjed," Mitsuru smiles, red lips spreading in a sumptuous curve. "Shall we begin our negotiation?"

[WE MAY BEGIN, MITSURU KIRIJO]

"What do you think, Akechi, Takaki?" Atsuzawa gives him a stack of paper, and Akechi takes the stack and splays them to glance through all their headlines. Profiles. He scans them through and nods, letting Takaki take his own glance through.

"I agree that these homicide cases are a directed message at somebody," Akechi says at a scribbled note Atsuzawa made. "These attacks seem personal. There is no need to intentionally bleed out a body, and assassinations are usually quick and to the point. The amateur set up in both Shion Gen and Eiji Bando's murders are explained as the culprit hired amateurs to do the deed. However, the woman in our custody only explained that she needed to bleed the body out by both wrists per request. That doesn't provide a reason."

"Bleeding the body is a very specific action," Takaki agrees. "It would be a good idea to investigate deaths that have similar causes, including suicide, and investigate whether they're connected to the case. If the murder style is a provocation, we can find out who is being provoked that way."

Akechi nods in reply, and Atsuzawa's sharp gaze cuts to him. "If we proceed with suspecting that Kazuichi Hiroto as the main culprit, then we can try to see if any of those deaths relate to Kazuichi. We need to know who he is directing these messages to, and why. By records and examination of his tattoos, he is not part of the Tenkosai clan that is currently having a succession dispute, but as Asakusa is their shared base of operations, they aren't necessarily completely unrelated."

"I propose this as another avenue of investigation," Akechi gets up to search through his own desk, before pulling out a piece of paper and rejoining Atsuzawa's huddle in the middle of the room. On it is a profile with an artist rendition, a death certificate, and a valid address. "Does anyone remember the Yahiro family? Hideki Shibata is still a missing person, and finding Yahiro might be a clue towards finding him. I have already identified their current address."

"Good, you two!" Atsuzawa's slasher grin is in full force. "Takaki, on the field. Find the Yahiro family, and see if they have any dirt. Akechi, stay in the office and search up records of anyone who has ever died by slit wrists connected to Kazuichi Hiroto, Asakusa area, or the Tenkosai clan. I'm going to finally nail down why this succession dispute is taking so long. Great teamwork, you guys."

Atsuzawa chucks them both a vending machine coffee and waves Takaki to go.

"Kid, you won't feel left out? I'd get you to shadow us if I could, but we're out of hands." Atsuzawa checks in before he leaves, and Akechi gives him a polite chuckle, already beginning to click through the databases.

Research has ever been his forte. His organisational skills had been something no officer had doubted in his last life. He'd been pulled into investigations to help research and organise data many times, his observations on said data, however, dismissed.

That's why he'd liked Sae, after all. Before she transformed into the bitter woman with a Palace, she had listened to him both thoughtfully and sincerely, which made him gravitate to her long before Shido or the SIU Director had advised him to.

He wonders what she's doing now.

"Atsuzawa-san, please rest assured. I'm more than happy to be given such a task. I'll be sure to give you the results by the time you come back."

"What a promise!" Atsuzawa laughs as he walks off. "Don't overwork yourself, but also, that's the spirit, kid! Keep up the great work!"

Justice Rank 4 – Fusazane Atsuzawa

[I DO NOT APPRECIATE HOW YOU'RE DRAGGING OUT THIS DISCUSSION, MITSURU KIRIJO]

[IT IS NOT HARD TO UNDERSTAND]

[I GIVE YOU BACK YOUR RESEARCH IN EXCHANGE FOR ANY INFORMATION YOU HAVE]

The words bleed strongly across her screens in a threatening tone, but Mitsuru has already relaxed. The past ten minutes has reinforced a few ideas that Mitsuru already had.

One, MEDJED's negotiation style is immature. They are primarily made of demands and threats and are easily overturned by wordplay. A few comments from Mitsuru about the worth of the information in their hand sent MEDJED into a short silence that screamed of petulance.

This fits with her previous profiling of MEDJED's activities, even before direct contact. Hacking to expose corporate corruption and loudly announcing their declarations with lines such as 'We are MEDJED, we are unseen, we will eliminate evil' reeks of youth activism. MEDJED is most probably young, at most early twenties.

With this lack of social skill, however, Mitsuru is estimating their age to be somewhere in their mid to early teens.

Second, their digital prowess is not to be underestimated. She had quickly asked Fuuka a favour last night to track what MEDJED had done to access Kirijo's systems so deeply, and Fuuka's polite reply had been brimming with admiration even as she helped resolve the issues MEDJED left behind.

Knowing this, Mitsuru now prepares the true meat of her response.

"My apologies. I will come to my final question," Mitsuru says, tone switching to her normal, brisk pace. "The content of your demands are not on course for your usual agenda, Medjed. Targeting large corporations, illuminating corruption, exposing insidious government policies… those have been the majority of your actions. However, your demands this time are far more personal."

The chat stalls enough that Mitsuru knows that she has hit a pressure point.

"If I'm guessing correctly, and you do not wish harm on the true person behind Nana Momoda… we don't need to negotiate at all. We can cooperate instead. We seem to both wish to illuminate who Wakaba Ishikki's partner is, after all."

MEDJED does not reply. The screen is filled with their past discussion. Mitsuru has not even hinted at the fact that she didn't know who Wakaba Ishikki had been working with, or that fact that they are still in the middle of investigating the conspiracy themselves until now. She has faced with enough old foxes in her industry to talk like the best.

[DO YOU MEAN THAT YOU DON'T KNOW WHO ISHIKKI'S PARTNER IS, OR THE CONSPIRACY TARGETING HER?]

"Yes," Mitsuru says, voice firm.

[WHAT? THEN WHY ARE YOU PROTECTING HER?]

"This is something that I can only tell you if you agree to proper cooperation," Mitsuru voice businesslike. Undoubtedly MEDJED is watching through her computer's cameras, and she doesn't break posture even once. It's with special severity that she says her next line. "I will not risk Ishikki's personal safety, even at the expense of any of Kirijo's secret documents you hold."

[…]

[ALRIGHT, MITSURU KIRIJO]

[BUT ONLY IF YOU FULFIL MY FIRST DEMAND]

[I WISH TO MEET HER]

"That's contradictory," Mitsuru shakes her head. "If I won't tell you information about why we protect her because we haven't come to an agreement, why would I agree to let her meet you? You must know that we placed her in such stringent protection because of repeated assassination attempts. To arrange your entry to meet her, I will need to know your identity regardless."

After a slight pause, MEDJED replies.

[HE SAID SOMEONE WAS WATCHING ME]

[I DON'T KNOW IF THEY STILL ARE]

[…]

[ALRIGHT MITSURU KIRIJO. I'LL TRUST YOU. I'VE ELIMINATED YOU FROM MY CONSPIRACY SUSPECT LIST, AFTER ALL]

[I AM FUTABA ISHIKKI, WAKABA ISHIKKI'S DAUGHTER]

[I WISH TO MEET HER]

"That is certainly a surprise," Mitsuru says even though MEDJED has fallen into her palm as she planned. She certainly didn't plan this. "From memory, aren't you twelve?"

[I'm thirteen!] The text promptly writes in protest, and Mitsuru sits back in her chair.

As much as SEES had recruited Ken when he was ten, it wasn't purely by choice. He had been a precious Persona user in a time where resources to fight the Dark Hour was limited. Now that she isn't so limited, she much prefers recruiting those in adulthood or at least nearing there.

[Don't retract your previous statement now that you know who I am!]

"Of course not. If you are truly Futaba Ishikki, I will never stop a child from meeting her mother."

[You better keep your promise. I still have those confidential documents you know.]

[:U]

[I'll send you something secure to contact me after this so I don't need to do the Medjed logo every time.]

[Keep your promise! Or else. ://]

The connection cuts and Mitsuru squints at the strange line of symbols. A colon and two dashes?

A colon and a capital U?

What do those mean?

Akechi stands to the side as the others do the heavy work. Although he had proven himself as an excellent on-scene organiser, he arrived too late to truly contribute this time. It's only five-thirty and the round-up is almost finished. Settling near the back with coffee cups on hand, he watches as police finish cleaning out the building and take another three men into police cars for custody.

"Drugs weren't in the basement this time," comes Atsuzawa's scratchy voice through a walkie talkie. "We caught them just on time, they were loaded in trucks in the back."

"Good job, Atsuzawa," Akechi hears the officer reply. "Rendezvous with Mikami's team at the entrance."

After Atsuzawa's confirmation, it doesn't take long for the rest of the police teams to come back out. By then, Akechi's wandered close enough to the building that he manages to greet the tall figure of Atsuzawa as he steps out, greeting Akechi with a large grin when he sees the coffee in his hands.

"Gimme, I'm nearly dead." When he receives the cup he nearly pours the hot liquid down his throat. It's only after he's finished gulping the whole cup that he turns to Akechi. "We got a big break. We've nailed down a guy who's a bit famous today from the Tenkosai clan. If we get this guy to crack, we can probably find their hideout."

"That's great, Atsuzawa-san," Akechi replies, before bowing slightly in apology. "I apologise for arriving late and missing the opportunity to shadow you during this raid."

"There's always next time," Atsuzawa shrugs, speaking to a few other police officers to confirm a few things before waving Akechi into one of the police cruisers and entering the driver's seat. Tokyo streets soon pass by at a steady pace, drivers comically slowing down the moment they spotted them. As they weren't on traffic patrol, Atsuzawa ignores it. "Anything you want to report?"

"I've compiled a list of suicides on your desk that you can review later, Atsuzawa-san. Takaki wished to report this himself, but from interviewing the Yahiros, he has a hunch that Kazuichi Hiroto has a side-hustle consisting of giving others fake identities. He'll get back to you soon."

"That's great. I got a little feedback from my ya contacts, so let's mix and match all of that at Headquarters. The gang was a little resistant this time, so it took a little longer to get what I want. It's the first time they were so firm, heh."

"Atsuzawa-san, I've always wondered," Akechi asks, voice carefully balanced with an appropriate amount of curiosity. It's a question he truly wants answered, with a suspicion that it was a key towards raising their Arcana. It would, at least, provide stimulating discussion. "You have never truly spoken about the yakuza positively, but you're famous for actively collaborating with them. Even amid criticism, you don't change. May I ask why?"

"You wondering why I turn a blind eye, hmm?" Atsuzawa glances away from the road to Akechi, who is sitting politely.

"To be frank." Akechi nods.

"Well, there's no right or wrong answer, firstly," Atsuzawa muses as they drive straight into a clogged road. There's no irritation in Atsuzawa's face when they do merge into the snail-slow speed of Tokyo's peak hour traffic, merely taking the opportunity to lean forward onto the steering wheel.

"Crime's always going to exist, one way or another. When I took up my position, I had a choice – to keep those existing relationships with organisations like the yakuza and know what they're doing, or arrest everything I can see and know the majority is still there in the woodwork, only they're hiding better. Both have pros and cons, and after thinking on it I chose the first. The yakuza have an honour code, and one of them is to avoid implicating civilians. That and some other things made me decide to monitor them instead of hauling them to jail. The moment they overstep those boundaries though, they know I'll hunt them down."

"I see," Akechi muses. It's not one of Atsuzawa's opinions that he can apply to his situation with Shido. For one, he doubts if a man like him has any sort of honour code in the first place.

After their deal, Shido had been lying low, not really demanding anything and putting on pressure. Although he has a feeling that Shido is planning something behind his back, he only has a few guesses as to what they are. Akechi knows he is a pawn that has run away, but waiting for retaliation was a tiring process.

"I'm not going to decide what's right or wrong with a question like this," Atsuzawa shrugs. "You can tolerate the yakuza if you want, or you can go on a hard-line approach, but in the end, all you have to make sure is to not regret your choice afterwards."

Akechi's attention piques. Regret?

Grey eyes crinkling, coffee, the low sound of late-night news. A gun, and a belated realisation.

An early text in the morning.

I was a fool.

They inch along the traffic with the air conditioning set to warm, and Akechi wonders.

"How would you avoid becoming someone with too many regrets, Atsuzawa-san?"

"Simple," Atsuzawa replies, eyes on the next car as he inches carefully forward. "Make the best decision you can on what you currently know, so that even when you know more later on you can say to yourself, 'If I knew only what I knew then, I would still choose what I did'. Then learn and move on."

A million universes, a million decisions and revisions.

"The best choice, hm?" Akechi brings a smile to his face that eliminates any wistfulness that he may feel, leaning back to let his head lean on the headrest.

It may be simple, as he will not choose Shido this time, over and over again. He is undeserving of even a chance.

But also difficult, for he is still deciding what a 'good choice' is. A good person is a person who does good deeds. But was it truly? In the past, he had offered tutoring to feed his superiority, mocking his classmates for struggling with easy questions in his head. In any sense of the word, that does not particularly sound like what a 'good' person would do. Even in law, intent is a large part of criminal prosecution, and here lies his struggle. Which is better: to watch bricks being thrown while joining in the laughter, or watch bricks being thrown while striving to feel horrible?

Or is it to stop the bricks from being thrown while feeling nothing at all?

Sincerity of it aside, his pleasant façade makes everyone around him happy. He has mastered Saito's amae, he knows what each and every one of the people around him wants. He provides it, with flattery, laughter, smiles, and compliments. Past experience has told him, over and over again, that the best choice is to please the people around him.

He doesn't know.

"Yep," Atsuzawa replies, oblivious to his intern's internal crisis. "It's hard to do though."

"Indeed," Akechi acquiesces, a little wry, before going back to scroll the news on his new phone.

Justice Rank 5 – Fusazane Atsuzawa

"I don't know about this, this is all so sudden," Sojiro says in concern, and Futaba pouts.

"I know I didn't mention that I applied for the youth's tech convention, but that's because I didn't think I'd get a ticket! I-I know it's bad for me to delay going back to school, so I just applied for things I was interested in to get me out of the house again!"

Futaba says this quickly, lugging her hand-carry around. "It's just for two nights anyway! It'll be fiinee. I'm sorry for springing it on you though! I forgot to check my physical mail until yesterday and then I saw I got invited!"

"S-still," Sojiro insists. "Are you sure you're okay with this, Futaba? It's quite far away for your first trip outside by yourself."

"Yep!" Futaba grins, placing her hands on her hips to hide how they were shaking. "I even packed my mask, so I'll be uber fine! Don't worry, Sojiro!"

"Call me the moment you get there," Sojiro tells her, "and stick close to the supervisors. Actually, why can't I go with you again?"

At the bus stop is several other teenagers, youth from Futaba's age all the way towards eighteen. There's a large coach bus waiting for the children to finish saying goodbyes to their guardians, and a well-dressed woman with a name-tag smiles when she overhears their conversation.

"Don't worry," she says warmly. "The International Science and Technology Youth Convention is a prestigious event that we take with utmost seriousness. We place the highest priority on our attendee's safety, and are officially affiliated with the Japanese Educational Board."

"Yeah! I'm super excited!"

She's hamming it up a little – okay, maybe a lot – but Sojiro had always been a sucker for her smiles. It's not as if she ever acted often, so there's no reason to doubt, right?

"As long as you're fine with it," Sojiro caves just as she expected, smile wry and fond as he reaches out to pull her into a hug. It's something that Futaba can't help but melt a little into, craving a bit of security, before there are calls to board the coach. "Be safe, and call me anytime. I'll drive up there to fetch you if it gets too much, alright?"

"A-alright," Futaba tries not to let her voice shake as she leaves Sojiro's warm, bony hug. "I'll make sure to call when I get there!"

After running up the stairs of the bus to avoid looking at the driver, Futaba curls herself into a window seat, taking off her shoes to tuck her feet on the edge as she waves goodbye to her guardian. Although the bus fills up, there are more seats than people and its with a breath of relief that no-one tries to sit next to her.

She's nearing level 99 on an arcade game ported to mobile when they get there, and the kind teachers usher them out of the bus and into a tall, fancy hotel. There, Futaba silently pulls her luggage forward as she joins the line to the reception, placing her ID silently to the smiling woman when she becomes first in line.

"Futaba Ishikki? Wait a second…" The receptionist's eyes widen a little, before handing her a card that's slightly different from the rest of the students. "Here you go. Please go to the waiting area to the right. An attendant will be with you shortly."

Futaba nods mutely, before hurrying into the quiet waiting area before anyone notices. It's private, for one, having ferns and frosted screens dividing the area, but what draws Futaba's attention is the bowl of complimentary fruit on the table.

She's halfway through an apple when she hears a voice.

"Are you Futaba-san?" A gentle voice asks, and Futaba whirls around in shock to see a beautiful blond girl. Her blue eyes crinkle in a welcoming smile. "Nice to meet you. My name is Aigis."

"I-it's you!" Futaba blurts out before her voice gets stuck in her throat. With it comes the familiar sensation of oxygen fleeing her lungs as if her lungs were a burning building and they were all fleeing for their lives, and the short bursts edge her into panic wondering if it'll be a panic. With a quick flap of her hands, slaps the large doll mask that was sitting on top of her luggage and plops it on her head. In moments, Aigis is staring at the huge painted eyes on bright paper mâché. Also, Aigis notes, the girl immediately stands more confidently, breath easing. Social phobia?

After another minute where Aigis wonders if she should give the girl a little more time, Futaba points at her. "You're the girl that keeps sitting next to my mom's bed!"

"I see you've been watching me," Aigis nods. "I've heard from Mitsuru senpai that your hacking capability is as strong as another friend of mine, which is impressive. I don't know if you've heard of the hacker Lucia?"

"Lucia?!" Futaba squawks, instantly distracted. "No way, you know her? She's amazing! She doesn't show herself much in the community though. It's such a shame."

Aigis smiles, gesturing Futaba to walk first to a side exit of the hotel. "Yes, I know her. I know a little hacking myself, but it's not my specialty. I'd be glad if you can fix the hospital's systems so that no other hacker can access us with your visit, Futaba-san."

"I won't mind," Futaba mutters as she carefully steps into the expensive looking car that Aigis leads her to, her luggage taken by a professionally dressed man in a suit and sunglasses and placed in the boot. "If it'll keep my mom safe, I'll even add some of the extra traps I'm working on."

"My deepest thanks," Aigis replies.

The car-ride turns through the city towards the edge, where a large private hospital sits near the edge of town next to a gleaming river. Aigis slips her hand around Futaba's mask before she can whack it straight into the car door, the large bobbling head attracting gazes as she steps out.

Aigis pays them no mind though, as she leads Futaba inside the hospital. Nurses do double-takes when they see Aigis walking in the corridors carefully leading another girl behind in a large mask. Whispers quickly follow.

("Did, did I just see that?")

("They're VVIPs," another nurse urgently hisses. "Don't judge the actions of rich people, keep your head down!")

Futaba can't hear much besides the echoing of her own breath and louder noises like the piercing shriek of a baby down the corridor. She follows the blonde girl in front feeling kind of like a Gundam, all joints and no flesh, as she nears the room her mom is in. She knows. She ripped the blueprints of the hospital from their database.

"We're here," Aigis gives Futaba a smile that she doesn't really register because the opened door reveals a woman lying in bed that she thought she lost forever.

The mask is thrown off into the corner as Futaba races the few steps inside. Shoulder-length black hair, too many wires and machines to count. There are burn marks on her forehead and remnants of stitches, but it's undoubtedly her mom.

Mom, who woke up early to make her a bento every morning even when she was super busy. Piecing figurines together on the weekend when a new order came in, trying to shove plastic joints where they should fit and laughing at the ridiculous poses they make them. Mom, who always gave her a hug after their arguments and smelled like a weird mix of chemicals and lemongrass and taught her anything she wanted to know and encouraged her to finish her wish lists because 'responsibility is important, Futaba! Finish what you start, okay?'

Futaba's eyes well up in tears as she desperately scrubs her face with her sleeve. When a tissue appears in her vision, she takes it to blow her nose violently.

"Mom, I missed you," Futaba manages to say through a clogged nose, eyes still tearing up. "Everything was really bad when I thought you died, but you sent me your jerk of a friend and I'm living with Sojiro now, and I'm so glad that you, you're okaaay."

The last word turns into a long, drawn-out sound that transforms into a bawl, and a hand pats her back when she blows her nose into the tissue again.

"Do you want some tea?" Aigis asks, holding a cup in her hand, and Futaba nods through hiccups, taking it with both hands and nearly spilling it over half her face when she takes an especially hard sniff.

When the other girl calmed down a little, Aigis prepares her questions. Although Futaba does retrieve her mask from the floor to answer her, she mostly gets her answers.

A tale of how Futaba made a friend over the course of a month, who tried to take care of her when no-one would.

"GA was really paranoid, and I never did figure out how he always knew where I was moved to," Futaba muttered, crouching on her chair, mask tilted towards her mother's face. "But he saved me. We watched Featherman together. He replied to my lame memes with lamer responses, like why the gravity of a photoshopped picture wasn't logical. He's all anti-hero-y like Blue and I was going to be Green, but he gave me some sort of test first. I failed," Futaba mumbles. Her small hands cradle one of her mother's limp ones, playing with her fingers. Aigis can't see through the large doll mask, but the forlorn way her words were spoken gives her a pang of sympathy. "He was there one second, and poof! He was empty air the next."

Aigis listens to this with a thoughtful frown on her face.

"Give me a short report, Aigis."

Mitsuru listens to Aigis through a video call, leaning back into her chair as she thinks it all through.

"With this in mind, I can't help but re-evaluate the Tokyo Area as a place of high Metanormal activity. This is what I've found." Aigis shares a vision of a graph, and the gradual dip in it. "Analysis shows that despite Shadow activity rising in many other areas of Japan, Tokyo has had a drastic decrease in the past few months. In fact…" Aigis highlights, "it seems like since the beginning of last year, Shadow activity had been decreasing gradually until it hit zero percent by the beginning of June. Since then, Shadow Operatives have not been deployed in the Tokyo Area because it has been deemed a safe area. As of two months ago, due to our limited staff, we officially pulled out our last member to manage other affairs."

"A trend we haven't placed too much importance in until now," Mitsuru says. "However, the larger a natural meta-normal incident, the more bizarre the entry conditions," Mitsuru muses, watching the solid orange sunset descend upon the world. "The Dark Hour, the Television World, and now a boy that can melt into thin air, as if he's stumbled on a way to enter a distortion that we cannot enter yet…"

Aigis nods and continues. "If we take Futaba-san's statements into account about GA, it confirms that this is the boy that saved Wakaba Ishikki and sent us the report. If he worked with Wakaba's research, he knows about Shadows, and perhaps a level of cognitive psience. He's also working under duress underneath someone, ordered to finish matters he is reluctant to finish. It seems like there is a new incident rising in Tokyo that we can't sense, and perhaps another wave of naturally awoken Persona users arising."

Mitsuru frowns, staring out her office window. It's a beautiful view of the sunset over a concrete jungle, of a type of energy that only humans can create. Many lights have already flickered on in apartments and office buildings, millions of squares standing testament from the encroaching night. It grounds her, even while her coat feels heavy on her shoulders as she pieces the implications of the day's information in her head.

She imagines a young boy who just awakened to their power, like Ken. Although Ken is now sixteen and is a bright young man who she enjoys catching up with, now and again, listening to his stories of high school and indulging reminiscence, she imagines a scenario where Ken was still ten and taken by another Meta-aware organisation who wished to do evil.

Awakening his Persona and being told to pry open transmogrified coffins in the Dark Hour. When the soul is freed and eaten by prowling Shadows, Ken being pinned with the blame of another Apathy Syndrome victim before being threatened as the cause of the incident and shackled to the organisation's whims.

It's a thought that makes her clench her teeth in fury.

"Right now we have no jurisdiction in Tokyo, whether through design or coincidence," Mitsuru says sombrely, clenching her sleeves to rein in her anger from her voice and posture. "The government has always been wary of us, and if we make a move with no reason to return they may treat us with hostility."

"What can we do?"

"There is no difference. Although we can continue investigations, Futaba Ishikki's statements do not hold enough identifiers for us to create a solid profile. The main key to everything is still Wakaba Ishikki. We need to wait for her to wake up. Continue protecting her, Aigis."

Aigis solemnly nods.

"Understood."

"What is fate?" Akechi had once asked.

"Fate," said his friend in reply, "is the choice of all beings culminated into a single point in time."

A fleeting smile, the faint rattling of a distant chain.

"That is why it is so hard to break. We are, in essence, singular. A single grain of sand on a beach."

"It doesn't mean that it is impossible, however."

A laugh.

"Don't I stand testament to that?"

Chapter Text

"Kazuma and Shibusawa," Atsuzawa provides in office, as all three wait to report their own findings. "I finally wheedled their identities out of the old men. Here."

He places two photos on the table. One is a blurry side profile of a short, but stocky older man, approximately in his forties surrounded by bodyguards. The other photo is of a younger man, perhaps late twenties, with strong features coming out of a hotel.

"Remember the Tenkosai clan in Asakusa? Well, these are the two people who still haven't resolved the succession dispute. The older one is Shibusawa, the previous head's nephew, while the younger one is Kazuma, the previous head's grandson. They're both pretty competent and it's the typical story – the conservatives prefer Shibusawa, the younger generation likes Kazuma, and they've been cats and dogs since last year."

Takaki frowns seriously at the two pictures, contemplating, as Akechi tries to match these portraits to the drug and murder cases they had been chasing.

Takaki straightens up first. "Please look at my evidence. Akechi-kun, you were onto something, when you said that we should track down the Yahiro family. Remember Morio Yahiro, who was supposed to have died? I found his little sister living in Akihabara, which isn't too far from Asakusa. After promising that her identity will be anonymous on record, she told me that Morio's truly not dead. Here's the evidence she provided."

Takaki opens up his bag and pours it onto the table - stacks and stacks of fake IDs, with all sorts of generic faces and photographs already prepared on them. Takaki nods solemnly.

"Morio's been forcing his sister to let him use her apartment as a base for his fake identity operation. Apparently, Hideki Shibata was a family friend, and when Morio was nearly caught in a serious assault and robbery case out of town, Shibata stepped up and gave Morio a fake identity so he could escape criminal liability. Since then, Morio has been part of Shibata's group."

"Then it can be assumed that Shibata is still safe somewhere," Atsuzawa says, picking up one of the fake IDs and examining it. "If the witness saw Morio evacuating Shibata and Morio is Shibata's friend."

Akechi looks at his two senior investigators then and reaches backwards for a folder on his table.

"May I please have your attention, Atsuzawa-san? Takaki-san?" Akechi takes the most recent piece of paper onto the table. A printed colour picture of a man's back stands out on the table of monochrome documents, figures of fierce red oni and azure dragons with long whiskers intertwining in front of the rays of a rising sun. "Do you remember how we've been raiding restaurants that had a relation to Kazuichi's affiliated yakuza clan? The yakuza man we managed to apprehend hasn't cracked, but someone in interrogations managed to recognise his tattoos. It all ties together - the rising sun motif is most commonly associated with the Tenkosai clan."

"Ugh, great," Atsuzawa immediately groans. "Just what I feared. That's why the old men were so reluctant to tell me their names."

Takaki frowns up at Atsuzawa, but Akechi's mind is already racing ahead.

Before this, although there was suspicion that Shion Gen's murder and drug peddling was related to a larger power, the yakuza clan had been one option out of many. As everything is tying together, it seems obvious Tenkosai and all its succession issues were the main culprit.

Atsuzawa's immediate dismay…

"Atsuzawa-san," Akechi sits straight, furrowing his brows. With one hand on his chin, he reasoned it out. "Are you suspecting that they may be trying to use the police force to solve their succession dispute?"

"Wait, what?" Takaki glanced back down at the documents in front of him.

"We've previously established that the murders are sending a deliberate message," Akechi explained his thought process, glancing over all the documents on the table. "Other than the fact that they were murdered strangely and sloppily using disposable pieces like the woman we caught in Nishi, it was their murder that led to uncovering a deeper drug ring that led to Atsuzawa being pulled on board. Hideki Shibata's disappearance placed increased importance on Eiji Bando's murder. All three cases seem like bait."

Takaki frowns. "I see. However, there's still a distinct difference between Hideki Shibata and the other two cases. Shibata is still just a missing person, while the other two were murdered."

"It doesn't matter," Akechi shakes his head, putting his hand down now that he's more confident with his train of logic. "With the affiliated man in Kazuichi's restaurants being related to the Tenkosai, with the premises we raided holding Shibata's drugs, we now come full circle. We can assume that Kazuichi is affiliated with the Tenkosai. Therefore, it is simple to surmise the relation. Someone approached Kazuichi, who has a network of criminals under his command and is removed from the immediate impacts of the succession dispute, to strike the blow. Once done, officials like Atsuzawa will take the case and slowly unravel the mystery, leading to one of the two leaders."

"Oh, I get it. Other than the succession dispute," Takaki says thoughtfully, "there's no real reason to do such obvious crimes for the Tenkosai right now."

"Yes, Takaki-san," Akechi nods, sliding Takaki's research closer to him so he could read it. "Peddling drugs is a way to get rich fast – and I imagine having enough capital is an important aspect of nurturing trust in your followers. Dealing with an illegal drug ring can be a major hit to a group. If we only get rid of the drug ring, we'll help the opposition. If we get rid of the drug ring and track down who is responsible, we will resolve the succession altogether."

"I hate being used," Atsuzawa groans, sliding down his chair. "I think so too, Akechi. Everyone knows I don't tolerate drugs, murder, and illegal trafficking." He scrubbed his eyes tiredly with a sleeve. "I don't mind watching people play with fire if they're not using me as the fire."

"Then there's a problem," Takaki frowns. "Discounting Shibata for now, Gen and Bando's murders have different motives. Shion Gen was a drug dealer, but Eiji Bando was lying low. Even though my investigations into the town revealed it had been a past base of sorts, Bando didn't even come up on the radar."

"Was there miscommunication going on between Kazuichi and the mastermind?" Akechi wonders.

"While we think on that, give me your reports on those suicides, Akechi. Give me a short report. Who's most relevant? That'll probably give us a clue on whose faction is using us to target the other."

Shook out of thought, Akechi blinks for a moment before nodding. "Right, Atsuzawa-san, the full report is on your desk. The ones highlighted in pink are related to the yakuza, green for Asakusa area. I didn't find any links to Kazuichi directly."

"Got it," Atsuzawa nods and starts flipping through the folder and Akechi turns towards Takaki with the lingering question in his mind.

"Takaki-san, why do you suspect that Morio Yahiro's fake identity business isn't part of the yakuza, but instead one of Kazuichi's side-hustles?"

Takaki shrugs his large shoulders. "First, he doesn't have tattoos. Second, his sister said he got jobs based on commission, like the woman we arrested. Seems like good enough for a hunch."

"I see," Akechi smiles and nods in thanks, and Takaki beams back just in time for Atsuzawa's page flipping to stop. Both look at him, as Atsuzawa places the folder down and does a quick search. Only a minute later, Atsuzawa sighs.

"No need to look further." He points to a name highlighted in both pink and green. "This is Kazuma's sister. Apparently, she committed suicide back in 2010. Found in the bath-tub with slit wrists."

"…So if the murder is a taunt targeting Kazuma, we suspect Shibusawa as the main culprit for the murder while the drug ring is Kazuma's?" Takaki asks immediately, before scrunching his eyebrows. "But it's such an obvious taunt, what if this is Kazuma's move to place the suspicion on Shibusawa?"

"Is it time for more investigations, boys?" Naho sticks her head in, a smile on her face. Seeing the mess on the table, she prods her glasses back up her nose. "I hope you've been productive because I bought dinner!" She waves large bags of takeout in her hands from Big Bang Burger.

"Dinner!" Takaki beams, immediately standing up to take the bags from her hands while Akechi starts efficiently clearing the table. "You didn't have to, Naho-san! You are entirely too kind!"

Naho smiles back. "Now that's some polite appreciation! Thank you, Yoji-kun. A certain somebody should learn, shouldn't they?"

"Can you not nag me for one day, Naho?" Atsuzawa asks, even as he perks up at the smell of burgers wafting through the air. When Takaki places the large bags onto the table, Atsuzawa quickly sneaks a hand in to steal a few chips before anyone can even look at the contents.

The burgers are eaten quickly when they are distributed though, Naho only sticking around for half that time before needing to hurry off to an appointment or another, and Takaki watches her go with a glowing expression on his face.

"Isn't Naho-san so perfect?" He sighs wistfully, and Akechi raises an assessing eyebrow at him as he wiped his greasy fingers on a napkin. "She's so professional and organised, and she cares for us so much…"

Atsuzawa lazily eats another chip as he scrolls on his laptop. "As I've said a thousand times before, Takaki, Naho's single. Ask her out if you want."

"Oh, no, I could never," Takaki shoots up, face red to the ears. "She's an amazing lady, smart and efficient and patient, she can go for anyone! I'm just a greenhorn who's younger than her by five years… and she's also my superior, Atsuzawa-san. I make so little money, I barely pay rent… Except for my sincere feelings, I have absolutely nothing to offer her!"

"Yeah, Naho cares about none of that crap," Atsuzawa rolls his eyes. "Just go for it, she likes hardworking guys."

"Even so, Naho-san deserves someone better than a person who has only worked hard and has achieved nothing!"

"Yeah, yeah, keep on mooning," Atsuzawa smirks before he turns to Akechi. "Kid, it's getting late, you can go home for today. I'll arrange a prison interrogation for our friend Kazuichi tomorrow, but it might be during your school hours. You think you'll be okay reporting to Naho before seeing if you can join us?"

"Alright, Atsuzawa-san. However, if you permit, I can always apply to leave early from school," Akechi offers, and Atsuzawa rolls his eyes.

"Hey, Mister Scholarship Student, you shouldn't talk about skipping so easily." Sticking a lollipop in his mouth, Atsuzawa grins while crushing the sugar between his teeth. "We've got a lot of progress done today, and I know we split up quite a bit, but remember. We're a team."

"And teams work together and depend on each other!" Takaki finishes the sentence on a loud exclamation. Atsuzawa eyes Takaki with a grumble.

"Don't steal my moment, Takaki. Giving advice is my job, you know?"

"Sorry, Atsuzawa-san!" Takaki cheerfully salutes, and Akechi can't help the small smile that comes somewhere from a confused tangle of emotion in his chest. It's warm, the strong back-clap Takaki gives Akechi as he passes by him to the exit. Police Headquarters last time had never been such a welcome sight after school before, always somewhat of a chore as officer after officer would pull him over to help with miscellaneous tasks they didn't want to do themselves.

"See you tomorrow, Akechi-kun!" Takaki sticks his head out of the door and waves against Atsuzawa's bark to sit down and work, and Akechi waves back over his shoulder.

He leaves with bags of trash in his hands, casually dumping it all in a larger trashcan by the elevator. Even seeing a few previous colleagues from his past life in the elevator who had constantly mocked him for being a 'Detective Prince' didn't bring down the strange sense of serenity he felt.

Somehow, it's hard to think bitter things in their company.

It had been the same with Minato, with Wakaba.

With Akira, in moments when he let Shido's orders to kill him fade to the back of his mind.

Perhaps, Akechi thinks as he takes the long way back to his dorm, that is what friends are for.

Justice Rank 6 – Fusazane Atsuzawa

"They're not in a good mood," Naho whispers to him the moment he passes her next afternoon, and Akechi gives her a sympathetic grimace.

"Did the interrogation with Hiroto not go to plan?"

"The opposite, actually," Naho replies, wiping her glasses with her shirt and putting it back on her face. "Hiroto was actually really forthcoming with his part in the whole affair the moment they sat down with him. He admitted guilt for both Gen and Bando's deaths and admitted that he evacuated Shibata too. He's going to go to trial again for all of that, but that's not the point."

Akechi waits as they pace towards their small office.

"Hiroto admitted he was affiliated with the Tenkosai clan, but he denied giving more details as to who told him to target Gen, Shibata and Bando. It doesn't help that Atsuzawa-san thinks he has his own motives…"

"He's given us a date!" Atsuzawa hollers through the doorway. "I can hear you, you know!"

"I'm telling Akechi-kun what you would anyway," Naho retorts right back, before waving Akechi through and following him. "But I'll let you finish."

"Basically Hiroto was being a sly bitch and didn't give us any confirmation on things we wanted to know but gave us a date and two locations," Atsuzawa scowls, even as Naho narrows his eyes at him.

"Atsuzawa, language!"

"God, Naho, he's a teen! He probably swears like a sailor the moment he's not with adults!"

"I usually refrain from swearing, Atsuzawa-san," Akechi replies politely, and Naho shoots Atsuzawa a vindicated smile. Atsuzawa rolls his eyes.

"Of course you don't. Anyway, he hasn't given us much time to prepare. December fifteenth, there are two locations he gave us in Asakusa, and he's promised that both the Tenkosai heirs will be in the buildings at six PM. One's a karaoke bar, the other is a love hotel."

"And today is the ninth," Akechi frowns. "Six days is…"

"Tight? Yeah, I know. I've already sent Takaki to investigate the karaoke bar, and you caught me just as I was going to go to the love hotel. Other than that, Naho is going to start applying for men and warrants so that the moment we come back we can start preparing. Hitting two places at once is a pretty big op. Sorry kid, I'd ask you to shadow me today if I'm not investigating a love hotel."

"I wouldn't have allowed it anyway," Naho says with a warm smile, and Atsuzawa fakes a shiver.

"Yeah, wouldn't want to make Naho angry, she runs the office. Anyway, look over our interrogation with Hiroto if you want, and you can help Naho with applications today, alright?"

Atsuzawa rushes out of the office on that swift goodbye, and Naho turns her smile at Akechi.

"I've already taught you these applications before, Akechi-kun. I don't mind doing all of these by myself if you want a break today. Sorry for not telling you before so you didn't have to drag yourself all the way here."

"No, it's fine. Maybe I'll leave early today. Around five-thirty, perhaps? But I'll gladly assist you until then, Mitarai-san."

Naho's smile warms a few degrees, and they both head to their desks. Akechi scans Hiroto's interrogation, transcribing and filing it accurately into their case folder before assisting Naho with applying for assistance from the general force and leaving early with her blessing.

Sometimes, Akechi wonders if Fate is really so kind, as he buttons up his coat and pulls a scarf around his neck. His case in hand, he walks out the door and wind through the corridors and offices of other special investigation units.

There was something he'd wanted to do on the 9th of December, 2014.

When he meanders past general investigations, a familiar voice cuts through the soft hubbub of the office.

"I'm asking you to provide evidence!"

There's an emphatic note to the sharp voice, as someone slams a folder onto a table, and Akechi lets his gaze drift naturally across the area just like many others. The familiar grey head of hair is leaning forward intimidating a cowed young man, sharp eyes narrowed. Her suit is immaculately put together, ironed and professional as Sae Niijima purses her lips in impatience.

"If you don't get me this evidence now, I can't close this case and put a sexual abuser behind bars. Is that what you want?" She demands to the man, who sweats a bit as he rolls his chair backwards.

"Ah, Prosecutor Niijima, it's nothing personal. Yoneda-san asked me to refrain giving more evidence for now as things are inconclusive."

Sae does an impressive snort of disdain. "Him again," she says, straightening up with one impatient finger tapping the table. "Of course it's inconclusive, he's spineless. I bet he's already buried this case under another five and told you that the department is too busy, am I right?"

"Eep!" The man responds, and Akechi hides a laugh behind his palm from his position in the corridor.

Sae's frank honesty is as refreshing as ever.

"Just give me what you have," Sae sighs, and the man quickly rifles through his desk and passes a thick folder into Sae's hands. Sae looks at it with a sour look on her face. "Paper? You don't have any digital versions?"

"Sorry, Prosecutor Niijima! Yoneda-san said you can't access our network with your current level of security!"

"I see. Well, if you find any conclusive evidence in the next week, please contact me as soon as possible." Sae replies and turns around to exit. Akechi has by then pretended to walk quickly past the doorway, timed so that Akechi would knock the folder from Sae's hands.

The folder falls to the floor and spills everywhere, and Sae looks absolutely done.

"I don't have time for this," she mutters with her hand to her forehead, as Akechi immediately puts on his most regretful face and bows.

"My deepest apologies, I'll help you pick these up."

As he bends down and starts picking up the papers, Sae sighs and does so too.

"No, it's an accident. I can't blame you. It's just unfortunate timing."

Akechi notes Sae's tired eye bags underneath the makeup she always applies meticulously, and the slight slump of the shoulders that Sae usually only ever has when she's into a case five days deep without going back to her apartment to truly rest up.

"Since this is my fault, would you mind some assistance with putting everything back in order? Apologies for my late introduction, I am Goro Akechi, an intern for the Special Investigations Unit for Organised Crime. I was heading back home early anyway."

Sae looks at the messy folder that she holds and they both ignore the faint snickers around the office around them.

"I would normally refuse, but I do need these documents read through by tonight," Sae says, standing tall again. "Thank you for your offer, Akechi-kun. I am Public Prosecutor Sae Niijima. You can just call me Sae if you wish."

They walk quickly down the corridor to the elevator, and Akechi follows naturally a step behind. "No worries, Sae-san. I'm glad to be of use."

They settle down in the seating area near the front foyer, a quiet area that has a view of the street outside while still blocking noise by thick glass doors. By now, a few officers were leaving the premises now and then, and Akechi turns his full attention into sorting out the documents in his hands.

Just as he expected. This was the case that Sae had once told him about.

It's a memory over cheap conveyor belt sushi, rice disproportionately large to the thin slice of fish on top as Sae ate with relish.

It was relatively new in Akechi's career as a Detective Prince, still an odd presence in the Police Headquarters. Sae had been one of the few to not flinch or disdain his presence as a mere teenager. It was with his help that Sae had finished a case quicker than usual, and she had treated Akechi to sushi as thanks. It was crowded for dinner time, and Akechi could even see a small line of people waiting outside for a seat as he turned his attention for the basil cheese salmon he ordered.

"Last December I was on a case that I couldn't resolve on time," Sae recounted to him, tone faintly didactic when Akechi expressed doubts over his capabilities to smoothen conversation. "The investigators on the case were uncooperative – I literally went to them every day from the ninth to the eighteenth, that's more than a week – and the victim's statement was judged as too subjective. However, something about his alibis didn't feel right. I only realised what it was after the case was finished in court – on one of his many interrogations he made a slip. On one of his transcripts he said he didn't know what time it was, on another he said he had dinner at seven-thirty on the day of the attack."

Sae had a faintly dissatisfied look on her face when she chewed through an eel sushi whole.

"If I had that in addition to all I had, I could've tipped the scales and made them delay the trial so I could finally nail him down. But I didn't. That failure could've cost me," Sae said, voice quick and to the point, "but then I won my next ten cases spectacularly and no-one could deny my place."

Akechi sorted through the pile of messy evidence and put it to order while Sae typed furiously on her laptop, posture still impeccable as ever as she frowned seriously at her screen. The perfect opposite to Atsuzawa, Akechi thought with humour, as he finally pulled out the two transcripts with the discrepancies on them.

"Sae-san, I've finished with organising the files," he tells her, and Sae looks up from her laptop with a small smile of appreciation.

"Thank you," she nods, before frowning when she sees the two pieces of paper in his hands. "Wait, you can't take any of the evidence away. Put them back."

"My apologies," Akechi says, before ignoring her order and placing it in front of her. "As I was sorting through the information, I couldn't help but notice that you were working on Juzo Nezu's case?"

Sae pauses, eyes honing to his face. "And? Do you know about it?"

"I've heard a little around the office," Akechi lies as he laughs a little to defuse Sae's intensity. "As I was sorting through the papers, I was skimming the transcripts in interest and noticed a small detail. If you look here…"

Akechi points. "In his interview back in September, didn't he say he didn't have any way to recognise the time of day because he was working inside a casino without windows or clocks? But later, in his transcript in November, he says he had dinner at seven and smoked outside when he took small breaks in his shift… which definitely means he knew the time of day, Sae-san."

Sae pauses before she practically snatches the two pieces of paper in his hand and skimming it herself. When she reaches the two parts Akechi pointed out, her face breaks into a happy smile, even if it is slightly vicious.

"Yes, this is the last key I need," Sae exclaims, carefully smoothing the two records out and taking a photo of each, tucking it into her own personal folder. She turns her gaze back to Akechi, much warmer than before. "Thank you… Akechi-kun, was it? You've assisted my case greatly."

"No, it's always a pleasure to further the path of justice," Akechi replies, the words rolling off his tongue, and Sae's gaze warms a little more. "I hope your case goes smoothly."

Sae was always easy to manipulate, as pleasant as her company was. In essence, she was too upright of a person, with honesty as her guiding principle until her values were ground down by the corruption around her.

"You're an intern at an SIU already, and you look my sister's age," Sae nods. "You have bright prospects, Akechi-kun. I'm glad to know the future of our justice system is in such good hands. You're leaving now, right? May we meet again."

Akechi laughs. "You flatter me too much, Sae-san. If we bump into each other in the future, I'll be glad to assist you again. I've always been curious about the prosecuting side of the law."

Sae's smile finally blooms into something warm and welcoming.

"Alright, I'll welcome the assistance. See you around."

Before Akechi leaves, the world freezes just as he expected. Just as he planned, months and months ago, before he was taken in by Atsuzawa in a fit of luck.

Somehow, the Arcana always finds ways to make him surprised.

Not the Hierophant, but the Moon?

But standing around would stretch the moment into awkwardness, so Akechi bows and leaves with a pleasant smile on his face. He has a few assignments he has to finish anyway, in preparation for the storm he predicts is Atsuzawa's main event.

December the 15th is in six days.

He reaches back to his mind and grows solemn.

Justice Rank 6 – Fusazane Atsuzawa

This may be troublesome.

Pinning down Atsuzawa is a difficult task. As a hands-on leader, near round-ups or any sort of operation, Atsuzawa flits around everywhere. As much as Akechi tries, Atsuzawa is just not available for a time to sit down and talk, to share ideas or explore the views that Akechi has realised was the driving factor in their Arcana, or even, their actual mentorship. Unlike Wakaba, addicted to science and willing to give time whenever a whiff of research was involved, Atsuzawa is whisked around to the point where it would be hard to see him if it wasn't Atsuzawa making a point to swing around the office for a few minutes every afternoon.

He sees Takaki a little more often, the big man inviting Akechi to shadow his investigations and operations whenever he can. Although his constant joviality is still sometimes grating, Akechi watches and learns all the same. Takaki is serious when he gives Akechi tips on how to confront a hostile target, coos whenever they pass a dog being walked on the street and tells self-deprecating stories of his police academy days to coax Akechi into laughing with him.

He is a good man.

As two days fly by and Atsuzawa is still in deep talks with various other agencies, Akechi thinks as he follows the large figure sliding through the metropolitan crowds of Tokyo proper.

Gentle eyes.

We are all singular. A single grain of sand on a beach.

Valiance.

Others will live their lives, fight their fights. That is the nature of the battlefield – a million lives, a million battles, and yours only one of many.

But when he pulled Morrigan from the depths of his soul, when he awakened her, hadn't he resolved himself to fight, and claim a better future for himself? To fight and reclaim everything that he ever wanted, because Akechi has always been greedy for all the things he's seen others have and been denied. He wants those just dues that everyone had just been given, wants people to see him and see something extraordinary.

"Goodbye, Akechi-kun! See you tomorrow at the office!" Takaki waves at the subway station and Akechi allows his usual smile to float to his face.

"See you, Takaki-san."

Naho's welcoming exasperation, Atsuzawa's strange mix of lethargy and frenetic energy. Takaki's enthusiasm and cheer, with Akechi, somehow sliding into all of this with his calm, little barbed quips.

And he allows himself to think with a vicious possessiveness of something hard-won; he wants their small bubble of warmth in the office to never end.

Akechi looks at the sky and thinks.

Yes, there's still time to add another card to his hand.

Not using all the cards in his hands is only a sign of hubris, and he's fed his hubris enough. Hasn't he proven himself to Atsuzawa already, with his skills and knowledge that didn't come from the Metaverse? Especially now that their suspect has confessed his guilt and he has a solid target.

Akechi has always been a pragmatist.

Around the corner are the high walls of a prison facility. When Akechi read through Hiroto's interrogation, a few key words had stuck in his mind. He's confident when he takes out his phone. His eyes are cold when he says three phrases into his phone.

"Kazuichi Hiroto. Yokohama Prison. Circus."

The Metaverse Navigator beeps in his hand in confirmation.

[Beginning navigation]

The air warps, and the world turns into darkness. The buildings shimmer into a dark foreboding forest that Akechi stands within, the trees gnarled grey things that reach into the night sky with branches of metallic blades and leaves of barbed wire. There is a faint light in the direction of where the prison had been through the gaps in the trees, and the warped sound of stilted accordions echoes towards him. When Akechi steps forward, he notices that the ground is not soil – the trees around him are planted in concrete, hard and unforgiving.

Ducking carefully underneath the canopy of barbs and knives, Akechi reaches the entrance of the main Palace soon enough. It's a large open ground made into a maze through large metal cages of exhibits crowding the area, sorted into various different areas with a tent in the middle. Shadows dressed in prison gear with splashes of old paint on them shamble around mumbling about pleasing 'The Ringmaster'.

In the middle of the whole area was the largest tent of all, a rainbow affair that had seen better times, lit up by roving spotlights. In the few minutes that Akechi stood outside to examine, there were periodic fireworks that would spark and fly up to light the area in bursts of bright colour before fading again. They light up the half-rusted silhouette of a welcome sign above him.

Akechi has been into enough Palaces to know how to judge their difficulty.

Some are simple affairs. Rooted in a certain building, the Palace owner's warped cognition doesn't extend far into the city proper and usually attracted weaker Shadows into their cognition. Slightly stronger Palaces were larger, more messy affairs. Although still rooted in a building, the Palace could change the weather, the time of day, warp space and reality to the point of unrecognizability to their real counterpart in the world. Navigation could be difficult in those without preparation.

The third type changed Tokyo altogether. In those, the Palace owner's cognitions have reached past their own possessions to a warped view of their entire world and manifested into reality. Although he hated to admit it, Shido's Palace had been the strongest he'd ever seen. That crumbled, apocalyptic world and the shining beacon of Shido's cruise had left nothing at all to be salvaged from Tokyo. There had been a drowned beauty in that perpetual sunset. Of a society, he had thought while standing on the bow watching the rippling shadows of a submerged city, reaping it's just dues.

Although Kazuichi Hiroto's Palace seemed like the second type as the circus only existed within the prison premises, Akechi raised his vigilance.

Tokyo had completely vanished, after all. To Hiroto, the outside world had become a place of penalty, hurt, and barren suffering. Warped cognitions strong enough to transform the world around him.

As Akechi stood there, a sad, drooping marching band of Shadows marched by playing a mismatched circus tune, offbeat with one another as they wound past the entrance back deeper inside. The music had a lonely feel as they faded back into the maze of cages and iron bars.

As another burst of rainbow fireworks splay across his face, Akechi steps forward. Morrigan's feather mantle settles heavily over his shoulders the next second, as he uses the rope he always brings and climbs the nearest cage.

No airborne enemies.

Akechi runs across the lines of cages beelining for the main tent in the middle, armour making soft clinks on the bars as he carefully balances and jumps off them over the patrolling Shadows beneath.

There are some times when he has to inevitably drop to the ground so that he can climb the next strategic line of cages. This is when he comes face to face to the odd human caricatures in each cage. Some are encased in odd contraptions, others are groaning, tortured messes on the floor. Each and every one has a placard in front of the cage describing who they were.

All of them victims of Kazuichi's criminal affairs throughout the twenty-odd years he's lived in the prison, and Akechi bites back disgust at some of the bloodier cognitions that groan on the floor, begging for forgiveness.

He climbs Freak 187's cage, a cognitive young man crumpled in the corner of the cage with his fingernails ripped out and a blindfold over sunken eye sockets, and the stench of rotting meat follows him as Akechi carefully manoeuvres through the Palace.

It's mostly flat, and the infiltration is easier than expected. It's curious – Akechi passes many defunct security measures that would have probably cost him much time, but they are rusted over and collapsed. Even the Shadows he passes murmur of 'Hiroto-sama's decline' and how 'their circus might not survive any longer'.

The main tent arrives after a solid half an hour, and he slips inside into a crumbled arena. The centre ring is dusty and ruined, and the seats around them are broken and in disrepair. In the middle stands a man in an old, out-fashioned three-piece, with a top hat and a cane. A comical handlebar moustache sits on a sly fox-like face, eyes beady as they zoom to Akechi the moment he steps through.

"An intruder," Kazuichi Hiroto says, smile flitting to his face. "Going past all my security without even notifying me once… I've truly grown dull."

Akechi checks the sword on his hip before he pulls out his gun and steps forward. When he fully steps into the only functioning spotlight, the Palace Ruler widens his eyes.

"Oh, I recognise you! Part of that hunter's team, aren't you? Your face and name came by my reports… Yes, yes, Goro Akechi. Recently joined intern. Welcome! Welcome to my grand circus!"

Akechi ignores the Shadow's dramatic spin as he walks closer. The fact that Kazuichi Hiroto hasn't called anyone nor had any ready Shadows around him only showed the extent of his mental isolation. It's something that works well when it happens, and won't be remedied unless Akechi actively points it out. He hasn't been so stupid since his very first palace.

"Kazuichi Hiroto, I presume?" Akechi steps up, gun in hand. "I wonder if you would be amenable to some questions?"

Kazuichi stops spinning to regard Akechi with an exaggerated look of rage.

"Do you think I'm stupid?!" Kazuichi stomps like a child. "Do you think I would be willing to share my secrets with the police? You think I'm dumb, don't you? You think me an idiot?"

Akechi's finger twitches on the trigger.

"I'm not truly asking," Akechi says with his blandest voice, finally levelling the gun to the Shadow's face, readying himself for the ruler to transform when they face the threat.

It's to Akechi's surprise when the Shadow presses his face into the barrel of the gun instead, his previous rage gone to the wind. Eyes suddenly widened to the limit, they rove up and down Akechi's body before resting on his face in intense interest.

"Oh. Oooh. How strange. How very, very strange. Is it my instincts going wrong, or do I seem to sense that you have the eyes… of a murdereeeer?" Kazuichi Hiroto laughs as he leans further into the barrel of Akechi's gun, tilting his top hat with mocking respect. "You can't deny it, I've lived too long among the rats. You have that gaze…" The Shadow leans in, yellow eyes narrowed before the face split into a large gaping laugh. "Yes, yes, how ironic, how absurd! A murderer sliming his way into becoming a police detective! Justice is being served indeed!"

Akechi's lips are pursed into a stern line as he shoves the barrel into the Shadow's cheek until the Shadow finally relents and leans backwards.

"Enough of this talk. What is your relationship with the two heirs of the Tenkosai group?"

Kazuichi smirks. "Hey, what's with the roughness, Detective Intern Goro Akechi-kun? No thickness between thieves? No sympathy for a fellow murderer? Shouldn't you be on this side… with me?"

"I wouldn't even be speaking to a man like you," Akechi spits, "if I didn't wish to know more about your plans."

"Plans, plans, plans," Kazuichi curls a finger around one of his exaggerated handle-bar moustache, before plucking it off. He holds half the fake moustache in his hands, while the other sticks comically to his face, and he eyes it critically before chucking it over his shoulder. His asymmetry seems to please him when he finishes pondering. "I don't mind. We can make a deal. It can be the last bit of fun I can have in this dying circus anyway, haha! If you beat me, I'll tell you everything! If I beat you… You can become my newest exhibit! I can see it already, society's murder detective, hidden, a snake in the dark ready to prowl again!"

Akechi jumps back as the shout transforms into insane cackling, as Kazuichi Hiroto's Shadow starts bubbling, the tattered suit transforming into a looming spectre of a monster with seven heads connected to long human necks, all leering at him with different masks on their faces. Sets of hands juggle knives, another cracks a whip hard, and Akechi readies his pistol.

After unloading all the bullets he has into one of Kazuichi's masks and shattering it, he enters a familiar rhythm and dance. Tetrakarn, Megidolaon, Deathbound, Eigaon, Wakaba's strongest healing item, repeat.

The masks shatter one by one – both bless and curse skills aren't weaknesses or resisted, so it's only a matter of attrition. Akechi is feeling hollow as he pants harshly from the exertion when he finally stares down the very last face that emerged after he shattered all seven masks and cut off their crying heads. This Kazuichi Hiroto doesn't do much compared to the elemental storms he had to weather from the others – only poisoning him when he failed to resist.

Finally, Kazuichi Hiroto explodes into a cloud of billowing smog and reduces back into a human who promptly staggers and collapses onto the floor on his back.

"Fine, Goro Akechi," Kazuichi gasps. "You win."

Akechi finds enough of himself to walk forward, breathing past the few glancing blows that Kazuichi had managed to hit. There's a pain in his arm when he blocked badly that radiated throbbing heat when he presses his other palm on it, and his hip will have a bruise that'll last at least a week. Before he reaches Hiroto though, the Shadow's already talking.

"It's different when you're living like a captured dog," Kazuichi says as he stares at the dusty ceiling of the tent. He is splay-eagled on the floor, top hat somewhere to the ground far away and covered in the dust of the ring. "The food's different, the sky's different, the people around you mean different. Students come by the prison to gawk at us like we're exhibits. Life's a strange carnival, my murder-friend."

"I'm not your friend," Akechi says mildly, holstering his gun and redrawing his sword. "Don't think we share anything in common."

"Don't we? So you aren't the type to trample others for your own gain?" Kazuichi replies with a knowing edge of glee, yellow eyes slanted to sly glowing slits in his face as he rolls them down to look at him. Akechi stays silent. "You never had a life under your fingers and know you didn't need to kill them… but you did it anyway because it's more convenient for you? Ahahahahaha, guess what! I don't believe it! My instincts haven't been wrong for years!"

Akechi does not think of all the Shadows he's killed, just like this. Not now.

"Don't think that I'll accept your inane bullshit," Akechi says expressionlessly, grinding the Shadow's hand under his heel when he reaches him and leaning forward to create eye contact. "Speak. You have no other choice."

"Yes," Kazuichi sighs with ecstasy. "That's the sort of gaze I used to have when I was young. You're burning to kill me, aren't you? You feel that itch in your hands?"

"Speak. Your deal with the Tenkosai clan."

"Alriiiiiight. I always honour my deals, you know. There's nothing to lose for me even if I tell you aaaaall of Tenkosai's secrets now. Curious aren't you? Curious as to why I have nothing to lose, right?"

Kazuichi's eyes swim with anger even though his smile remains gaping wide.

"You want to know why I'm doing all of this? Yes, of course you do! Simple," Kazuichi replies, and his eyes curve into gleeful crescents. "I'm dying! Dying, after all these years! Got cancer a few years back, but survived it somehow. Doc said if I ever feel the symptoms again I'll have less than a ten percent chance to survive, even with the latest tech and money to splurge. Felt the symptoms a few months back and didn't say anything to the docs. Everyone has a bucket list, yeah? So I'm finishing it. Killing all the people I always wanted to, messing up those who messed with me."

Kazuichi Hiroto smiles, a dark empty gaze in his eyes that Akechi is all too familiar with. In the privacy of his room, in the mirror when he dropped his façade—

"I'm ending this farce those fools are living with my own hands," the criminal says with an unhinged satisfaction that touches something deep in his mind, a fleeting breath of mockery. In it is every one of Akechi's dreams of snapping Shido's neck in his hands.

Not now.

"Shut up," Akechi interrupts. "I'm not interested in you. Who are you helping? Kazuma or Shibusawa?"

The Shadow sighs. "Boring. I'll tell you. Shibusawa contacted me first, you know? He promised he'd get me out if I murdered a few people. Kazuma was winning because he took over his father's drug ring and was making loads. Shibusawa is an old friend of mine, so when he asked me to kill a few guys to weaken Kazuma's influence and expose the ring to the police, why wouldn't I?"

"A few?" Akechi frowns, and Kazuichi chortles.

"Yes. On the last of the list, I gave the kill a little extra service. Kazuma loved his lil' sis, everyone knows that. So I made it super triggering, haha! Slit wrists, just like little Na-chan when she offed herself! Shibusawa was mad that I did it though," Kazuichi rolled his eyes. "Said he wouldn't honour our deal anymore, so I protected the guy next on the list and told Kazuma aaaall about Shibusawa's plan. Kazuma was super ungrateful though, so I killed one of his goons just like his lil' sis another time. Heh, sure made him angry."

The discrepancies in the murderer's motives are suddenly clear.

Shibusawa contacted Kazuichi wishing to undermine Kazuma but didn't realise that Kazuichi had already become a loose cannon with nothing to lose. His terminal illness made Kazuichi lose all his inhibitions, and after being dragged into the conflict, had become a chaotic third party.

"Then what did you give Atsuzawa-san?"

"I was super honest, you know? I gave him their real bases. Nobody wants to be on the bad side of that hunting dog. December fifteenth is usually clan meet day, so there are usually triple the clan members in the buildings… but it's also the only day I can guarantee they'll be at their bases! Aren't I so kind?" Kazuichi flutters his eyelashes. "Now the police can get chewed up because they're not prepared, and both Kazuma and Shibusawa will fold like cards! Everyone is ruined! Hahahahaha!"

Akechi kicks the Shadow in disgust, but the Shadow merely curls up and continues laughing.

"What are you going to do now, friend? Are you going to crawl out and try to fake being the sane little boy everyone wants you to be? Gonna report like the good little snake you are?"

Akechi ignores the Shadow as he walks off, leaving the Shadow sprawled behind him.

In the pure silence before he leaves the tent, he hears Kazuichi say a few lingering words.

"You know, it might not be so bad to grovel and beg and pretend to be a good man. It's funny, hah. Now that I'm dying, all I want to see is a sky without barbed wire…"

He closes the flaps to the tent with the Shadow staring upwards at the dilapidated ceiling, ensconced in darkness once more.

When he shimmers back into the real world, it has already turned to night. The train back to Tokyo from Yokohama takes forty minutes, and its midnight by the time he returns back to his dorm.

He watches as the day ticks from December 13th to December 14th.

He sleeps, and dreams of Shido's approving smile when he reported Kunikazu Okumura's death.

He wakes, and thinks.

One more day.

December the 14th is a Sunday, and although he's not required to appear he shows up anyway. He's pulled in by a grateful Naho to finish administrative tasks with her.

It's sunset, the winter sun drooping down the horizon an early five-o-clock when he finally hears news as to where Atsuzawa is. He immediately begs a break, which Naho willingly provides, and he heads there.

Third floor, to the right. He opens the door to the smoking break area to the last dazzle of gold sunshine dropping behind skyscrapers and looks around. In the end, it's a familiar rough voice that alerts him to turn around.

"Going back home, kid?" Atsuzawa is crouched to the side of the door, as the break area was an open balcony recessed a little into the building. The panes of smooth glass of other rooms and other windows curve outwards from them, glittering in response to the metropolitan sunset. Atsuzawa himself sat in a recess where the shadows were deeper, the only light the glowing butt of his cigarette when he sucked in.

"Tomorrow is the roundup," Akechi replies with suitable respect to the quiet atmosphere, "and I was a little nervous. I heard from Mitarai-san that you were here."

Atsuzawa's face breaks into a faint smile.

"Sorry, Akechi. I don't think I can be good company today. Smoke isn't good for your lungs either, so go back inside. There's a cushy break lounge and kitchen combo on the twelfth floor that doesn't have freezing seats."

Akechi isn't about to leave when this is the first time he'd caught Atsuzawa alone for the past week.

"My apologies, Atsuzawa-san. Am I disturbing you?"

"Not so much as I'll be a downer right now," Atsuzawa heaves a deep sigh full of smoke into the air. "Sometimes thinking isn't a lot of fun."

When all Akechi does is pull up one of those aforementioned freezing chairs next to Atsuzawa and sits down comfortably, legs crossed and leaning an elbow on an armrest, Atsuzawa manages a small chuckle.

"Alright kid, you do you. Keep a depressed old man company."

"What are you thinking, Atsuzawa-san?" Akechi asks, and Atsuzawa sighs.

"You really wanna know? Eh. I've been so busy with arranging the round-up tomorrow that I let some paper-work build, so I was skimming through it when I found a list of the people we arrested these past weeks. Half of them," Atsuzawa's mouth was a bitter twist, "were kids. Just like you and Takaki. Older teens and young adults, all playing that yakuza game now too deep to get out."

Sucking in another breath of smoke, Atsuzawa's eyes track the purpling horizon. In them is a tired kindness.

"I've put many kids in prison, round up hundreds of people to live their lives in a static cube that won't change them at all. Sometimes, it hits harder that's all, on how we all do duties that will never end." Atsuzawa flicks the end of his cigarette in an ashtray he had put near his feet. He waves the dim red end of the cigarette to the vague shadow of a clerk down the street, dusting the front display case as the store prepares to close.

"That clerk. Tomorrow, she'll have another hundred customers to greet the next day. The burger flipper downstairs is going to flip another thousand burgers, and I'll have to haul in another few hundred of perps before retirement because crime never stops. And so it goes," Atsuzawa trails off by sucking in another deep breath of a cigarette.

"I would have imagined that you loved your job, Atsuzawa-san," Akechi says curiously, watching the smoke as it billowed in the air in an expanding cloud that dissipated into smog soon enough. "You are always filled with energy when you direct our team towards advancing our goals."

From his seat, Atsuzawa's head is only as tall as his elbow. The man doesn't bother to change his posture though, leaning back to the wall more, even, the half-moon curve of his back a slight testament to the familiarity of hunching over a computer.

"You can appreciate the chase without ever loving where it comes from, Akechi," Atsuzawa says, bitter humour tinging the sentence.

"…Do you feel bitter because you think those people have the chance to redeem themselves?"

Atsuzawa snorts.

"Kid, I'll reply with one simple thing my friend told me. He's a forensic psychologist, and he works in prison all day for the past ten years. Do you know what he told me?"

Akechi feels the air is too thick in his lungs when he replies, as lightly as he can.

"What did he tell you, Atsuzawa-san?"

"Working with criminals is hard work, but it only made him appreciate just how beautiful humans are." Atsuzawa taps his cigarette again, eyes serious as he finally looks back at Akechi. "Ninety-nine percent of them had a traceable reason why they were there – broken families, mental disorders, abuse, neglect. They grew up, and they did what they did. And he assessed them and found that every single one of them wanted better for themselves. That's what he concluded. That's humanity's basic instinct. We climb."

"Climb?"

"Yes," Atsuzawa replied. "And the half that hadn't given up on themselves yet, guess what they do. They grasp any straw they can find, and they haul themselves up, they do the desperate, inglorious climb to get a better deal for themselves. And my friend never hated his job, because it was his job to give them better straws to cling to, and try to teach them to learn how to swim from that hope."

"You'd forgive them so easily? Some have done horrid crimes, Atsuzawa-san. It's not minor things like larceny. Things like… murder, for example."

"Akechi, there's one thing you gotta learn," Atsuzawa draws his trench coat close to him now that the sun finally set for good. "Sometimes, there are things out of our control that drop a person to their lowest of lows. And if they haven't given up that little spark of humanity, if they still wanna become a better person, you should let them. See where they go if given a chance since the future isn't set in stone. A world without forgiveness wouldn't function, yeah? Imagine that," Atsuzawa chuckles. "Our job would be so much harder."

Akechi breathes out shakily, covering it up with another deep breath before he answers.

"I see. Thank you, Atsuzawa-san."

"Lecture number fifty from yours truly," Atsuzawa groans as he hauls himself up, catching himself on the back of Akechi's seat when his knees obviously protest in pain. "Oof, I'm not as young as I used to be."

"Before you leave, Atsuzawa-san, I have to admit visiting you wasn't entirely because of social reasons."

"Hmm?" Atsuzawa pauses, turning his attention to Akechi, and he pushes out the reasoning he'd cobbled together throughout the day.

"Don't you think something doesn't feel quite right?" Akechi asks. "I've read Kazuichi Hiroto's circumstances. I would have guessed that people as important as the heirs of a yakuza clan wouldn't have the timetables readily available. If we are to believe his words, we should ask why someone like Hiroto know the two heirs would be in those two buildings at that time?"

Atsuzawa frowns. "Are you implying that there might be something bigger going on?"

"To say it frankly, if there is some sort of clan activity tomorrow that aggregates their members, Atsuzawa-san, our current numbers might not be enough."

Atsuzawa takes this statement with a thoughtful frown, turning it over in his head.

"Requisitioning more members for tomorrow would be hard but not impossible," Atsuzawa mumbles to himself. "It's my policy to always be safe than sorry. Alright, Akechi. I'll see what I can do. I can just apologise if I request too many anyway. Thanks for notifying me."

The weight of the hand on his head is cold and bony on his scalp, and Akechi makes a face for the sake of it when he proceeds to mess his hair.

"Tomorrow will be a big day, kid. It might be a little dangerous. Naho said you were determined, but are you sure you want to come?"

Akechi laughs, before settling into seriousness.

"I wouldn't miss it for the world, Atsuzawa-san."

Justice Rank 7 – Fusazane Atsuzawa

It's with a tense silence that Akechi sits at the back of a police cruiser, as Atsuzawa sits in the front seat monitoring the situation. Communications came in non-stop, and Akechi sat quietly listening to everything.

They sent police in already, with as many extra numbers as Atsuzawa could muster. It turned out to be a good move when the first teams sent out an emergency call on both ends.

"Triple the number expected! Back up! Requesting back up!"

The extra members of the force that Atsuzawa called in had immediately moved in with precision. Since the Karaoke bar was a smaller building, the operation there finished sooner.

"High profile target Kazuma of the Tenkosai has been apprehended!" Someone reported over their walkie talkie, while another few teams reported seizing moderate amounts of drugs from the premises.

"Shibusawa has escaped the enclosure!" Takaki's voice rang through. "He sacrificed seven bodyguards and has left the premises through a secret back door. Since the others are occupied, Hanazawa and I will engage!"

"Copy," Atsuzawa switched on the engine and started backing out of the parking lot they were in. "I'm free right now, so I'll back you up."

They followed Takaki's reports until there's a gunshot, and Takaki's voice sounds panicked just as they are turning the corner. They see the figure of Takaki rapidly speaking into his walkie talkie kneeling over a downed man in a police vest on the pavement. There's blood on the pavement, even as another man, Shibusawa, drags a small girl into a nearby building.

"Hanazawa down! I repeat, Hanazawa down! He has snatched a girl off the street as a hostage!"

"Akechi, call an ambulance," Atsuzawa says even as they screech into a brake in front of the building Shibusawa just entered, a crowd blocking their view. Takaki is blocking a distraught woman from entering the building, while Hanazawa on the pavement gives them a weak thumbs up when he sees them.

"We'll try our best to get your little girl back, ma'am," Atsuzawa says, flashing his badge. "But please let us do our jobs. Takaki, with me. Akechi, stay with Hanazawa. Let's go."

Takaki nods seriously, and they both head into the building, disappearing inside. It's a short office building, only five storeys high, and it seems like most of the employees had already finished work.

Akechi would be wondering how to slip inside if he doesn't hear the sound of sirens, surprisingly quick. In a few minutes, the crowd buzzes when an ambulance parks right next to Atsuzawa's cruiser.

"What's the issue?" One of the paramedics immediately ask, kneeling next to Hanazawa, and Akechi points to his leg.

"Shot through the leg, bleeding is moderate. Excuse me, I have somewhere to be."

Before anyone has a chance to protest, Akechi slips away into the building himself. His footsteps are silent as he takes the stairs quickly, glad the building is empty as he listens for familiar voices, a commotion.

Five flights later, he's on the last stretch. The door leading to the roof is open, and he hears voices.

"You're out of bullets and have nowhere to go," he hears Atsuzawa say calmly. Akechi immediately slows, climbing the stairs to the roof as silently as he's ever learnt. "So let's talk through this. Give us the girl, Shibusawa, and we'll allow you a chance to bargain."

"I'm no idiot, Atsuzawa," Shibusawa crowed, a knife to the little girl's neck. "This is my bargaining chip! Put down your guns. Do you think I won't slit this girl's throat?"

There's a girl's sob, before Shibusawa's voice replies. "Good. Now, I don't mind getting a better bargaining chip. I'm not as bad a man as you think I am. Doing such a thing to a little girl hurts my heart too. Atsuzawa… if you replace her as hostage, I'll be willing to let her go."

"It's a trap, Atsuzawa-san!" Takaki whispers too loud, failing as always, and Akechi inches closer.

He sees the layout now. The roof is obviously not meant for access – there's a wider flat square concrete area, but there are no safety railings or wires. There's only a water tank in the corner, the only reason why anyone would come up here.

Shibusawa is closer to the edge, holding a young girl, perhaps ten years old. Both Takaki and Atsuzawa's guns are on the floor, Takaki to the left and closer to Shibusawa, while Atsuzawa was in Akechi's direct line of sight from the door.

"I agree to your demand," Atsuzawa says. "What do I need to do?"

"Take off your trench coat first, I don't know what you've hidden in there," Shibusawa scowls, and Atsuzawa slowly does so, folding it when he places it on the floor. "Good. Now walk towards me. I'll let go of the girl when you're kneeling in front of me like a good little bitch."

Takaki's face twists in anger, but Atsuzawa waves him down.

"Alright," Atsuzawa replies calmly. He proceeds to walk forward and kneel down in front of Shibusawa, who immediately switches the knife from the girl's throat to Atsuzawa's. The girl is obviously shaken, but there's a gruff kindness in Atsuzawa's voice when he talks to her.

"You've been brave, haven't you? Can you be brave a little longer, girl? Run towards the stairs, don't look back. Go back down all those stairs to your mom, okay? I have a partner down there that'll greet you, a nice boy called Akechi. Got it?"

The girl nods and takes a few wobbly steps forward before she breaks into a sprint. Akechi is nearly not quick enough scrambling up the last step and hiding next to the doorway when the girl sprints right past him, coughing on tears as she leaps past without even noticing Akechi right next to the doorway.

"Now what, Shibusawa?" He hears Atsuzawa say, and Shibusawa laughs.

"Now this!" The stocky man kicks Atsuzawa straight in the solar plexus and Atsuzawa goes down with a wheeze. When Takaki immediately tries to move forward, Shibusawa holds the knife threateningly again, before bending down.

"I know when I'm done for, Atsuzawa. You've smoked all of us rats out, and I bet that snake Kazuichi already told you everything, didn't he? That's how you knew I was going to be there today, right? But you know what, Atsuzawa? I feel like this is unfair. So unfair. I've worked so hard for this moment, you know? Twenty years, to be the next Head of the Tenkosai. And look at me now! I've lost everything!"

Atsuzawa's wheezing when Shibusawa stands back up, knife still in hand. "So guess what, I want something back. Something that'll make me happy. What else would make me happier, than taking out the best hound dog in Japan?"

The knife flashes, and there's a terrifying moment when Akechi thinks his memory had failed him – that it wasn't Atsuzawa's colleague dying, but Atsuzawa himself – before a shout distracts him.

"Atsuzawa-san!" Takaki shouts and leaps forward, body-checking Shibusawa out of the way. The other man doesn't go down easily, and their struggle has them stumbling farther away from Atsuzawa. Takaki is large and trained, but Shibusawa is obviously experienced, and in the end, he manages to grab the big man and use momentum to fling him over his shoulder. Takaki lands heavily right at the edge of the roof, teetering on the edge before finding his balance with a quick twist of his shoulders.

Akechi is racing forward even as Atsuzawa croaks out a breathless 'Takaki!', struggling to rise to his feet from being winded as he watches Shibusawa's annoyed frown, as Shibusawa brings one leg back to kick him over the edge.

Before the man can land the kick, Akechi reached where Atsuzawa had left his gun. He picks it up in one fluid motion, taking a second to switch the safety off and aim.

A loud bang echoes through the precinct, the acrid smell of gunpowder hits Akechi's nose as the bullet flies above Atsuzawa's head and finds a home in the meat of Shibusawa's shoulder. The man collapses in pain even as Akechi throws the gun at Atsuzawa when he passes him and keeps running forward.

Takaki is still too near the edge, Shibusawa blocking the way.

"You, fucking police," Shibusawa is gritting his teeth, face deep-set with anger as he stares straight at Akechi racing forward in his quickest sprint.

Then his face lights with a small comprehension. A horrible, petty, vindictive grin spreads across his face as Shibusawa reaches forward a shaking hand towards Takaki who is steadying himself, starting to lift himself up and away from the edge.

And he pushes.

With a shout, Takaki falls and Akechi dives, the world in tunnel vision. A large, warm palm finds his own, and Akechi tenses as the momentum to stop Takaki falling drags him nearly over the edge of the roof. As there is no safety railing, there's only a tiny two-centimetre rise to leverage himself as his arm strains. The injuries he took from Kazuichi's Shadow burns in protest, and his hands want to let go. Sweat is making once dry palms slick and hard to grasp, and Akechi only clenches his hand tighter in response.

Akechi grits his teeth and does not let go. He will not.

Takaki is not his Arcana in the first place. There is no miracle for him to depend on, no supernatural voice that he can judge and calculate and rank up with. But was that cause to give up? Has Goro Akechi ever given up on something he cares for?

Didn't Minato, Saito, and Atsuzawa already say so?

He's going to change. He's going to fight, and he's going to win. Nothing will dictate his choices and future. Even if it's fate itself, even if it's a God looking mercilessly at him, telling him to die a murderer's death. Even if he is the only grain of sand standing against the tide.

He will change. He's going to live with hundreds of souls on his conscience and remember, use them as fuel to see what he is too blind to see. He will use this second chance and live, no matter where it gets him.

The large, sincere face of Takaki swings underneath him in surprise above the five-storey drop, and in the edge of his vision he sees the red and blue flashes of speeding police cars racing around the corner. Their hands slip another centimetre.

"Takaki-san," Akechi grits out, "you are tall enough to reach the top ledge of the window from the previous floor as a toe hold. It's to your right. It's a bit far, so before you try please grip my arm with your other hand."

Akechi barely holds the strain when Takaki starts to try swing his other hand up before he notices Takaki's eyes growing wide.

"Akechi-kun, above you!"

It hasn't even been a second before he feels the prick of a knife on the back of his neck.

"Drop the gun, Atsuzawa," Shibusawa is panting, as something warm drips down the blade onto Akechi's neck. The familiar metallic smell of blood slides down his throat to fall onto Takaki's face in soft plips.

"Drop the knife first, Shibusawa," Atsuzawa says harshly, near guttural. The sound of sirens fills the air, followed by slamming doors as Akechi watches some of the police he vaguely recognised looking up in panic when they saw their situation. A walkie-talkie immediately starts crackling on Atsuzawa's belt, telling him to report the situation. A few police have already raced into the building, while a policewoman rapidly directed movement on the ground, clearing the crowd. Akechi's grip slips another few millimetres. "You know you're surrounded," Atsuzawa continues talking, dangerously quiet. "If you give up now, I can still let you have a plea bargain for a lesser sentence."

"Heh, who are you kidding, Atsuzawa? We all know I'm going in for life anyway," Shibusawa chuckles with no amusement, before in the reflection of Takaki's large eyes, Shibusawa raises his arm with the knife up, ready to stab down.

Akechi couldn't move.

A gunshot sounds behind them, and Takaki doesn't ever look away from Akechi when he shouts.

"Akechi, roll away!"

And with one determined twist of his fingers, Takaki lets go.

Chapter Text

He's stepping onto a strangely familiar balcony, a small square of a thing teeming with pots of flowers with near nowhere left for him to stand. The bright sunlight and mild air signify that it's spring, and the flowers in front of him agree. Most of the springtime flowers are in bloom in their pots, colours a stunning contrast to the greyed tiles of the balcony, or even, the stagnant concrete buildings behind.

The watering can in his hand tilts, selecting a pot of beautiful purple-blue irises to water first. They are bold and dignified, placed next to some delicate pink dahlias that are just starting to bud. Verbenas next, a large flush of early light purple blooms in a nearly decadent wave that spreads towards a pot of lone bluebells, elegantly drooping in the shade.

There's a funny garden gnome behind it, and for some strange reason, the gnome has been fitted with a Featherman helmet over its features, a comical plastic green mask placed on the gnome's head overlooking the next empty pot. Even though it's empty, he somehow knows it holds unbloomed sunflowers.

The hand that holds the pot tilts it over to empty the last of its droplets on the bluebells, turning back around to a tiny kitchen to refill it. The inside of the apartment is filled with small memorabilia and clutter of the well-lived kind. Many pots and pans are already dried in a rack next to the sink, ready to be put away after a night sharing food with a group of others. A calendar that he passes on the wall is filled with circles and notes, all written in different fonts and colourful doodles as cheerful reminders.

When he steps out onto the balcony again, he carefully waters the last pot of flowers blooming golden orange to the far right.

A pot of marigolds for remembrance, he thinks wistfully.

It doesn't need that much water – and soon he's setting the can down and moving the pot closer to sunlight. Water droplets sway off the petals onto damp soil, and a sense of satisfaction blooms when he sees all his flowers – precious, all in different ways – growing so well.

Surrounded by blues, purples and pinks, the bright yellow of the marigolds draws the eye.

What would he think, so many years on?

Laugh at him, probably, for being a sentimental fool.

"Come on, let's go! We're going to be late!"

"Alright," his voice replies warmly, strangely deep in his chest. His point of view turns to see a black cat staring up at him with wide blue eyes and a smile as wide as a cat could smile. Its tail is swaying side to side, fluff deep on the cheeks. A pale hand reaches out and scoops the cat into his arms, noting that it has recently eaten enough to be a little on the fat side. "Let's go."

When they walk through the door, Akira blinks blearily awake.

A familiar ceiling, old and off-blue. It's ridiculously early, by the sounds of things, as he can still hear his father's loud snoring all the way down the corridor, not yet awake. His curtains don't even catch a shadow of light, and it's with a sigh that Akira places a tired arm over his eyes.

That dream again.

It may be funny to think given his past profession and the inevitable injuries that accumulate in the Metaverse, but Akechi has never spent a lot of time in hospitals. He doesn't even have a Dia to his name, after all. His response to things wanting to kill him is simple – kill them faster. He has a whole arsenal of skills dedicated to that, and it wasn't a coincidence that Akechi had long found that a Persona user's body is sturdier than normal. Whether or not it's an unexamined side effect of accepting an otherworldly reflection of yourself into your being or not, with bandages and good sleep, even a fractured bone could heal well enough that Akechi could run around in Mementos in a week.

That would be hard to explain in all scenarios he'd imagined when attempting to get medical help, so doctors and hospitals were avoided for the most part.

Therefore, his past hospital visits were strictly limited to getting statements. Even then, Detective Prince moniker or not, he had never been a first responder after an incident. By the time he got to an unresolved case, victims were usually recovering at home.

He'd never really appreciated it, the rows and rows of waiting room chairs.

There's a subdued bustle in hospital, practically crowded. Children sniffling, visitors toting gifts and balloons. A woman, whose crying is echoing down a fluorescently lit corridor, somehow too bright. The gentle blue and white paint of the walls… all of it a scenery that Akechi had never seen through his current eyes. It's a distinct novelty, to sit and wait.

After all, he had never had anyone he cared for enough to ever need to wait for them.

"How much time left until the end of surgery again?" Atsuzawa manages to rasp, blinking blearily from the spot he had tucked himself into, a cushioned lounge in a recess that allowed him to fold all his gangly limbs in a huddle over his clunky laptop.

"They're working on his shattered pelvis. Two hours approximately," Naho replies as she continues to tap efficiently on her phone, emails after emails.

"Hrmph," Atsuzawa exhales before letting his head droop onto the wall, eyes half-mast in tiredness as he continued to peck away at his computer's keyboard.

Akechi watches on the other side of Naho, pretending to do his homework.

It's hard to think that the standoff had only been a few hours before. Akechi could still feel that burning desperation to succeed, the cold blood on his throat, the warm palm in his hands.

"Takaki-san!"

Akechi had tried to grasp that hand again even though the man had slipped away, sliding a few centimetres forward in hopes for what he could grab before a hand caught the back of his collar.

"Do you have a death wish, kid?" Came a harsh voice as they yanked him backwards, and Akechi was pulled back in time that he didn't see the moment Takaki hit the floor. He heard well enough, the shocked screams from the crowd, and the sudden shouting for the ambulance already on scene to swap patients. All Akechi could see, however, was Atsuzawa's face pale and tight as he's never seen it, standing tall. Unlike Akechi, trying to recover his feet, he's looking down at the scene with a grave look before his eyes swing back to Akechi. "You—"

"What's the situation?"

A pair of policemen ran onto the rooftop, guns in hand even though they had obviously seen what Akechi had seen.

Shibusawa, groaning on the floor with another bullet hole in his side. With one in his shoulder and another on his flank, the pain had finally overcome his nerves, and the knife had fallen dangerously close to the edge where Akechi's head had been. When Akechi had turned his attention to the man, he observed that he had a pain-filled expression of hate that didn't waver from Atsuzawa. Blood seeped through the white business shirt the man had on, and Akechi remembered thinking with a bubble of hatred that it was a shame that Atsuzawa's shot hadn't misfired and hit somewhere more critical.

The stomach, maybe. He's heard rumours that wounds that involve stomach acid were especially painful and difficult to treat.

Atsuzawa, however, paid it no mind as he turned his attention to his colleagues.

"Get him some medical attention before he bleeds out," He jerks his chin towards Shibusawa, and one of them immediately heads over to Shibusawa while the other rapidly talks into his phone.

It's at this time that Akechi manages to haul himself up, feeling the aftereffects of adrenaline in his veins. Light-headed, heart still racing and feeling strangely disconnected, he turns his head and looks down. A crowd circling a ring, paramedics hauling a large figure on a stretcher. Faces hidden by the blur of distance, motions hurried and precise. Ants, scurrying on the ground carefully skirting around the site of the incident, phones flashing, videos recording that little bit of entertainment for their own story as his friend was pushed up into the ambulance near death.

A circus of tiny, ambivalent fools.

"Don't look," Atsuzawa says firmly to Akechi even as the officer attending to Shibusawa whistles.

"Did you make these shots, Atsuzawa?"

"Yes. Both of them." Atsuzawa replies succinctly. Akechi stills. Atsuzawa is still not looking at him, gaze kept firmly on the officer speaking. "Why?"

"I never realised you have such a good aim," the officer says lightly, obviously trying to defuse the tension in the air. "I've never seen such a perfect nonlethal shoulder shot past academy days, you know? You got him right in the meat."

"…Is that so?" Atsuzawa replies. This time his eyes finally rest on Akechi, who swallows when he finds Atsuzawa's usually open face shuttered and hard to read. "I had no idea either."

The wail of sirens fill the air again, as the ambulance in the street below left with Takaki, drawing everyone's eye as it sped around the corner and out of sight. The resulting incident reports and crime scene had left Atsuzawa swarmed by officers and kept busy while Akechi was swept away by other sympathetic officers who clapped him on the back in unspoken encouragement and left him to the side so everyone could get to business.

After half an hour where Akechi had stayed a silent shadow at the edge of the scene, a stressed Naho had pulled up in her car, inviting Akechi on. And with a wave of Atsuzawa's hand he accepted.

It leads to this situation now, this strange, slow anxiety.

Just like Wakaba, at that moment when she was lit in colour in the flickering flames. Blood, everywhere, clothes melted into her skin, skin burnt into a char, char glistening with a glimpse of still ruby flesh.

That sense of utter failure.

If he is feeling charitable to himself, he would cite that both Wakaba and Takaki are still alive. Compromised, but alive. Wakaba, in a coma. Takaki, surviving the moment of impact at a height where he had an approximate fifty-fifty chance of surviving.

Hadn't Minato said that even in those worlds where he saved Shinjiro Aragaki, Shinjiro had still fallen into a coma until after everything had finished?

It seems subverting fate ultimately has a cost.

The problem of allowing himself to care for others, Akechi thinks, is that the burning flame that had let him face life with the urgent sense of vengeance is drowned by a growing recognition of just how large the world ultimately is. Was he the only bastard with a shitty father in the whole universe? No. Had he been dealt with cards of fate that were worse than the majority? Yes. Unequivocally. Were there people with worse cards than him who ultimately managed to choose to become a better person?

Minato, with eyes holding a swirling universe, told him one word.

Yes.

"Alright, time to finish something up. Akechi, with me, let's go outside. Naho, keep an eye on Takaki for us?"

"No problem, Atsuzawa," Naho replies with a gentle smile, taking off her glasses momentarily to rub her eyes.

"Kid, with me."

Closing his laptop, he puts it next to Naho and slouches towards the entrance behind them, hands deep in pockets. When they reach the entrance, the bitterly cold air of night-time winter washes over them, but Akechi follows without a word when Atsuzawa steps out into the darkness to the side, lighting up a cigarette with the flickering flame of a lighter.

After a large draw of smoke, Atsuzawa's profile is half-lit by the glowing white lights from the hospital entrance, harsh and unflattering.

"Kid," he says towards the dark street. "Who exactly are you?"

Akechi stays silent.

"Naho telling me you were learning all the systems ridiculously quick is one thing. Being talented, assertive, and insightful is another. My cousin who works in intelligence warning me about you? Intriguing, but not a deal breaker. I dismissed him until today." Atsuzawa's eyes slide to look at Akechi. "A perfect shot sniped from across the rooftop in a tense situation… In Japan, a country that illegalises firearms? That's not normal, kid."

This time, Akechi frowns.

"Cousin?"

"Fusatsune, my cousin. My ma and his ma made a joke about naming us similarly, and we grew up taking shit for it. Not the point. He took one look at your profile and told me to kick you from the team. I didn't, and I still don't regret it. Without you, Shibusawa would have kicked Takaki down headfirst."

A breath in, another cloud of silver smoke and Atsuzawa turns to face him. He's standing straight, eyes uncommonly serious. There's an olive branch in his next words.

"Tell me the truth, kid. What's up with you?"

Akechi at a crossroads. There is a choice in front of him that has to be made.

"I don't…" He starts, wanting to stall. However, a whisper in the back of his mind warns him 'be careful. This chance will only happen once.'

If there was anyone to trust, it would be Atsuzawa.

But what could he even say? Atsuzawa was hardly the type to read theoretical papers, let alone a half supernatural soft-science field such as cognitive pscience. If he says that Shido, the popular politician within their leading party had a large ring of influential people under his thumb (including the SIU Director, who was supposed to be leading investigations into government corruption in the first place) was the evil mastermind, how would he even explain his connection?

'Father' doesn't particularly explain his shooting skills.

Their Arcana is humming at the back of his mind, a warm reminder that ultimately Atsuzawa had never given him a reason to not trust him. To make this first step and trust somebody else –

He's reminded of Wakaba again, somehow, glasses reflecting the city on a late night.

Are all higher ranks something that requires an exchange of trust? Just like a cheesy shounen anime, was the very fabric of reality in fact, love, trust and confidence?

A wry smile rises at that thought.

Ridiculous.

"It's a difficult decision to make, Atsuzawa-san," Akechi replies, not denying Atsuzawa's accusations. Recovering a little bit of his usual flair, he brings himself to stand straighter. Gloved fingers clench around nothing, and he looks straight at Atsuzawa. "I won't deny that something is going on, but I need a little time to put everything in order. May I have a week?"

Atsuzawa eyes him for a second, but nods.

"A week it is. Convenient too since you're grounded. You'll be doing paperwork with Naho until I can trust you again." He slumps over to lean on the hospital walls, mouth in a more familiar wry grin. "I didn't forget that you abandoned my orders to jump headfirst into danger, Akechi. The police are an organisation – insubordination can risk lives if you're even one step out of place in an operation. Got that?"

"My sincere apologies, Atsuzawa-san," Akechi bows, and Atsuzawa merely sighs.

"It's your first warning, so I'll keep punishment light. Make sure it doesn't happen again."

Stamping out the cigarette under his heel after another breath, Atsuzawa moves to head back inside the hospital. Before Akechi can follow, however, he's stopped by a hand on his shoulder.

"Don't take this as encouragement… but thanks, kid. For giving Takaki a fighting chance."

The words stab something bitter in Akechi's chest.

He did not try so hard – he did not compromise his position – for a mere fighting chance.

"No need," Akechi replies with a smile. "Don't thank me until he's recovered, Atsuzawa-san. Now, will you excuse me to Mitarai-san? It's about time I head back to my dorm."

The strange heaviness is still there when Atsuzawa steps back, the atmosphere still unreadable. The easy trust and camaraderie from before had, for the first time, felt sour and awkward.

"See you soon, Akechi."

Justice Rank 8 – Fusazane Atsuzawa

"Mom, I'll be back, okay? You have to stay strong." Futaba feels strange when she takes a quick glance around to check if anyone is around her (no-one, bar some old dude shouting at a football match next door) and darts forward to give Wakaba a kiss on the forehead. It feels like a strange role-reversal – her mom was the one who gave forehead kisses at bedtime, not her – and Futaba settles back in her chair feeling like the world was tilted a few degrees to the right and no-one else noticed.

"Everything is so different without you, and maybe it's selfish… But I know that when you wake up everything will be okay again. We have to get back at all the bad guys who tried to hurt you, and you're the only one who can tell us who GA is so I can kick his stupid butt."

Futaba huffs a little, blowing up her hair as she hugs her knees again. The fancy television in the room was set to a radio channel, blaring Risette's newest music album practically on repeat as the DJs gushed about her. It covered the sound of beeping machines at least, since she didn't bring her best sound-cancelling headphones with her.

"Christmas is coming soon, and I can't spend it here with you," Futaba says, "so guess what I brought? I bet you'll like it lots!"

She's biting her lip when she pulls out the photo frame.

Inside is a memory from her last birthday. There was a Featherman popup café on the weekend, and Futaba hadn't even needed to beg to go. It had been so fun – the café had Feather Hawk's famous curry dish, spiced extra red, and the infamous bacon line that Blue said all the way back in season three was commemorated with a cute bacon sticker that came randomly with the drinks they ordered (it had taken seven different drinks and a sugar coma from Sojiro before she got it). Sojiro had gotten Green's avocado toast, and Wakaba had tried out Yellow's Super Large Omelette, and at the end, they all wore the cheap paper masks on their faces while a staff member took a picture.

They're all smiles there – Futaba had insisted on swapping with Sojiro, so Sojiro's smirk was half-hidden by Red's ranger mask. Futaba wore Green's, of course, and Wakaba wore her yellow mask with a wide smile.

"Look, I even stuck the bacon sticker I told you I'll never use on the frame, see? With this by your side, you'll get better in no time!"

Futaba carefully places the frame on the bedside, angled so that it'll be easy for Wakaba to see when she opened her eyes. Like this, it was especially easy to see the addition she did. In the corner, in wobbly blue marker, she drew a small mask with a tongue sticking out and two horns because even though she really liked GA she was still really salty, okay.

"I'm not stupid, you know," Futaba murmurs to her mother now. "That night when you took us to ice-cream, you suddenly mentioned how I always wanted a big bro, right? You were thinking about GA, weren't you? I—I wouldn't have minded if you brought him, he's a really stupid nerd. Stupider than me. An idiot." Futaba's pout grows a little bigger when she thinks of the moment GA vanished in front of her eyes. "I would've talked to him, okay, you didn't have to worry. You could've told me more, you know."

Silence. Her mother barely even breathes on the bed, and her hands are always so cold. Her pale face is such a stark contrast to the smile in the photo – and this is why Futaba only pulled it out on the last day, as she juts out her lip with a ferocious frown.

No matter what those bullies said, she isn't a crybaby.

"But I guess it's my fault you didn't trust me enough. I'm sorry, mom. If you wake up, I promise I'll be super reliable. I won't be selfish again, I swear. I'll present a brand new me! Just make sure you wake up before my birthday! A girl only turns fourteen once!"

No response, of course. The hospital is situated north enough that it's snowing outside, gentle flakes falling down thickly in a way that Futaba had never seen, as a Tokyo resident. People actually had to shovel snow here, gardens filled with bare shrubs and trees.

Aigis had already gently told her that there was a very small chance that Wakaba would be awake on Christmas.

And that's fine, Futaba thinks viciously. Her mom is a fighter. She's going to make a full recovery, and they'll all eat curry together watching anime curled around a kotatsu again. There are four sides to a kotatsu, anyway.

"I know you won't find it creepy, but I set up a camera in the room anyway. It's a live feed, and Aigis gave me a ridiculous budget so it's actually really nice. I'll check in all the time, okay? I can't be here too long, what if someone realises you're here and they try to kill you again?"

There's a gentle knock on the door.

"Futaba-san, it's time," Aigis opens the door and steps through, looking at the younger girl in front of her with a smile. "You have to get back to the hotel by two if you want to catch the bus home."

Futaba hugs her knees as she looks at her mom again.

During her stay, she peppered her with things. The room had one of her favourite magical girl figurines in it now, standing strong over her mom's heart monitor. A note she handwrote in binary that says [GOODMORNINGMOM] is on the side drawer, right in front of her photograph ready for when Wakaba wakes up. A horrible doodle of a cat she saw playing in the snow sticks to her headboard.

She's not complaining. She'll never complain but… she had so many things she wanted to say, but when she did say them Wakaba just laid there. There's no shock, no anger. No laughter, no hugs.

Still though, she doesn't want to leave.

Futaba packs her bags slowly underneath the patient eye of Aigis, and right before she leaves she leans in to whisper in her ear.

"I love you, mom. Take care."

Aigis waves goodbye at the bus station, one which Futaba gingerly returns before she shrinks back into her seat.

She had given her a USB before she left.

"A few people we called in to help," Aigis had said. "They're not officially affiliated with us, but they are aware of cognitive psience and Shadows too. They're going to send in their investigation reports through this app, and with this, you can join us too. Just…" Aigis says with a small wince, "don't use MEDJED as a username, perhaps?"

"That's cool," Futaba nods, adjusting her glasses. "I've been wanting to ditch it anyway since some of the crackers using MEDJED's name are starting to go a little overboard."

Futaba thinks of the few names she's wanted to switch to on the ride back. There are quite a few ones, from mythology like Medjed, or fairy tales like Oberon. She could go Eastern with something like Suzaku, but something didn't really feel right when she thought of them.

When she was back in Sojiro's café guzzling down curry (oh how she missed this, the hotel was fancy and all, but all it had was high-quality fruits and breads and breakfast meats and smoked salmon and eggs eighteen different ways and congee in five flavours and so many types of cereal, but none of it was curry), she cracked her fingers when she slotted the USB into her computer.

Alibaba it is.

The next second, she's squinting at the screen. There seems to be a live chat function, but there were also quite a number of archives on the side. It seems like the app started professional but had quickly degraded into something half business half personal.

When Futaba clicked on a certain folder, a whole plethora of cat photos bombarded her screen, carefully marked with time, date, the name of the cat, where the cat liked to haunt, and what type of food it liked.

Who are these weirdos?

On December the 22nd, exactly a week after Takaki's accident, Takaki wakes up.

Naho spreads the news to Akechi – who had, in fact, been grounded and been left out of all subsequent shadowing – grinding out paperwork in the office with a large grin.

"Let's go, Akechi!" Naho says excitedly as she quickly pulls on her jacket and hurrying out to collect her belongings in her purse. "All this stuff can wait!"

They drive to the hospital through heavy traffic, and Akechi holds his emotions close to his chest when they get directions to Takaki's room from the receptionist. They speed walk, for the most part, to a room in the Acute Trauma part of the Orthopaedics Ward, and when they enter Takaki is sipping water with the help of a nurse, both legs in casts and hanging. There are stitches to his face that looks like it'll scar, and bandages around his torso.

But even so, his face brightens when he sees them as if he's not in hospital at all.

"Naho-san! Akechi-kun! You're here! Sorry, I was just feeling a little thirsty."

"Takaki!" Naho steps into the room with a beaming smile, "I'm so glad you're awake! You had us worried there, big guy."

There's a small sniff in the sentence that everyone ignores, as Naho steps forward to help the nurse with the cup of water, which the nurse gladly gives to her.

"Now, maximum of two visitors in the room, alright?" The nurse gives them a reminder before stepping away to go back to her duties.

Takaki looks so happy being helped by Naho that Akechi tries to step in as discreetly as possible. He puts his bag down onto a visitor's chair while Naho exchanges what's been happening – with Shibusawa and Kazuma apprehended, the Tenkosai were folding like cards. Not only was Takaki's dramatic roof dangle somewhat famous now, but it had also drawn attention to the case in greater detail. The news was raging over the media – Tokyo's underground drug rings, another glimpse at the deteriorating yakuza of the modern age. Investigative reports over the viability of prison in containing crime, a leaked report over the criminal operation being done right under the prison watch's noses.

"We've all been busy," Naho says cheerfully as Takaki listens, "but we've all been thinking of you every day. I'm sure Atsuzawa has gotten the news already, but I'll call him just in case to let him know. He's also really worried for you, you know?"

"Sorry, Naho-san," Takaki says sheepishly. "Didn't mean to worry no-one."

"Shush, and let me go make the call. Akechi can keep you company until then. I'm sure he has tonnes to say too."

With a cheerful wave, Naho speeds out the door leaving Akechi to pick up the conversation.

It's easy to turn a smile at Takaki when he's smiling back.

"Takaki-san, I'm truly glad to see you're taking your first steps into recovery."

"Me too!" Takaki says. "My last memory was seeing all that blood drip down that knife on your neck. Akechi-kun! I was so sure Shibusawa was stabbing you, but I'm glad to see you're perfectly fine, haha!"

The laugh is abruptly stopped as Takaki winces. "Ooooh, not good. I see why the nurse told me to try not to laugh now."

Akechi can't help the faint exasperation that rises to his face as he takes the medical chart at the end of the bed and scans it.

"The doc told me I'm pretty lucky," Takaki says cheerfully when Akechi's frown deepens. "If I work hard, I'll probably fully recover in a year or two! Yes," Takaki continues kindly when Akechi rereads a certain line in shock, "even the paralysis. Apparently, it has a good chance of being temporary, and I accidentally twitched one of my toes or something, so it's a great sign."

Akechi slowly places the chart back and sits on the visitor's chair, observing Takaki's face, the seemingly genuine cheer.

"Takaki-san, I'm glad to see that you're as cheerful as always, but are… are you not angry?"

One of his eyebrows rise in confusion. "Huh? Why?"

"You're set to recover for so long," Akechi starts, and the confusion immediately clears on Takaki's face.

"Well, of course I'm a little angry. I had so many plans for the next two years, you know? But then I figured, I'm still pretty young. Everything I can do in the next two years… I can do two years after too! No point in making myself angry when I'm lucky enough to live! Which reminds me," Takaki says rapid-fire, "thanks for the save, Akechi-kun!"

"But I let you fall, Takaki-san," Akechi shakes his head. When Takaki reaches out a hand, Akechi raises his own in confusion but in the end, all he does is pat it. It's the same palm he had grasped, a few healing scrapes on the side.

"I only managed to fall as I did because of you, Akechi-kun! I was thiiis close to falling straight on my head, you know? No doubt about it, you saved me, so accept your thanks."

Takaki beams at him, and Akechi knows a hundred different ways to respond to Takaki's bright optimism. A smile back, a joke. A compliment, a small rousing speech returning the thanks to Takaki himself for surviving.

In the end, all he says is, "That's what Atsuzawa-san said."

"And Atsuzawa-san knows best," Takaki nods, before wincing. "Oh boy, now I remember thinking this, but didn't you defy orders to come up to the roof? How's that going? Atsuzawa-san is secretly a super softie, no matter what punishment he's given you just—"

"Already speaking behind my back, are you?"

At Atsuzawa's voice, Akechi can't help but tense a little, though nothing really dims the exuberance that Takaki has when he sees Atsuzawa, Naho right behind.

"Since there's a two visitor limit, I'll excuse myself first. Takaki-san…" Akechi turns to the man in the hospital bed. The first truly living proof that destiny can change. That he's not living this second life treading the same vain track of ruin. He tilts his head in a smile. "Thank you for surviving."

Takaki is visibly trying to hold back laughter.

"Anytime, Akechi-kun! I like being alive too!"

He leaves the brightly lit hospital room for the other two, to let the original team reminisce for a bit. Sitting outside, he calculates costs for replacing some of the materials that Wakaba's concoctions need. Sometimes, just roaming Mementos allows him to collect quite a few pieces of scrap, but that fit Joker's infiltration needs more than his.

Well, he is quite rich now, if he counts the money that Shido plies him with every time he finishes a mission successfully. It was the movement of the money that was the problem – sitting on a pile of riches was useless if he couldn't use it. Many suppliers didn't deal in cash, leaving Akechi with a small headache when he thought about it.

The calculations wile time away until a pair of worn formal shoes soon enter his vision. He looks up to see Atsuzawa standing in front of him, hands casually in his pockets.

So, it is time.

"Before I tell you anything, Atsuzawa-san, may we relocate to somewhere a little quieter? Inoshikara park, perhaps?"

Atsuzawa shrugs, deep eyebags in his face that spoke of many late nights in the last week.

"Your call, kid."

The trip to the park is uneventful, for the most part, and Inoshikara Park is as peaceful as always when they walk down the path barely shadowed by the empty branches on the trees. They had, however, been coiled with lights in celebration for the coming Christmas and New Year, still unlit as it was the afternoon.

When they reach the small barrier separating the path from the lake, Akechi stops.

There are no people around, not in this cold.

Trust is well and good when he's discussing it as a topic of debate, as a concept to be examined. It's easy to use the word as a tool between friends when nothing was at stake. How many times in class had he heard his classmates say things like 'I trust you, bro, just tell me!' and 'don't you trust me? Tell me your secret already!' while gossiping over their life?

Actionable trust is a totally different beast.

Wind whistled through empty branches in echoes that would've been eerie if they had met in the dead of night, and Akechi draws out a small sheaf of papers he printed this morning. He looks down at it, and his fingers clench tight for a second before he turns around and offers it to the other man.

"For you, Atsuzawa-san."

Atsuzawa's face is slightly confused when he receives it. He flicks through the papers and sees names, numbers, conclusions on their connections, and the limited amount of paper evidence Akechi had successfully acquired, and Atsuzawa's narrow eyes are the widest he's ever seen when he looks up at Akechi.

"I've been unluckily drawn into a… conspiracy of the highest order. Please read it through and either dispose of it or place it in an absolutely secure place. I've been trying to gather intelligence on the side, but it's been quite slow. The leader of this conspiracy does not actually trust me."

Atsuzawa's still flipping through, reading over names that are sure to ring a bell.

It's a strange feeling, watching another person flipping through his hard work. In all his scenarios, he's always imagined revealing this evidence at the very end, threatening Shido with it, perhaps, after finishing his Palace. There's a bit of anxiety, a little disbelief he actually did it, after a whole week of inner debate.

But he cannot deny there is relief.

"If you wish to ask why I'm involved in this mess… As much as I'm listed as an orphan, my father is one of the names on that list. After finding him, I was unfortunately swept up in this game. Do you… have any further questions?"

Akechi's feigning patience, face placid, hands in pockets as he watches Atsuzawa frown. A few minutes later, he's cradling his head in his hands.

"Kid, I was expecting something illegal, but not this illegal. God, what did I just read? Wait, if Fusa warned me about you, doesn't that mean he knows all about this?"

Atsuzawa takes a few staggering steps to the side to lean on the closest tree. "God, I need sleep. Akechi, I know how hard this must've been for you," and a dark eye does peer up to look at Akechi standing uncertainly on the pathway. In it is acknowledgement, even if it's obviously distracted by what he just read. "Thank you. I mean it. I won't betray your trust, just… It's a little much for a Monday."

"Need a bit of time to process?" Akechi tries, inserting a bit of teasing tone to test the waters, and Atsuzawa rolls his eyes as he takes out a cigarette and lights it. The smell of the cigarettes Atsuzawa smoked wasn't as acidic as some of the others that Akechi lived with through the years. In the undertone, there may have even been something sweet. The slight breeze only blew a hint of it to his nose before being whisked away.

"Yes. I do. I'm going to apply for a break today, go home and crash for a few hours, and tackle this beast of a thing," Atsuzawa waves the papers in his hands, "when I wake up with more than a brain cell working. Need a lift?"

Inoshikara is close enough to Shibuya, so Akechi denies it.

They leave the park together, the sheaf of papers carefully tucked in Atsuzawa's bag, and Akechi gives Atsuzawa a bow when they separate.

Trust.

It's a tentative, anxious, hopeful feeling, and he rolls the word around in his mind as he catches the subway, indulging in a few of Germain's breads when he passes by the store. The custard between his teeth is rich and sweet, and something that he direly needs when he catches a familiar number flashing on his phone.

Appear in the press conference next week.

Already arranged.

No explanation as always, Akechi sighs as he carefully folds his trash to dump later.

What was Shido planning now?

Justice Rank 9 – Fusazane Atsuzawa

"Catch this, Akechi."

The moment Atsuzawa walks in the door the next day, he chucks something at Akechi that he neatly catches.

"…What is this, Atsuzawa-san?" Akechi opens his palm, revealing a small, blue pin inside.

"It's something I give to undercover agents," Atsuzawa walks over to his chair to sit heavily, booting up his old computer and waiting. "You don't have to have it on your person all the time if you don't want it to, but keep it somewhere safe and discreet. The middle of the pin is also an emergency button. Try pressing it."

The small circle of metal in the middle of the pin gives slightly away, and in response, something in Atsuzawa's pocket starts beeping. Atsuzawa pulls the device out of his pocket and shows it to him – it's small and compact. All it shows on its screen is a number and some coordinates.

"The number is an identifier so I know who is calling me. Yours is number fifteen. The coordinates are your current location. It's basic, but it works well enough as an emergency signal. Ah, my computer's finally booted up. Akechi, come here."

Atsuzawa waves him over, and when Akechi rounds the corner of the table he sees that the man is filling out a form. Skimming it, in essence, it's a form to request a new, top-secret mission for an undercover agent.

At the very end, Atsuzawa types in Akechi's name before sending it to the printer. It inches out of the old copy-printer in the corner of the room that they usually never use, and when Akechi picks it up (since Atsuzawa seemed disinclined to stand back up again), he reads it over to realise, yes. It's exactly what he thinks it is.

He turns around, feeling complicated.

"Atsuzawa-san?"

"All you have to do is sign it," Atsuzawa waves. "After you do, I need to finish some paperwork and get it past a few guys, but basically you'll be an undercover agent under our SIU to investigate for government corruption. From this moment on, you'll be our double-agent. I don't know enough to extract you yet, so this is all I can do to protect you if you get under fire from the law."

Akechi looks at the documents in his hands and slowly takes a pen from Atsuzawa's desk.

After he signs it, he scans it at the printer. Atsuzawa grunts in acknowledgement when his computer receives it.

"Although I hate to remind you, Atsuzawa-san, please remember that you cannot trust the SIU Director."

Atsuzawa sighs. "Yeah, I haven't forgotten. The old man is in on this too."

Then deliberately, in full view, he presses aeroplane mode before sending the email.

"Will you look at that," Atsuzawa says conversationally, unwrapping a lollipop. "My computer is so old that it keeps disconnecting from the internet at odd times."

Akechi is in a little disbelief when Atsuzawa continues.

"It seems like my email will be in my outbox for the next few weeks because everyone knows I'm sloppy with my paperwork. Since my budget is cut and my personnel is so tight, Naho just wasn't available to check for me. What a shame." Atsuzawa sighs. "l guess I'll send it in with another ten reports a few weeks later in the New Year rush, and it's not as if it's my fault if the old man does the usual and skims the title of all my attachments and doesn't realise that I'm converting an anonymous double-agent. Security, you know. Being the head of our Organised Crime department has its perks."

There's a little smirk on Atsuzawa's rugged face.

"And even if he does blame me later for not clarifying it, I can just apologise while sending you an emergency message. Sorry kid," Atsuzawa scratches his head. "I thought all night. This is all I can do for you now."

Give and take.

Akechi is standing in front of an offer that will save him even if he gets found to be one of Shido's people in the end. He does not need to walk himself to jail at the very end, confessing how he was an accomplice to Shido's crimes.

It's a rare, uncertain smile that comes unbidden onto his face, cautious, small. It feels strange on his face because he isn't consciously directing what he should be portraying. His mentor seems to appreciate it anyway since Atsuzawa replies with a smile full of teeth that Akechi thinks is his effort to be encouraging, and Akechi can't help but feel overwhelmed.

Does he understand what he's offered?

For the first time in many years, he felt free.

As long as Atsuzawa is still alive, even if Shido tries to drag him down or defame him, tries to blame incidents on his back or lure him deeper into his circles, he can still escape.

"That's more than enough, Atsuzawa-san. This is… far more than I ever could have expected. May… may I ask why?"

"Why?" Atsuzawa's face falls back into a more familiar thoughtful scowl. "What do you mean?"

"What you did just now," Akechi rallies up enough of his thoughts, "if you get caught, then you've effectively placed your head on the chopping block alongside mine."

"I'll be fine," Atsuzawa dismisses. "As much as I don't wish to admit it, I have contacts in the government and business. And if I get kicked out of the police, I have enough of a reputation to be a private eye or something. I'm always ready to bear the weight of my decisions when I make them, kid."

"And hmm," he continues, scratching his cheek. "Why am I doing this? Easy. Someone recently accepted a teenage intern who is polite and weirdly competent, and it turns out that they've been dragged into a hot mess of a conspiracy because of his evil dad. Like any sane person, they would dismiss it as chuunibyou speak if it wasn't that their cousin, who works in intelligence, outright telling you that the kid was 'dangerous'."

Atsuzawa huffs a breath of amusement as he eyes Akechi, still standing there, listening.

"But then he took another look and all he could see was a good kid way over his head. A kid who stuck their head out and trusted him. So," Atsuzawa leans back into his chair, placing his feet on the table. "Since it's literally their job to look into stuff like this, what did they do?"

Akechi looks down at the tiny badge in his hand and grasps it tight.

In the silence of the office, the next few words ring loud in Akechi's mind.

"They help," Atsuzawa says, eyes patient, like it's a simple fact of life, "because it's the right thing to do."

"…Thank you, Atsuzawa-san."

"Anytime, kiddo."

Justice Rank 10 – Fusazane Atsuzawa

Unbeknownst to Akechi, his pocket flashes.

The red eye on his Metaverse app blinks, listening. Watching.

Deep in the bowels of unconsciousness, where concepts and reality collide, spindly fingers weave together. Little appendages they were, strange joints held together by skin and tendon and bone. Not that, of course, he nor the man he was impersonating were strictly human, but the experience is novel, all the same.

In front of him in the amalgamate energy of an undefined Velvet Room stand two girls standing vigilant, faces serious. Sometimes they touch the eyepatch on their face. Sometimes they glance at their Master, wondering what was so amusing.

For it was truly amusing, wasn't it, that his own, chosen hero was choosing hope.

The game has not even begun, there has been no Trickster that appeared yet, but he sees imminent loss. Perhaps the forces of Salvation are still not strong in his Chosen's heart, but his yearning for Destruction has certainly… diminished.

Truly a fascinating development in a game he had been so sure he would win.

He leans Igor's figure into the chair provided by the twins, revelling in the sensation of a mobile physicality.

And he muses, watching. A wide smile spreads across his face.

Chapter Text

Akechi had never picked up on social inequality until he entered kindergarten. It was little, unconscious things, at first, because his first few teachers were nice enough towards children who did not stand out, did not cry or shout or scream, to those who remained obedient.

His uniform that came from the second-hand store, extra cheap because of a stain on the back, versus the girl who had a different clip in her hair every day, who showed off her new crayons and colour-matched pencil cases every week. The way he kept in the middle of the pack during sports while watching the more athletic ones show off, the lagging students pant in desperate gasps. How he would pick up everything so much quicker than anyone else.

Reading, drawing, mathematics, writing.

Being a smart kid had the advantage of teachers explaining away his lack of excitement and boisterousness as a simple combination of 'introversion' and 'studiousness', and this suited him perfectly.

Perhaps the notion was not yet perfectly articulated in his mind when he was still young, when all of them were still scrambling around something they still didn't understand. Something children chased even in all their praised ignorance and naivety. When some of the kids would shyly praise Akechi when he got called up in front of class for perfect marks yet again. When everyone jumped at the chance to be picked during sports and not be the last one. When all of them stayed stubbornly silent when a teacher pointed accusingly at a soaked book thrown into the sink, secretly guilty, secretly relieved.

It is instinct, a younger Akechi realised, for humans to rank themselves. Even if there was no teacher, no external force. A person had to be good at even one thing to avoid being dismissed. To be acknowledged, you had to be great. And if you were weak at everything, if you haven't found something that others could assign some points of social worth, then all you would be is fodder. Fodder, to be chewed on by those who were only 'good' at what they were proud of, those who were insecure that they weren't 'great' and seeking something else they could prove themselves with – power over others.

His mother, lazy in the morning with only an old shirt and shorts on, face bare of makeup. Still beautiful enough to turn heads before an elbow and a whisper and a pitiful glance down at Akechi holding his mother's hand. His mother, thin-skinned, would pretend not to care while her nails dug into the back of Akechi's fingers.

Akechi never complained.

"You beat Takeshi?" His mother laughed once over an exam Akechi had given her, and in her voice were slivers of something hard and unforgiving. "Hah! Serves his mother right. What was she bragging so much for when her son is so average?"

Akechi hadn't yet mastered amae when he was seven. He hadn't yet understood the importance of smiling when people wanted him to. So he stared up his mother, watching her as he always did. He watched her features flicker when she looked down at him, still standing near her knee, and look back at the test paper.

He can identify what it was now. Guilt. A little self-loathing.

But back then all he could do was continue staring when his mother suddenly smiled, the warm one that made Akechi feel hopeful for a good day. She kneeled and hugged him, letting him hook his chin over her shoulder as she lifted him with a grunt of effort and headed towards the kitchen.

"I nearly forgot to tell you, Goro! Congratulations, I'm so proud of you! Anything you want to eat, today?"

It only took a few steps before they left their living room and entered their tiny kitchen. It was silly that she didn't just lead him by the hand, but Akechi found himself winding his arms back around her in a hug anyway.

She, Akechi thought to himself, was probably not the best mother. Perhaps, many would even say she did not even qualify as 'good'.

But she tried. And that, Akechi thought as he let his head rest on her neck, was all that mattered.

He had always been blessed with understanding matters that many thought he shouldn't. Even when he didn't, he would catalogue it in his memory and think on it over and over again until he did.

So he understood, on the day he went back home and found his mother hanging from her bedroom ceiling.

On that day, he was not enough. That day, he had finally become someone not worth living for.

But perhaps it has always been his fatal flaw, to care too much about the why. He replayed the scene over and over again, because there was still one, perennial question.

Why. Why. Why?

A younger Akechi could not help but question what had tipped the scales so drastically. The short report claimed that the recent loss of her job and the stresses of single motherhood were probably the cause.

That did not satisfy Akechi.

Because Akechi remembered other details. Angry phone calls. A long day trip, with the train tickets sticking out of his mother's wallet to a district, when he looked it up, was very rich. Especially silent dinners. His mother fired the next day despite being promised a promotion, and his mother's incurable, sudden anger. Avoiding Akechi's eyes. The abrupt end to any hopeful statements about his absent father. Failed attempts to get a new job, the emptying of their whole alcohol cabinet she kept for guests. A rapid, visual degeneration every day Akechi opened the door back home.

The dots were obvious.

His father had driven his mother to suicide.

He had thought he was going to spend Christmas and New Years alone, as usual. Although some of the orphanages he'd been to had kind directors who stretched budget as much as possible to celebrate the two holidays, they usually ended up all bunched up in front of a lone television in a room, with the only special privilege an extra sweet and being allowed to sleep at midnight. Under foster parents, some had made some token effort, but he had preferred to stay alone by choice.

In the years under Shido, Christmas and New Years had public networking events so Akechi was mostly left alone to his devices.

During this time, he mostly wandered.

Christmas was for couples and New Years for families. There were couple specials all along the streets, of usually conservative pairs happily holding hands while exiting and entering restaurants, shops, parks. There was life even in the bitter cold, from celebratory lights to sweet-faced marketers. So he walked, with a face-mask over his face, and watched. A habit of his, he'd laughingly say to interviewers, that may be one of the reasons that he was such a good detective.

If he was to be truthful, he usually watched because he didn't understand. From young to now, he liked to watch and learn before taking action, and there were yet so many things he didn't understand about the humans beside him. On bitter days, this lack of understanding fuelled cynicism. On better days, it was just a way to feed a vague emptiness.

Apartments, office buildings, towering over the skyline in metal and concrete, and each of those blazing windows hiding a person's life, a family's story. So many people, enjoying one special day determined to be joyful.

His original Christmas in 2014 had been marred by the fact that he had found Shido's spy-cams in his apartment. The next few days had been… a game of stealth, as he tried to find any more and place any personal items he had collected into blind spots or, even, just throwing them out altogether. He'd donated his start at a book collection, he'd kept his desk filled with only things related to school and Shido's work. Clothing was limited to only his uniforms and the semi-formal clothing Shido preferred. By the end of Christmas and nearing New Years, his apartment had returned to what it looked like before – a modern magazine cut out. He left display cases empty, bought expensive things that he didn't really like. Perhaps it was then, that moment when he saw the product of what he'd once dreamed would become his home. When he had surrounded himself with the remnants of paranoia and fear that it had finally dawned on his sixteen-year-old self how utterly stupid he had been. How deep he had already sunk.

It was strange to revisit a Christmas of yesteryear.

The feelings of suffocating helplessness were gone, for one. Walking down streets that were glimmering with the dust of snow all lit with the light of blazing storefronts, he walked down gleaming pavement while weaving slowly past the crowd. He kept his hands in his pockets as he strolled, finding vague amusement watching his breath puff out in white clouds. The crowd around him wasn't the usual hunched tiredness of businessmen, but a more youthful crowd glowing with energy and laughter.

Akechi wanders and does not tread the streets he walked before.

Instead, his feet lead him to an overly familiar alleyway, in the backstreets of Yongen. They are filled as always with locals, the elderly chatting in various corners and families returning home. He sticks out a little with the jackets and shirts that are ironed perfectly and coordinated to his liking, since less youth than usual haunt the area.

He's early enough that LeBlanc still isn't closed. It's a warm light down the side aisle, and he's lucky enough that there are a few customers already sitting inside enjoying a chat. Someone was rising from the seat he usually sits, and Akechi smoothly allows the other man to pass him to the exit before sliding into it.

Since it's late, Akechi responds with a smile and a higher voice than normal when Sojiro raises an eyebrow at him.

"Welcome. Anything you want?"

"A mocha please," Akechi replies, and a few minutes later a warm mocha is placed in front of him, and he picks it up and feels the heat through his gloves. The scent is deep and aromatic, and he sips it with satisfaction, stirring once in a while to evenly distribute some of the chocolate that had sunk to the bottom. He appreciates the familiar smells of LeBlanc, the scents he has come to associate with familiarity and amused eyes.

When he's thoroughly warm inside out, he tunes out the elderly couple's conversation behind him and puts the fare for the coffee on the counter. As he's walking out, he sees a person on the other side so he politely opens the door to let them through first. The other bounds in the shop without even looking at him and Akechi hides a wry smile.

"Sojirooo! When are you closing shop, dinner just arrived! It's gonna get cold!" Futaba runs up to the counter, and Akechi steps through the opened door to avoid suspicion. Glancing back through the door, Futaba Sakura looks happy, not even minding the elderly couple behind her as she rapidly speaks something indecipherable to the fond smile of Sojiro's face. Her face has filled out, and the warm light of LeBlanc lights up the slightly manic grin on her face that's one hundred percent Wakaba.

He didn't even have a mask on today, and he doesn't want to risk Futaba's exceptional memory when she actually focuses. So, with that, he leaves.

Ten minutes later, Futaba is tapping furiously on her phone while Sojiro cleans up shop when he lets out a sigh.

"Someone forgot a Christmas present," he says, looking at the thin envelope in his hand. "While I clean, can you look after it for me, Futaba? They might come back to get it soon."

"Okay, Sojiro," Futaba says as Sojiro puts the envelope in front of her so that he could keep wiping down the bar. She only takes a glance at it, memorising it instantly as she returns back to furiously typing a defence of her favourite character on a shipping forum when her brain catches up.

'Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year' was self-explanatory, a tag typed in normal font stuck to the envelope. What wasn't was who it was from. Two letters stuck out at her when her eyes zoomed back to it.

GA.

"Sojiro!" She screeches, grabbing the envelope and standing up abruptly on her seat. "Where did you get this?!"

"Wh-whoa, Futaba, get down from the seat first. It's dangerous," Sojiro turns, eyes wide when he saw Futaba waving the envelope towards his face.

"I know this guy!" Futaba says, eyes wide as she hops off the seat and onto the floor again. "How did you get it?"

Sojiro's feeling a little bewildered (because when had Futaba gotten guy friends?) but answers anyway.

"I found it lying close to the books. If I wasn't cleaning I wouldn't have found it since it was half slid under the stack… Hey, what are you doing, Futaba?"

Futaba was lifting up every individual book and scrutinising it, even squinting her eyes at the bar table Sojiro just wiped. "Who sat here?"

"A few customers throughout the day. The last one was a young boy, hasn't come in for a while. He used to eat curry here often, but he hasn't stopped by recently…"

Futaba seemed close to hyperventilating, and Sojiro eyes her with concern.

What sort of boy troubles was she sucked into? Isn't she a little too young?

"He was a REGULAR?"

"I-I mean, yes, he was the one who opened the door for you when you came in. What's with the grilling, Futaba?"

The next few minutes were filled with Sojiro bewilderedly fielding questions about the boy's physical appearance (a nice young man?), how often he came (well, he stopped a few months back, and at that answer, Futaba had a deep scrunch of her eyebrows), and demanding him to give security footage (you know we don't have cameras, Futaba!).

After all that, Sojiro didn't even question it when Futaba rips open the envelope and pulls out the slip of paper inside. It's a delivery order for the latest, fully licensed new limited-edition model for Magical Girl Potena's 10th anniversary, Sojiro's address already filled in and Futaba looks at it for a second before diving forward and wrapping her arms around Sojiro.

Sojiro didn't complain about Futaba's glasses digging into his ribs as he returns the hug, patting her shoulder awkwardly.

"W-was he alone?" Came Futaba's last question, and Sojiro is so confused.

"Yeah, he came in alone. That boy usually comes alone though. Futaba, what's going on?"

Futaba doesn't answer, like fifty percent of the times Sojiro asks her a question, as she's already ripped herself away and stormed over to the door.

"GA you idiot!" She yells through the doorway before slamming it shut and returning to her phone, clutching the mail order tightly in her hand as she scrolls angrily for a good deal for security cameras. "Aaaaargh! I'm so pissed!"

Sojiro looks at her and leaves it be, for now, returning to cleaning with a long sigh.

After a small silence, while Sojiro was putting away the cleaning supplies, Futaba's angry scowl finally transforms into a pout.

"You could've stayed, stupid…"

Snow fell more heavily than usual when, on New Years, Naho sent Akechi a text.

[We're going to surprise Takaki in the hospital! Want to join?]

It's not as if he had anything better to do, so Akechi went to the convenience store to buy a few snacks before catching a taxi to the hospital because he was cold. When he arrived there, Atsuzawa was downstairs with Naho waiting.

"Ooh, more snacks," Atsuzawa says when he nears, eyeing the plastic bags in Akechi's hands before Naho whacks his shoulder.

"We'll eat when we get to Takaki's room! Come on," Naho smiles as she turns around and leads the way down the corridors to the trauma ward. The other man obviously wasn't expecting them to come, eyes trained on the small television hanging above his bed playing Red verses White before the door slides open and he turns. The look of surprise transforms immediately into joy.

"You guys! Akechi-kun too!" Takaki turns his smile from Atsuzawa and Naho to Akechi. "You came!"

"We couldn't have our traditional New Years party, so here we are," Naho grins back, and Akechi notices that she put on a fancier make up than usual. The colours are more vibrant and festive, and her hair was let down from her usual bun to a fancy braid, and Akechi's only glad he's never been as obvious as Takaki because he looked moonstruck.

Atsuzawa's only reaction is to roll his eyes.

"Hey, mister non-subtle, we got some of your favourite snacks that we cleared with the doctor!"

He dumps the bags he's holding onto the chair and rolls his shoulders. Akechi does the same, and they settle into the room even though Takaki still had a two-visitor limit, bantering over card games. They all play against each other, Naho and Takaki in a team because of the latter's limited mobility, and Akechi wins every single game without a flicker of his smile.

"My apologies," he says as he lays down a flush, and Atsuzawa glares down at his hand.

"I give up," he grumbles, chewing on a lollipop. "I'm the only one trying anyway. What prize do you want?"

"I've heard wonderful stories about your singing prowess, Atsuzawa-san," Akechi says nonchalantly as he packs all the cards neatly into a stack. "May I request you to sing a song?"

Naho and Takaki take this moment to laugh, and Atsuzawa stands up with a groan.

"You little shits," he grumbles. "You asked for it."

The resulting squawks summons five nurses from surrounding rooms complaining of the noise, and they're all kicked out of the room with a scolding. The three of them are left standing at the entrance of the hospital ready to go home, and Akechi is surprised to see the sky already dark. It was still afternoon when he arrived.

"Shoot, I forgot something! Wait here for a moment," Naho says, before hurrying back into the hospital leaving other two behind. Akechi watches her enter back into the blinding hospital with a lingering smile.

Atsuzawa takes this as the moment to lean onto the building, smile fading a little as he takes out a cigarette.

"By the way, Akechi. The old man specifically asked for our whole team to be at the press conference next week. He underlined that everyone involved in the Tenkosai case on our team had to be there. Know anything about that?"

There's a little concern in his voice, and Akechi sighs.

"I already received notification on that from my own contacts, Atsuzawa-san. Don't worry, I don't think it's anything too concerning for now."

Atsuzawa frowns in thought but ends up nodding.

"Alright, I'll trust your judgment for now. Tell me if you need me to do anything," he says through another billow of smoke, and Akechi doesn't really know how to respond to the feeling in his chest. It's a strangely solid feeling, to know that Atsuzawa had his back no matter his choice.

"Thank you for the reminder, Atsuzawa-san. And… thank you for today's invitation as well." Akechi's eyes glance over the hospital, a place of dread only a few days ago suddenly transforming into a warm memory. "It was… fun."

"Gotta loosen up a bit, kid," Atsuzawa grins. "Don't wanna develop stress lines early, am I right?"

"I'd be more worried about stress lines for you, Atsuzawa-san," Akechi returns easily. "Smoking is bad for skin health as well, and you'll look more aged in comparison to your peers if you continue."

"Ugh, stop nagging me," Atsuzawa complains even while scuffing the cigarette under his heel. "Why is my whole team like this."

Naho comes out then, cheeks flushed and happy, and Atsuzawa gives them all a ride home.

Back in his dorm room, Akechi closes his windows and puts in one of Minato's CDs as background music. Comfortable with a book on hand, he settles back into his room and enjoys the quiet atmosphere, the soft drift of snow outside his windows, the comfortable lighting he's set up inside. Warm air pours from the air-conditioning, and he feels toasty and warm and strangely not alone when he glances at his phone at exactly 0:00 and sees a text.

[Akira Kurusu: Happy New Year, Akechi.]

Attached is a picture of a delicate branch of plum blossoms.

It's ridiculous to think a moment such as this as fragile. Time passes and changes are a constant. It is a fact that a second will only be a second no matter an individual's perception of it. There is actually no fragility to be found.

But his fingers move slowly as he replies.

[Akechi Goro: Thank you very much. Happy New Year as well, Kurusu-kun. I hope that the coming year will be kind to all of us.]

He's sitting in his peach-glow of a small dorm, and not the large LDK that Shido had given him last time. Instead of forcing himself to wander the streets to avoid scrutiny and being faced with everyone's happiness, he's warm, comfortable, and spent a day with friends of his own.

It's only been half a year, but he's saved Wakaba and Takaki, he's gained Atsuzawa, he's met Akira. He hasn't committed anything too horrendous yet, and if anyone tries to pin the comas on him he can expose the evidence he has – not strong enough for a conviction, but definitely enough for scandal – and wake them up. He's financially secure, even discounting Shido's money, as he's saved up anything the internship and Mementos gave him.

The only thing truly holding him back was his legal status as an emancipated minor, and that will disappear naturally when he turns eighteen, half-way through his third year.

If he is aware of his tenuous control under Shido, then Shido is definitely aware of this as well.

At that thought, all he does is place a bookmark calmly into the novel – a fantasy epic detailing the journey of a controversial hero – and prepares to go to sleep.

The press conference is controlled and professional, as veteran reporters wear formal clothing in front of the bench of ranking policemen. Even Atsuzawa is in a pressed uniform looking like a grizzled veteran, sitting straight as reporters asked about the Tenkosai roundup and Yokohoma Prison Scandal in which he replied with simple, to the point answers.

Akechi was standing behind the bench, at the edge of the camera like an assistant. Atsuzawa had placed him there on purpose. There is absolutely no reason why he would have to speak or attract attention.

"There was a splash in the media a few weeks ago," a reporter voices. "It was shared widely until it was taken down."

Atsuzawa frowns, while the officer next to him – someone Akechi vaguely recognises as part of the more PR focused part of the force, replies.

"All officers present injured on the scene survived and are on their way to recovery," replies the man, and the reporter doesn't falter.

"Can we have any statements from people involved? Many people are interested in how it happened. The video captured quite an intense moment where a young man was desperately trying to hold another officer from falling while being held hostage himself. If I'm correct," the reporter says rapid-fire, "it seems like that is the young man in question?"

And Akechi finds himself in the middle of attention.

It's automatic to paste his television smile on his face, the charming one that Shido's agents had told him to perfect. It's a smile that works for shots both profile and head-on.

"My apologies, but I'm merely an intern under the Special Investigations Unit for Organised Crime."

"Yes, he's my intern," Atsuzawa cuts in, and the cameras cut back to him. "Although he's an irreplaceable part of my team, please direct your questions to me. We are not a media outlet, and the purpose of this conference is to inform the public of the Tenkosai and Yokohama Prison incidents. Please keep on topic."

The reporters turn back to Atsuzawa, who continues to field questions alongside the rest of the panel until they leave.

Those few seconds truly shouldn't have done anything. Akechi knew just how long he had incubated his skills – as meagre as the amount he was allowed to touch – before he even splashed any sort of popularity in the media.

For a strange reason, it's different this time.

Right after the serious conference release, a magazine has coverage of 'A New Detective Prince?! The Mysterious Boy In The Viral Rooftop Showdown Video Revealed!'

There's an article in it that's only a page long, but hits upon the viral video and the mysterious people in it. Takaki is featured briefly before they delve into Akechi.

An intern at an elite government investigations unit at only sixteen, the top scholarship student at a prestigious school, an orphan who climbed to his current success. There are snippets of other people interviewed in the Police Department that cite Akechi helping them in cases that he's only ever heard of cursorily, with only one real interview with Sae that states shortly that he was an intelligent young man who helped her with Nezu's high profile abuse case. Accompanied with that are a few shots of Akechi that make him look hardworking and serious, all shots in the most flattering profile.

The very next day, his classroom erupts as the article somehow trends.

"Akechi-kun, I never knew that you were working at such an amazing place!" Classmates that never even talked to him before gushed.

"You were the one saving that guy on the rooftop? That's so cool, man!" Another boy exclaimed excitedly.

"Why didn't you tell us?" Says a girl with sparkling eyes that he recognises, whose opinions always swayed alongside the adjectives magazines used for him.

Akechi sits through it all like he did last time.

"My apologies," he says with his blandest honour student smile. "Many matters are kept confidential in the office, and as I'm merely an intern I don't have much clearance at all."

The excitement fades little. In fact, his life as a topic worked through the buzz in the rest of the week. Even some detectives in other departments believe it and jokingly ask for advice on certain questions that Akechi tries to answer as courteously as possible. That somehow leaks into a later article.

Throughout the whole week, his popularity shoots through the roof.

This can only be possible because of one person.

Akechi honestly had a whole afternoon just sitting at his desk, listing out reasons why Shido would wish to propel him into the spotlight so quickly. Did he think he was still the boy who craved attention from the public?

Sure, that part never truly died. Akechi cannot deny that some part of him will always be satisfied when someone praised him. Akechi was never one to deny his just achievements. He had never been made to be humble, as much as he posed it on the surface. If that was the case, the next few weeks will prove Shido wrong. Being popular was hardly worth sacrificing his life for.

Was Shido setting him up for scandal? Being embroiled in something illegal would get him kicked out of his internship immediately.

But that would be in direct violation of the convenient role of 'Detective Prince' that Shido was already starting. At most, he would fade Atsuzawa out of the Tokyo branch like he'd been the past few months before they had caught the major lead in Tokyo and force Akechi to join another branch at the end of his year-long internship.

There are other types of scandals. Ones that could ruin his reputation, ones that could see him expelled from school. But those hardly needed popularity to obtain – Shido could just plant false evidence and let his school do the rest.

What was Shido planning?

After another week, he receives a little understanding of the situation. There is one solid benefit to becoming famous so quickly.

They're in another one of Shido's apartments, this one close to the inner city.

"Now that you have enough of a reputation, you will pose as the young associate of one of my colleagues," Shido says, standing tall. He's in a black suit today, dressed to impress. Masayoshi Shido was not an ugly man, built sturdily but still slim. Perhaps it's only for image's sake, but he kept himself well for a man who was in his fifties. "Tomorrow at the InterContinental Hotel there is an important gala. You have two targets. You need a 'keyword' to enter those Palaces, correct? Use this gala to find them out."

Shido has a fondness, Akechi thinks absentmindedly, for standing against the light. Perhaps he thought his silhouette was more intimidating or attractive?

"Find the 'keyword' for two people," Shido continued while examining his reflection and shooting a smile at it. "Teruo Matsushita, a competitor of Okumura Foods. He's trying to open a chain of fast-food stores in the Kyoto area where Big Bang Burger also wishes to locate. By taking him down. Kunikazu Okumura promises to support my campaign."

Running a few dates in his head, it does match his understanding of Okumura's involvement with Shido. Last time Akechi had joined these parties a little later. He definitely hadn't been part of the Okumura take-over, as something so large wouldn't have slipped his mind.

(What changed?)

"The second target is Kunikazu Okumura himself," Shido commands, adjusting his tie. "If he breaks the deal and does not join us after we deal with Matsushita we will have to disable him to avoid leaking our secret out. Do you understand?"

"I understand, Shido-san," Akechi replies, reining in his thoughts and defaulting to his standard response.

"Good. This operation is a large one, but I believe in your capabilities, Akechi." Shido's eyes slide towards his, and his smile is a single, confident slant. "I expect you not to disappoint me. To show how much I appreciate you, there's a tailor in the next room who will prepare a suit you can wear for tomorrow."

There was indeed a tailor when he entered the next room who professionally measured Akechi before sliding him into an off-white shirt and a dark grey suit with a tie of a muted green. Shoes, pocket-squares, cufflinks, extra accessories, even teaching him how to brush his hair for tomorrow; the tailor politely showed it all.

Akechi thanks the tailor even though he already learnt how to dress years back, and hangs the suit carefully on the back of his door that night.

Although this is a change he didn't predict – and perhaps, not even manufactured by himself – all he has to do is continue what he does best.

Adaptation, he thinks as he idly straightens a wrinkle, is not particularly hard if you're throwing a fish back into water.

If Shido was hoping he would make a blunder when mingling with high society, then he was very wrong.

"Ahahaha! Yes, I reconnected with Akechi-kun only recently. I knew his father, one of my close friends in high school, an exceptional guy, and who would know his son would grow to be just as exceptional?"

The man Shido chose him to be 'associates' with was loud and boisterous, but not of Takaki's type where Akechi could still tolerate because of its sheer sincere energy. This man has beady eyes and the calculative language of a businessman, and he laughs not to express joy or surprise, but to attract attention and deflect questions.

Akechi tucks the disdain he feels in his heart as he turns on his own smile – a charming, slightly naïve one that plays to his youth.

He's not here to make connections. If he were a businessman, he wouldn't be using this smile at all. A cunning one maybe, one that shows his own strength in their battlefield.

But he is here to disarm and wile information. To do this, he needs to lower defences, not intrigue them.

The chandelier above them glitters with bright gleams of white crystal, and the carpet underneath his feet is plush without enough volume to trip anyone. There are roving attendants holding platters of appetisers and wine before the dinner truly starts, and everyone is chatting while watching for people they wish to know.

"It's the new Detective Prince!" The woman falls for the bait, eyes crinkling into a smile. "I've heard amazing things about you recently. You certainly have a bright future."

"Your praise is too much, Yamato-san," he replies with a bow, and the woman reacts like expected. She raises her eyebrows and leans back slightly.

"You know me?"

"I have a lasting interest in orphanages for… obvious reasons," Akechi says with a little laughter, tinging it with a bit of sadness. "And I can't help but remember your charity work concerning non-profit organisations that strive to change the system. Your donations are helping to transform the lives of many orphans, Yamato-san. That's the truly admirable act here."

"Oh, you talk so sweet," Yamato smiles, and even though her smile warms a little there is still a distance before it reaches her eyes. Guarded, like everyone here. Personal feelings had no place here, though she is obviously pleased. "Yet so young. Akechi-kun, would you escort me to the drink tables over there? I see a few acquaintances I wish to greet."

"I would be glad to, Yamato-san, if Chuzo-san agrees?"

Shido's man laughs again, loudly.

"Who am I to stop you, Yamato-san? Please."

Through Yamato, who he continues to entertain with conversation on carefully tailored opinions of the current social security system, he meets a group of ladies, one of which was Matsushita's wife.

Akechi smoothly inserts himself into the conversation because of Yamato's help, who was willing to help him a little because of her discussion with him. She had been Akechi's target of choice – Lady Yamato was the partner of an old nobleman who also dabbled in business. She had political interests but rarely had the chance to join in the conversation because of the traditional mindset her husband had. He'd known this fact a little late in his last life, but it was knowledge useful here and now.

The conversation derails the moment he joins the ladies. From politics, he has to change track to culture. Specifically, the Philharmonic Orchestra performance next week.

"Out of Sibelius's repertoire of works, I find myself appreciating the tone poem Finlandia, even though it is an obvious choice out of his works," Akechi chuckles self-consciously.

"What do you like about it?" Matsushita's wife asks, her face round and curious. She doesn't know yet that her life will come crashing down her ears soon, and Akechi hums.

"It is a piece made to protest censorship and oppression from Russia, a celebration of Finnish history and perseverance," Akechi replies smoothly, allowing his hands to deflect some attention. A string quartet echoes from somewhere across the reception. "Although many would find it a turbulent piece, it echoes the importance of struggle and persistence, and the honour in doing so. It's poetic, isn't it?"

"Such a piece suits a young man like you very well," Yamato cuts in, smile a perfect, unreadable curve. "Is that why you're striving in the justice system?"

"I believe that it is the duty of all citizens to try and better their country," Akechi demurs, and Matsushita's wife smiles wide.

"I'm so glad to hear such responsible youths still exist," she says. "I read so many things these days in the news, it's terrifying."

Conversation derails again, and Akechi is unhurried as he slowly turns talk towards Matsushita's feelings towards her husband. Things are rarely happy in the marriages of the upper crust, Akechi has long found, and many are eager to vent when they can.

"He's long-abandoned me," Matsushita's wife sighs after Akechi fetches her a cup of champagne. "My contribution to the family is over, and he lorded over me when I was his source of money. He's like a dragon, and now he's just transferred his treasure hoard to the company."

"I'm sure that isn't the case, Matsushita-san," Akechi says placatingly, even as he counts the minutes until the gala dinner is going to begin. Two minutes more of this conversation. "You are his wife, and a human being is irreplaceable."

"Thank you, Akechi-kun," Matsushita's wife smiles. "Even if they are only platitudes, it soothes my heart to hear it. Not many are willing to spend the time to listen to me. Are you interested in the road of politics? I can introduce you to a few people I know."

"No," Akechi shakes his head. "Perhaps it may sound silly to you, but I truly wish to work in the Justice System when I am older. I wish to support our existing citizens and keep order more than guide their future path."

A voice rings, calling for people to start filtering to dinner, and Matsushita's wife gives him a little bow.

"It is a shame our conversation has to end, Akechi-kun. May we meet again."

"It was an honour to speak to you, Matsushita-san," Akechi smiles back, perfectly polite as he bows her off. They both enter the dining area through separate doors. She had been a kind woman, Akechi thinks as he cuts through a delicate piece of duck and fields questions on the current state of the economy at the table next to Shido's associate. With Matsushita's collapse, he only hopes she doesn't feel too burdened.

After dinner is another hour of mingling, and this was the time that was allotted for him to find Kunikazu Okumura's keyword. As he already knew it, he escaped to the back gardens of the hotel instead.

The air is nice and chill on his face, a breath of sharp cold that feels like it would crystallise in his lungs. January is still blisteringly cold at night-time, even if they were half a month in. He quickly starts freezing the more he ventures out into the dark, fingers growing numb and legs frozen to the knees.

He hears no more of the more modern music booming out of the speakers for the sake of the dance floor so far away from the golden balconies blazing out into the dark. He's near a row of empty bushes as he follows the path looping around the different sections of the garden.

Perhaps it's because of a small habit – when walking alone, in dark enough spaces, he liked to look up for stars – that he doesn't notice the figure crouching by the side of the pathway until he nearly trips over them.

"Whoa!" The figure – a girl's voice – says in a fluster while Akechi quickly finds his balance with a few light steps forward. "Oh, I'm so sorry! Are you alright? I'm so sorry for crouching in the dark, I just saw a small flower growing on the path…"

When Akechi turns around, he sees that the girl has stood up. Akechi's the one backlit by the golden light streaming from the ballroom behind him, so it's the girl's face that is lit up to him.

Haru Okumura smiles at him with embarrassment, kind concern in her eyes.

"I was taking a break too," the girl says in delight as they agreed to walk around the path together. Haru had only introduced herself as 'Haru', and Akechi suspected it may be because she wanted to avoid disingenuity on his part, and he'd played along. She's only wearing a light dress, even though her jacket has a fur lining and her socks look warm. "Corporate dinners are very suffocating at times, even though I understand their necessity."

"It's my first one and I understand what you mean," Akechi replies, self-deprecating. "I was only invited because of a few minutes of fame, and one of my father's old associates wanted a little more attention."

"Oh," Haru says with sympathy glimmering in her eyes. It was so unlike the hard glare that she'd had when she declared that he deserved another chance, despite never giving her forgiveness. "Forgive me if this offends you, Akechi-kun, but is he…"

"Just using me?" Akechi smiles, Detective Prince face on. His Prince façade had been his wittiest, his most charming. Haru Okumura deserves no less. "You don't need to be so polite, Haru-san. I know what he's doing, and I was in no position to refuse."

Haru falls silent for a moment, her fluffy hair blowing backwards in the slight, bone-chilling breeze. "At least this meant that we could meet each other, Akechi-kun! Our discussion is so stimulating. I haven't met someone who knows so much about flowers before!"

Well, that was partially Akira's fault. As time has worn on, Akechi found that Akira had the annoying habit of typing in short phrases, sharing articles without context, and using stickers and emoticons to express emotions. Although he read every article and most of the time it leads to discussions that truly made Akechi feel amazed that they could share such a normal connection (a fragile peace, knowing what he did of Akira's future, but unbearably precious), it also meant that he knew a lot more about plants that he ever intended.

"Only flowers, mostly," Akechi chuckles. "You have an amazing practical knowledge of plants that grow food."

"Don't deny your skills," Haru insists with a shake of the head. "I would be glad to talk to you more about plants, Akechi-kun. If you're ever invited to one of these functions again, will you be willing to talk with me further?"

"…You wish for my company, Haru-san?" Akechi raises an eyebrow. He'd hardly spoken to the soft-spoken girl even in the past. Haru wasn't the type to reach out with no reason, and Akechi had no reason to associate himself with the daughter of someone he'd murdered. It was simple logic to avoid such a troublesome connection.

"If-If you don't mind," Haru's high voice is hesitant, holding her hands in front of her chest as if not knowing what to do with them. "I rarely come by someone my own age who is interested in the same subjects as me."

Since he's started, he's undoubtedly going to continue coming to these events for a while. At least once a month, if he's guessing Shido's Palace schedule for himself.

The Haru Okumura in front of him is so young, yet very unchanged from the girl he knows from the past. Just a little more hesitant, a little more resigned and obedient.

And he cannot deny he is curious. Was this another chance gifted to him by fate? He doesn't doubt Haru Okumura existed in the parties he went to, hiding in corners when she wasn't required, a silent presence at her father's table to show off her availability. She would make a powerful friend in time.

Perhaps, a few amends.

"I would be glad to become friends with you, Haru-san," Akechi laughs. "Next time we meet, I will be glad to discuss more matters with you."

"Friends?" Haru replies with a little wonder. The word takes a moment to sink in before her replying smile is a large beam. "It's a promise, Akechi-kun!"

He is unsurprised when he unfreezes from time. If Futaba Sakura had an Arcana, it's only logical to assume that the rest of the Phantom Thieves held equal potential.

"I'm looking forward to it, Haru-san," Akechi replies with just a sunny a smile.

By the end of January, Matsushita's holdings are in a mess when the company director falls into an unexplained coma.

His Palace had been unexpectedly beautiful. It was a series of underground caverns, jewels laced the walls, crystal stalagmites and stalactites grew from the ceiling and floors, and rainbow phosphorescent lights dotted the cavern, floated around. The Shadows there had been mostly animalistic – guard dogs, beast-men, animals of labour, all hunting for more treasures from the company's walls.

The lair itself had been designed as an intricate maze that took Akechi a week of effort to map out, filled with pitfalls and traps, a spiral path that leads upwards from the dark cavern he had started out in.

Matsushita himself was under a single ray of sunlight. Surrounded by rows and rows of Shadows, they all kneeled and worshipped the huge hoard of gold that the half-dragonised Matsushita sat. Scales glittered all along the Shadow's lithe body, a long tail slid contentedly over the gold, and Akechi had looked at the thin tip of Wakaba's needle.

Too delicate to pierce through such armour.

There is nothing for it. Akechi steps into the cavern, and before any of the worshipping Shadows can react, he pulls off Robin Hood's mask.

"Megidolaon!"

A huge sphere of energy builds right in the core of the whole Shadow army, growing into enormous size as it burns Shadows from within. There's a scream, and a whole shock of Shadows starts frantically running away, and Akechi runs straight forward through the crowd.

Megidolaon hits him as well, but the damage is something he can take as he sprints right through the burning light that feels solid, as if one breath makes the light burn right through the cells of your lungs to kill you inside out. His hair is standing on end when he sprints right up to Matsushita's Shadow and jumps.

Claws grab him straight from the air, daggered fingers clenching over his torso before drawing him close to his face to growl, probably, something threatening.

Akechi plunges the syringe in his hand straight into his eye as deeply as he could reach and injects the whole vial.

Matsushita screams in pain, dropping Akechi to the ground as he thrashed in his pile of gold before he suddenly freezes. He collapses and causes a wave of coins and glittering jewels to spill all over his similarly fallen subordinates.

Escapes from comatose Palaces are easy matters – just a matter of time skirting around all the sleeping guards, and Akechi sends a message Shido that the deed was done.

During February, he texts Akira, helps Saito move her bags, visits Takaki in hospital and reports to a stressed Atsuzawa, and watches as Okumura Foods acquires a lucrative Kyoto deal while Matsushita's company had their stocks drop by ten percent. All of Akechi's informant assignments are Okumura's competitors, and the second Palace Akechi is assigned isn't Okumura after all – just a man who disagreed with Okumura's work health and safety policies who didn't even have a Palace.

Akechi uses the coma agent on the man in Mementos and lies that he had a Palace to Shido's face.

At the end of February, Akechi gives an extra sheet of paper to Atsuzawa to keep.

Kunikazu Okumura is officially added to the list of Shido's allies.

"See you again, Akechi-kun," Haru smiles as she brushes off her dress from the stairs they had been sitting on. "My father just texted me telling me that we're about to leave soon."

They avoid certain topics, Akechi found. Haru pretends her family and background don't exist, prompting Akechi to do the same. There is no 'Okumura Foods' or 'Detective Prince' being bandied around, despite both names trending a little higher than normal nowadays.

Shido's plants invited him on a few official cases outside the SIU he's affiliated with when Atsuzawa was called away to another precinct, and whenever Akechi provides genuine help, it's documented and sent away as proof of his continuing 'genius'. When he demurs, it's seen as a sign of him being humble. When he only provides a few of his ideas, it's blown out of proportion. Somehow, his popularity hasn't faded, despite refusing media attention. Okumura Foods were doing the same – acquiring business deal after business deal, successful expansion after expansion.

Both knew who the other was but ignored it.

"Thank you for your company, Haru-san," Akechi replies. "I look forward to your continued explanation of your gardening adventures. I can't believe you grew a whole string of pumpkins from your balcony. Can you show me more pictures next time?"

"Of course!" Haru exclaims, clapping her hands in delight. "If I can, I'll try to bring some for you to try, Akechi-kun. They might be a little misshapen though…"

Haru's voice dwindles a little, but Akechi shakes his head immediately.

"No-one is perfect on their first try, Haru-san," he says smoothly, voice encouraging. "And even so, I'm sure the vegetables you've grown with your best efforts will be worth trying."

Haru's smile is a small thing, always tinged with some apology in her eyebrows or the tilt of her smile. Akechi observes that it is the case no matter the subject, be it gardening, the happiest subject for her, or something less akin to her interests, like Akechi's pointed observations of the dancing crowd behind them, making her giggle guiltily. It is a smile that is always somewhat sad.

"See you next time, Akechi-kun," Haru truly leaves now, voice sweet and kind in a way Akechi rarely hears, and she slips away from their small balcony back into the fancily dressed crowd behind them.

Without her around Akechi sighs and drops the mask, blowing his hair back from his face.

He's found the keyword he needed, so there wasn't truly any reason to hang around.

It's when he's exiting the function centre when a woman that he didn't see, crouched around the wall, suddenly falls forward and grabs his arm.

"You, I recognise you," the woman says with wide eyes. "Please, I've seen you before," the woman clings to him. She's heavily pregnant, a bulging stomach round with a nearly grown baby and Akechi is trying to politely shake her off without harming her when she falls to her knees and clings to his leg even tighter. "He rarely met people at his apartment, so you must be important to him. Please, let me meet Masa-san. Please."

The face looking up at him is completely devoid of makeup and looks haggard and stressed. It's pretty enough, and vaguely familiar, but with 'Masa-san' coming out of her mouth he suddenly interposes another memory over her.

A maid in a scanty dress barely older than him, opening the door.

He'd stopped going to Shido's apartment soon after so he hadn't noticed that she had disappeared. Shido changed women often enough that Akechi had made a determined effort to put it out of his mind and not get distracted by the sheer bitterness at seeing it.

Another quick glance downwards, and Akechi frowns. She looks like a woman in her third trimester.

"Please, please," the woman is pleading, kneeling on the floor as much as she can while her hands keep a vice grip on Akechi's ankle. They're definitely attracting attention now, and Akechi pulls her up.

"What's your name?" Akechi asks, and the woman flinches.

"Hinata," she replies after a second. "My name is Hinata Osumi. Will you help me meet Masa-san?"

"He left early, Osumi-san," Akechi replies with his kindest smile on, mask on thick. "And he will definitely disapprove of meeting you if you make such a big commotion, so please refrain. What is your relationship with him?"

Hinata leans heavily on his arm when she takes a few wobbling steps forward with him before she gathers her balance, bowing a little over her stomach as she cradles it. They are perhaps an odd pair as they walk down the upper-class district, Akechi in a perfectly tailored suit next to a heavily pregnant woman in a cheap, one-piece dress.

"He's the father of this child," Hinata replies, voice empty of emotion. It's a far cry from the sweet saccharine tones he vaguely remembers that she used when she opened the door, or when she was seducing Shido. "Masa-san promised to pay child support if I didn't speak out about our relationship, but he suddenly cut the money after I asked him for more. There was a price-hike at the apartment, I couldn't…"

There's a low desperation there in the trembling of her shoulders, and Akechi observes her quietly.

Shido is not a man who changes.

"Do you have lodging now?" Akechi asks, and the woman shakes her head.

"I have until tomorrow to leave the apartment. But Masa-san has sold the apartment I used to visit him in, and I heard rumours he was going to be at this party. But he's," and Hinata is choking down something – a sob, or maybe some other emotion. Akechi hopes it is rage or anger because those types of fires are harder to smother than something soft like sadness. "He's already left and now I have no other place I can go."

There's a despairing frustration in her voice.

A mother, and Shido's child.

Akechi cannot help but be reminded of the hunch in his own mother's back when they went to grocery stores. They would beeline for the older, cheaper vegetables in the side-crates. Living in a poorer neighbourhood, the sight might not be something uncommon, but there had been unkind acquaintances in the cheapest grocery in their block.

Snickers, and deep shame.

When Akechi went to his mother's funeral when he was eight years old, he realised his mother was twenty-nine.

That meant Shido had gotten to his mother when she was twenty-one. An age where many were still living their youth, still looking forward to a bright future. He hadn't been far from twenty-one himself before he died. He would have still been in university, still finishing his bachelors.

Old enough to be an adult. Young enough to know nothing.

"Wait a second, Osumi-san," Akechi says when they are far enough from the flow of people going in and out of the function centre. "I have a call to make."

He pulls out his phone and doesn't hesitate to call Saito's personal phone. She had insisted on him keeping it, and sometimes she asks him to help in carrying goods from the hospital and back. Saito isn't bad company, and he obliges as much as he can. In return, he has a small growing collection of teas on his second shelf, little metal boxes that he tries out, once in a while.

Saito picks up on the second ring.

"Yes?"

"Saito-san, this is Goro Akechi. My apologies for calling you so late in the evening."

"It's nothing, Akechi-kun. You keep helping me with carrying those heavy bags, it's the least I can do to have a chat. Is there anything you need?"

"I bumped into a lady who is in dire need of accommodation," Akechi says. "I was wondering if you knew any shelters that target young, pregnant women?"

"Oh dear. How soon does she need it? Tonight?"

"Tomorrow night."

"Tomorrow is quite doable," Saito replies firmly. "Though I do need her specific age before I know which institutes and organisations to recommend. May I have her name and age?"

Akechi looks up from his phone and covers the receiver.

"Osumi-san, I have a friend who is a retired social worker. I'm currently asking her for recommendations for shelters that can accommodate you until you get back to your feet, but I need to provide your age and name. Is that alright?"

Hinata looks stunned that Akechi is helping her, her eyes wide. Her face is objectively pretty as well, just like his mother. She has the young and naïve look that Shido preferred, in the slant of her eyes, the smallness in her nose, and it takes a few seconds for her to rapidly wipe her eyes before she looks up at Akechi with determination.

"Thank you for your help, Akechi-san. Please provide my name. I am Hinata Osumi, and I'm twenty-two."

When he relays that information to Saito, she asks him to wait for a moment. He hears Saito heaving herself up and the babble of a television fades in the background before the sound of paper rustling fills Akechi's ear.

"Alright, can you pass the phone to her, Akechi-kun? This might be faster if I say it directly."

Akechi nods and hands his phone over to Hinata. She's heavily pregnant, so he doubts she could take his phone and run away.

On the phone, the desperate hunch of Hinata's shoulders relaxes the more she talks to Saito before she's bowing and handing the phone back to Akechi.

"I don't know how to express my relief that I won't be homeless tomorrow," Hinata says, some of the whole aura of anger leeching out a little. "Saito-san agreed to let me have her phone number, and she's agreed to help me through any paperwork tomorrow to be accepted in a young women's shelter. Thank you, Akechi-san."

He's just helping the ghosts of his own past, being the helping hand that he wished his mother had.

The hand he had only just gotten, so recently.

"It's alright, Osumi-san," Akechi replies with a little bow of his own. "I helped because it's the right thing to do."

Hinata's returning smile is a little tired around the edges.

"That's a refreshing spirit to see," she replies, a little sad, before they both say another round of goodbyes and leave in different directions. Akechi's subway station is the opposite of Hinata's, and they leave with a perfunctory efficiency.

Akechi rides the subway, thinking.

Just a small moment.

"This was you when you were a baby, Goro," his mother pointed to a photograph. A rare one, in a household nearly devoid of fond memories. He lost it during one of his moves, so even in his memories, the photograph he remembers is vague. Just a woman, cradling something with a tuft of hair in her arms. "You were so small, and you liked me immediately."

That younger Goro had waited for the words his mother sometimes said, but even during the rest of the evening where his mother reminisced, not once did she ever really say what he wanted to hear.

So he said it instead.

"I love you, mama."

His mother smiled at him, her face beautiful and worn and fading like an over-exposed photograph, and all she did was kiss his forehead before tucking him in.

"Sleep well, Goro."

Chapter Text

March marks the end of the school year, and Akechi begs a few days off early. The teachers are generally understanding when he provides them with a form that Atsuzawa had given him a stack of a few weeks back. They learn nothing in the last few days of school anyway, so it's with little care that Akechi goes to a nearby pharmacy for temporary hair dye, texting Atsuzawa to cover for him if anyone comes asking after him.

[Atsuzawa: A problem?]

[Akechi: No. Personal errand.]

Carefully applying the dye in his bathroom in casual clothing he rarely wears, he puts on black contacts just in case before transporting himself to the Metaverse to reappear near the train station, booking a Shinkansen ticket out of town.

It's a calm ride. The sun is a steady bright shine against the fields outside Tokyo, white clouds hardly barring the merry golden stretches that light the countryside until he reaches the next city. It doesn't even take that long – noon greets him when he steps off the Shinkansen onto the main Iwatodai train station, the city holding much less frenetic energy than Shibuya. Akechi puts on his face mask and pulls his cap low, before glancing around curiously. Familiar names pop out at him from small bites of memory.

There, on a slightly aged paper, was a drawing of the train network in the area. One of the tracks leads to an island, with clear lettering spelling 'Port Island Station'. Gekkoukan High is there, he knows, and there's a small temptation there to visit. See if the roof is as he remembers.

He turns away from it though, searching for a bus stop in the nearby station square instead.

Akechi did his homework beforehand, and he steps out to a mountain a little out of the way of the city. The sun's warmth overwhelms the refreshment a spring breeze teases in fleeting curls. Insects buzz alongside the random bird or two chirping merrily as he follows a small street upwards.

There's a florist, at the end of the road, right before the mountain truly starts. Using the useless knowledge Akira has shared with him, Akechi chooses a bouquet.

Violet chrysanthemums, bellflowers, a few white and yellow roses. The florist looks at the flowers he picked out with care and smiles.

"You must be giving this bouquet to a wonderful friend," she says with a sweet, gentle look. It's sympathetic, and Akechi huffs a small laugh.

"He truly is," Akechi replies. The florist takes extra care to arrange them beautifully before handing them back to him, and he cradles the bouquet in his arm as he climbs the mountain. At first, there's nothing but the drone of insects and the faint whistle of wind that surround the road. Stacked stones rising above the road tower above him on his left, the right showing a growing vista of a glittering sea as the road continues to up around the mountain.

Soon, the stones give way to an iron-barred fence that allows glimpses of the aged tombstones on the other side, moss and erosion covering their names as Akechi continues walking up. Sweat is beading his forehead when he finally arrives at the entrance of Iwatodai Cemetery. It's nothing special – it's not especially solemn nor foreboding, the gates were thrown wide open with an empty security box on the side.

Akechi walks inside and respects the muted silence. Hundreds of tombstones stretch before him, curved away, hidden by walls or hills or trees. There are a few people here and there in the cemetery as he passes through the years, from 2014 to 2012. From 2012 to 2009. They stand around tombs or sweep them, usually milling around with faint smiles. Akechi politely sidesteps a family huddled together watching a little girl sing a happy song to a gravestone, applauding when she's done. All the visitors don't look at each other, as if there was some unspoken etiquette to not pry into another's grief and reminiscence.

It takes a while to find – there are so many graves, so many names – but Akechi soon stops in front of a large, well-kept tomb. There's a carefully framed photo on top of the white marble, of a boy with a slight smile on his face staring out of the camera. His blue hair drops over one eye, a flavour of humanity that Akechi has never seen framing the softness of his cheeks, the slight slouch to his shoulders.

In the Sea of Souls, Minato's presence had always been something more. Something near Godly, despite his friendliness.

In this photograph, he's just another normal boy.

Surrounding the tomb is a plethora of things left behind. There're multitudes of flowers, a colourful burst of bouquets propped carefully around the area. Remnants of a gathering are speckled around the tomb, colourful bits and pieces obviously recent, and Akechi laughs as he puts down his fresh bouquet next to the others.

"And here you were, wondering if they missed you," he says fondly, pulling his face mask down to his chin to smile back at his friend. The bond in his mind hums, a thing ever warm in his mind. If Kirijo's actions with Wakaba hadn't proved it already, the sight here is irrevocable proof. "They obviously do, Minato. You aren't forgotten."

Silence settles as Akechi lowers himself to sit in front of Minato's grave, one leg straight, one leg bent. His feet tentatively brush against an older bouquet, bursting with primroses. There's absolutely no-one around. The closest person is five rows away, praying, and something in Akechi that's always wound tight subconsciously relaxes.

"Sorry I'm late," he says to the stone. "It's March the fourth. I didn't want to risk bumping into your friends."

It's alright, Minato would probably say, face uncaring of his faux pas. I'm glad you came to visit me.

"Although it's stupid to come here in person, I wanted to thank you," Akechi says, breathing in the air. In the distance, there's a spot of pink where he sees some sakura trees blooming. "I've been trying my best with this second chance. I don't know if I'm saving the world or not… but I've changed what I could since you sent me here."

The next question is stuck in his throat. Minato cocks his head to the side at that, his very silence an expectation.

Akechi allows himself to think a little slowly, gathering his thoughts into a careful bundle before presenting them.

"Did you see this when you sent me back here, Minato?" Akechi wonders, his question a delicate gossamer thing that floats nowhere, leaning back on his hands to look up to track a roving white cloud. Large and white. Voluminous, as it floats slowly towards the west. "Is this why you believed in me?"

Only the sea breeze answers that question.

His mind refuses to plant an answer into Minato's image, and Akechi chuckles.

"That's alright," Akechi muses. "Did you know I found a café that plays the artists you like on weekdays? Their coffee is decent too," he adds, "though I don't know if you like coffee or not, I think you'll still like it. I'll bring you there someday."

Minato smiles from the photograph, frozen in a moment of forever contentment. Akechi leans forward, hugging his knee. "I've also met a lot of people. New people, that I never knew before. They're… I'm trying, Minato," Akechi says, voice slow. "The world isn't beautiful yet, but I can see how it can be"

I'm glad for you, Goro.

"Of course you'll say that," Akechi murmurs, feeling a wave of sleepiness wash over him from the warmth. "Which reminds me, I wished to thank you for the warning. Are you watching over me?"

Perhaps.

"That's good enough," Akechi replies with a small laugh half smeared into his sleeve, cheek pressed to the wool. Somehow Minato feels stronger here, a nostalgic voice ringing in his head. It is irrational, but he feels safe in front of this monument to his friend, and his eyes can't help but close.

In the darkness is a sea of stars. At his feet a galaxy. At his side is a myth turned friend, who stretches a hand to him that never truly reaches.

Rest. It's safe here.

Ridiculous, Akechi tries to reply through drowsiness. It's right in the open, a graveyard at that—

A smile.

He falls asleep with the sun a warm cloak on his shoulders.

He rouses a few hours later with a hand shaking his shoulder.

"Sir, it's going to be a little chillier soon… Oh hey, you look around my age! Did you know Minato-san as well?"

Akechi blinks his eyes open, a little gritty and irritated against his contacts as he looks up at another boy who stands in front of him, a calm smile on their face. He's in the same Gekkoukan uniform that Akechi saw on Minato, crisp and clean, and he does look around his own age. His brown hair is cut short, but not trimmed enough to stop it from sticking out in vague sweeps, and Akechi's mind is already whirring as he rolls himself up onto his feet, stretching out the kinks.

"I'm Ken Amada, nice to meet you. What's your name?"

"Akira Sakura," Akechi replies with the first name that pops up in his mind, responding with his own bow. "Nice to meet you, Amada-san."

"No, it's always nice to meet anyone who is a friend of Minato-san," Ken shakes his head, bowing to Minato's portrait on to tombstone before bending down and cleaning up a few dead flowers, and any debris that he could see. "I'm sure he enjoyed the company, especially from an old friend."

Ken's has a face seems to be accustomed to seriousness even when he stands back up with a plastic bag full of rubbish. "I'm here to clean up after ourselves yesterday. Sorry you had to see the mess," he shrugs a little sheepishly, "we had lunch here yesterday, and the group just pushed cleaning duties to me because I live close."

"It's fine," Akechi shakes his head as he finds himself walking down to the entrance with the first of Minato's friends he's ever seen. He knows enough to control himself – he's affected a few Akira's mannerisms, walking a little more casually, adopting a small tinge of a countryside accent while watching Ken from the corner of his eye. All he knows of Ken Amada is his possibility of being Minato's Justice Arcana, an intelligent child who had joined SEES for much darker reasons than first surmised. His revenge against Shinjiro for his mother's death had succeeded, even though it didn't bring the catharsis that he thought it would have.

However, Ken Amada had forcibly drawn himself together at the age of ten, and from then on supported SEES as much as he possibly could. It is an impressive resume in comparison to Akechi. When he'd been ten, he was still struggling to identify who his father was, let alone complete any form of revenge.

If he were more familiar, he could ask, as they share a companionable silence down the pathways out the graveyard. What does Ken think on revenge now? Ken Amada does not look like the ten-year-old sketched in Minato's halting words, pretending to be the adult that he knows he's not. They should both be in the first year of high school, and instead of a determined precociousness, Ken Amada is a boy grown slightly taller than him and walks with the grace of an athlete. There's a light, easy confidence about him that makes Akechi instantly peg him as the popular kind.

"How did you know Minato-san?" Ken asks amiably, and Akechi draws his cap down lower.

"Used to stay in Iwatodai," Akechi replies, slouching like the teenagers he sees skulking around the outskirts of Akihabara. "Minato used to visit the park I went to a lot and talk to me for some reason. He helped me with a few things, and we became friends."

Ken smiles with a spark of joy.

"That sounds like Minato-san. He loved walking around talking to anybody he can find," Ken says fondly. "He helped me a lot too, you know."

"Yeah?" Akechi asks, genuinely curious.

"Minato-san never talked much, but he was the sort of guy you'd always know would be there for you if you'd asked. He was a great guy, you know? The awesome kind of person I'd like to be one day." Ken interrupts himself as he glances down at his watch, eyes widening. "Aw, crap. We'll need to rush if we want to catch the next bus down, Sakura-san."

They both jog down the mountain, neither of them breathless when they run into the bus. Ken thanks the bus driver familiarly while Akechi counts the change for a single trip ticket. It's strange though, Akechi narrows his eyes over his face mask, that Ken is so determined to make conversation with him.

"Are you sure you're not hot underneath that mask?" Ken is asking, eyes filled with concern. Akechi leans backwards, closer to the window and nods.

"I was sick recently, so I'd rather not infect people."

There is nothing false about the way Ken continues conversation though, his chatter having delved into soccer. He's part of the school team, Ken says with a flash of cockiness before he promptly trips on the stairs off the bus and nearly falls straight on top of Akechi's head when they're both exiting to the station square. Only quick reflexes and Akechi's strong grip holding Ken's shoulder keeps him falling head-first onto concrete, and Ken quickly recovers.

"I'm not usually this clumsy, I promise!" He says in a fluster, and Akechi can't help but wish he imagined the speculative glint in Ken's face when he lets go. "Hope you're okay?"

"My train arrives soon," Akechi replies instead, giving Ken a shrug. He refrains from bowing, and he thickens his accent. "Nice meeting you, Amada."

"You too," Ken waves as he leaves. He watches the back of the teenager in front of him leave, head tilted before he fetches his phone from his pocket. "Hi to you too, Mitsuru-senpai. Yeah, I mean, I promised that I'd visit Minato's grave for the rest of the week but I didn't really expect… Huh? He looks like a boy my age actually. Black hair, I couldn't see his face clearly. I'll send the photo over sure, it's just a profile shot though."

Ken hums in reply as he re-enters the bus that he just left, nodding to the bus driver who raises an amused eyebrow at him.

"He's really strong, Mitsuru-senpai. Uncannily. I'm not a light guy, but he stopped me toppling headfirst from the bus with one arm, and he's not built large like Akihiko-senpai. He doesn't seem like a bad guy though… Yup, start tracking it now! I don't think he noticed. Don't worry, I'll keep visiting Minato-san for the rest of the week just in case. Koromaru is fine, he ate a little too much yesterday so he was being lazy this morning… Take care as well. It was nice to see you!"

Ken shuts the call and slumps in his seat as the bus trundles closer to the apartment that he shared with Koromaru.

Mitsuru's hiding things from him again, though it isn't as if he didn't understand why. It's not as much age-related as the fact that he's still only a reserve member of the Shadow Operatives. Mitsuru had even admitted yesterday over a team dinner, eyebrows knitted in a rare expression of seriousness, that it's a lead that she doesn't know will bear fruit or not. But there's hope, and they're trying to grasp any straws they could find.

One of them was asking Ken to visit Minato's grave, and Ken's been doing that for the past two weeks and was going to do it for a week more.

Mitsuru's 'hunch' had borne fruit for the first time today, with the exact profile that Mitsuru had briefly described.

"Koromaru! You ready for your walk yet, or are you still sulking?" Ken calls out into his apartment as he unlocks it, and happy barks greet him when he opens the door. Koromaru's curled tail wags quickly when Ken bends down and scratches the thick silver fur on his forehead. It's a quick job to change and head to a nearby park so that Koromaru could stretch his legs.

"Koromaru, what do you think about joining the Shadow Operatives again?" Ken asks his partner after an exhilarating run down the whole length of the park. Koromaru tilts his head, intelligent eyes telling Ken he's listening. "Maybe when Akihiko-senpai comes back?"

"Woof!"

"I know it's a little earlier than expected," Ken says, giving Koromaru's chin a scratch right underneath the fluff. "But I got a feeling that something strange is brewing."

"Woof!"

"Thanks, Koromaru," Ken laughs through Koromaru's affectionate head butt. "You're the best!"

On the shinkansen, Akechi holds up a small tracker up to his eye. It's a small circular button that stuck surprisingly well to the back of his coat. There're no manufacturing details on it, smooth and round when he rolls it in his fingers.

How interesting. Were they so desperate in their attempts to find him?

Akechi digs out a round pencil from his bag and it drops onto the floor, letting it roll away. Reaching down in a fluster to grab it, he bypasses another passenger's coat, muttering an apology when he brushes against it when the owner glances over. As he gets up, he slips the small tracker into the coat's pocket before sitting straight and looking out the window.

Perhaps it wouldn't be an entirely bad idea to contact Minato's friends for more support.

But, he thinks as he squints against the sun, not yet.

Akechi has long learnt that approaching a deal with vague presumptions of what he needs and what the other wants are a horrible idea. No matter how friendly Minato's friends may be, he's at least sure that Mitsuru Kirijo holds vast amounts of power and resources. Yukari Takeba is a minor celebrity, being the live-action actor for Featherman Victory, and Akihiko Sanada was a detective before leaving the country. They have all become adults with their own areas of expertise, and Akechi's trust only stretches so far.

Wakaba would laugh and call him paranoid, probably.

But no. He will only reach out once he has a clearer vision of what he wants, what he can take without indebting himself as he had once done with Shido.

He'd planned on stocking up on Wakaba's supplies during the school holidays because walking around the streets had started to become awkward. Girls were recognising him now, whispering when they caught sight of his face, and it wasn't as if he could hike up a scarf further up his face now that winter was over.

Akechi's finding himself more than happy just to stay around the dorm now, walking around nearby parks filled with locals that recognise him because of Saito. Elderly store owners cluck and smile at him, and the words 'Detective Prince' don't sound so invasive when it's through a gummy smile alongside an offered treat. Since nothing much had happened during this period in his last life, he had been cautiously optimistic that nothing would be happening in this life as well.

This small hope is dashed when he realises he's spending more and more time on Shido's expenses.

It's not anything, at first. Shido never violates the terms of their contract of one Palace a month, one informant a week.

It's just… time. Time with an associate there. Dinner with another group of people. Chats with wives, businessmen, entertainers, celebrities, on topics both mundane and edging on illegal on the excuse of keywords, or networking or being given rewards that Akechi doesn't know how to refuse without breaking persona.

The volume of his investigations suddenly billow as Akechi keeps meeting more and more people. He's sending Atsuzawa information on pyramid schemes, fake seed funds, illegal stock manipulations through collusions, and the more he scratches the surface the more he wears Atsuzawa's pin in a hidden seam of his shirt as a reminder that he hasn't sunk, he isn't drowning, not yet.

There are cameras around, Akechi knows. They have taken pictures of him being with these people, talking what they do. It's a collective threat that everyone accepts because Shido has shown one thing – and it's the promise of no retribution if you don't turn on him first. It's the metaphorical shark behind Shido's sharp smile, as he allows Akechi to attend in his place as a show of trust.

It's not trust, Akechi thinks as he stares up at the SIU Director for the first time in this life, officially introduced under Shido's name. The Director is a balding man, smile smug and conspiratorial when they meet.

"You too?" The Director says with faux surprise before his face slides into a conceit. "I can't believe that someone under Atsuzawa's unit works under Shido," he laughs in a way that makes his extra chins prominent, shoulders shaking underneath his suit. "No wonder Shido is so unafraid of him; he's already had our best investigator collared!"

"Yes," Akechi dips his head. He forcibly relaxes his fingers from an angry clench. "Shido-san has always been long-sighted in these matters, it's of no surprise."

"Tell Shido that I am as impressed as always at how he's always furthering his ambitions," the SIU Director says to him, his voice gaining a toadying tone. Akechi feels so much disgust, that this man instead of someone like Atsuzawa could climb into the seat of something so irrevocably powerful. Every interaction leaves an acrid taste in his mouth, and it feels numb talking to him sometimes, any reminder of the goodness he feels when he snarked with Wakaba, when he's following behind Atsuzawa's tall back distant and cold.

The SIU Director laughs about how he's redirected resources of key departments, how some of that money has been syphoned away for Shido's cause – with a bit of payment for himself, of course, for the effort – and asks Akechi if he has any opinions.

Akechi doesn't know what's happened to him that he can't find the exact brand of apathy that he had before, at all these people who are not Shido. He didn't use to care before, whether the SIU Director was letting a case file sink into the depths of bureaucracy, letting a poor family lose a sure-win case and bear the burden of the horrifyingly high lawyer costs that they'd risked for the sake of their crippled father. He didn't use to see humans when Shido shoved him a list of names, numbers, money, victims.

Atsuzawa carefully caters plans to catch at least some of them. He only arrests those that he can find a solid trail of evidence on. He double-checks everything with Akechi just in case, concern furrowing his brow.

"Relax, kiddo," he tries. They visit Takaki, they chat with Naho. Police Headquarters is filling with more of Shido and the Director's plants, so Akechi sometimes sits in Atsuzawa's apartment that smells like too many old books, Momo curling in his lap while sipping a cup of mediocre coffee. With peach fur tickling his chin and affectionate claws hooking random threads from his expensive sweaters, Akechi can sometimes, sometimes breathe. Both Atsuzawa and Akechi are terrible cooks, so they eat instant noodles whenever Akechi finds enough time to stay over, and sometimes Atsuzawa even listens through a semi-serious explanation on the logistics of Featherman Armour, face twisted in bemused confusion.

Then he's called to Shido, and there's another party, another cheque, and Shido's paved the way so that there is no reason Akechi can refuse.

Even watching Shido's frustration at some of his plans skewing wrong is not enough as the months go on and he's forced to face just how disgusting he had been, in his past life, playing the dancing, uncaring puppet. It's overwhelming and dizzying, a sharp plunge upwards into a world where going out on the street meant girls and attention and cameras and going home meant facing lists of trivial tasks for Shido.

It impresses him, he knows. High society isn't accepting, in general, to upstart quick celebrity statuses like his, but he's managed to wile his way into a form of pleasant entertainment. A pretty face, spouting prettier words. His worth is transforming under Shido's eyes.

"You are a surprise," Shido had told him, eyes intent behind his tinted glasses. "I won't lie when I say that you've surpassed all of my expectations," Shido continues as he looks down at his business tablet. He's presumably looking at the information Akechi has managed to accumulate.

People, networks. The weaknesses of prominent figures, what would entice them most. Who didn't like Shido's growing campaign. A total of five prominent people have become comatose, and Shido's circle have all started buzzing that all five were related to Shido.

He will want to monetise it soon. Akechi is trying to distract him from it with pointed arrests that clinch a little deeply into his circle, but that causes the attention to draw to Atsuzawa instead.

"When you first came here you were so uncertain," Shido muses. "Do you remember? It's already been more than half a year. And now you can extract the next probable investment that Tojoko Corp is going to do in less than half an hour. You're truly impressive, Akechi."

It's high praise. It's more than high praise from a man who prefers to snap at his subordinates than give positive reinforcement.

They're standing in a nondescript private area at the back of a conference venue, swathed in provided privacy for business meetings and otherwise. There are classy refreshments and comfortable couches upholstered in leather that would cost years of a normal salary. The elegance and bourgeois air lies thick in the air they breathe, and Akechi had once dreamed of this. Shido's recognition. Riches he's been denied.

He doesn't save the image of this opulence in his heart as a goal anymore. There is something bitter in the back of his throat that prevents him from doing so.

"You even resolved the conflict between Sato and Nakamura without escalating the issue," Shido says speculatively, and Akechi shakes his head.

"It was nothing, Shido-san." Akechi replies pleasantly. "It was just a petty misunderstanding that was easily resolved."

Shido raises an eyebrow, and Akechi thinks he's reading wrong because there's a sense of anticipation in there that he isn't accustomed to feeling. He buries a shiver.

"Chuzo told me you've made all the connections I've asked of you already," Shido says, still thoughtful. "Because of you, we've been able to accelerate some of the plans I have. If you continue to progress this way, perhaps one day you can even enter an event by my side."

A smirk. Akechi clenches his hands behind his back.

"That would be an honour, Shido-san."

"I look forward to what other skills I can unearth from you, Akechi," Shido says as he leaves in the rustle of an expensive suit, and something dark in his mind shifts.

Devil Rank 3 – Masayoshi Shido

The only positive in any of this is when he sees Haru on a guest list.

Their infrequent meetings are unexpectedly pleasant. He had known Haru Okumura is a kind person, but that had been a peripheral acknowledgement. It's only after he's become her friend that he sees why he's never been her acquaintance in the past. Haru's presence is swallowed by the people around her. A quiet shadow next to her father, a silent figure around her peers. She's pretty, but not flamboyantly so, and dislikes the attention her looks brings.

Haru looks excited when they successfully meet, face stretched into an excited smile when she secretly takes out a small box from her purse.

"Here you go, Akechi-kun!" Haru says excitedly, placing the box gently in between them. "My very first batch of capsicums! I've sliced them raw to bring them here, I hope you don't mind. Please tell me what you think, as honestly as possible."

Corporate dinners never filled him up, so it's with little difficulty that Akechi takes a slice and tries eating it.

His eyes immediately start to water, and it's only years and years of self-control that stops him from grimacing at the sheer bitterness that explodes in his mouth from the juices and crawls all the way up to his sinuses. How is this capsicum so damn bitter?

"It's," Akechi coughs a little. Breathes a little fresh air. "A little bitter, Haru-san."

"Oh," Haru droops, her excitement fading into sheepish disappointment. "I see. I admit, I tried some myself on the way here and did feel that they tasted a little strong, but I hoped it was still palatable."

Akechi sips from the glass of water he'd brought to the balcony with him, and it manages to spreads the taste. He will not cough. If he can stand smiling at Shido's goons for four hours, he can smile for a girl he hopes will become his friend.

A muscle in his cheek twitches as he turns his smile to Haru.

"It is certainly refreshing though," Akechi admits, adjusting his posture so that it's a little more informal and agreeable. "I've been stressed with a lot of work recently, and that one slice woke me right up."

"I did take the seeds from an experimental lab in Okumura Foods," Haru admits as she takes a slice herself and eats it without a flinch. "Perhaps that's the intended effect of it? But it does seem like I need to first reduce the astringency…"

Her smile is bright when she turns to him.

"Thank you for tasting it, Akechi-kun! I promise the next batch will be sweeter."

"I… look forward to it, Haru-san," Akechi says with his gentlest smile, and Haru falls for it. Her own smile relaxes, and there's a bit of contentment as they spin into different topics. Novels, this week. From the topic of Femme Fatales comes a surprisingly rousing debate that delves into the topic of purity and corruption dichotomy in women's literature.

Haru is well-read, literature being one of her stronger subjects in school. When school starts, she even begins to shyly sketch out a few of her compositions between them after Akechi admitted his honour student status.

That's not to deny that there are some times where one of the two are obviously in a worse mood than usual. Akechi has them more and more often under Haru's sympathetic eye, where he's clenching and reclenching his hands for something to do as he tries to feel something other than numb apathy. Haru has intense quiet episodes as well, that Akechi can do nothing about except sit next to her in the gardens or whatever greenery she can find.

It is May when she chooses to share, hesitantly, on her thoughts. Springtime brings unidentifiable scents of sweet flowers to where they stand at a small, nondescript balcony used more to let in the fresh air than for guests to stand around.

Akechi is having a better day than usual – he's finished his tasks and evaded most of Shido's goons with energy to spare – and perhaps it's because of this that Haru cracks.

"It's merely the fact that this is the first time this week I've been able to eat dinner with my father," Haru says quietly, looking down at her hands clasped in front of her. "He didn't even look at me really, except praising me when someone asked me what year of school I was in. I feel like he's slowly slipping away from me."

The revolving masses behind them are still the same – a distant, constant low roar of many striking out benefits, talking of value, amounting lives and salaries and resources with a simple shift of a phrase, a smile and a solid handshake. There were a few of the younger generation like him and Haru invited, to demonstrate familial solidarity, for exposure, or for the sheer networking opportunities. As a person pulled in because of his minor celebrity status from the police force, he knows he's a novelty at best – a few talks and laughs are all he amounts to, and he makes the most of it.

Haru is the only daughter of a major growing conglomerate, but he always finds her alone.

"Do you dislike it, Haru-san?" Akechi tilts his head back at the shark tank behind them, the rules and smiles and promises.

"Oh no," Haru shakes her head, hair flying out in a gentle puff. "I would never take the life I live now for granted. We weren't always rich, so I really do understand the sacrifices my father is making to provide so much for me. I'm," she says now, her smile still holding that slightly sad tilt, "just silly, I suppose."

Akechi waits patiently beside her, and she lets out a long, shaky breath. Before the moment truly slips away, Akechi prompts. "What do you mean by silly, Haru-san?"

"It's nothing," Haru tries to deflect before she hesitates again when they both glimpse her father past the crowd, laughing at a table of other suits with his cheeks slightly red from wine. Then she deflates because they both know that Kunikazu hasn't even noticed that his daughter has slipped away. "It should be nothing, seeing how hard my father works. I'm ready to do my part too, so it's not that. I guess I just selfishly wish that my father…"

"Your father is still there for you?" Akechi finishes for her, because she's honestly struggling, and Haru flinches a little at his statement before nodding.

"Yes. I know why that's impossible, so isn't it silly?" She tilts her head to smile up at him, and Akechi twists his own smile into something sympathetic.

Too gentle of a person, Akechi allows himself to think. It's not an archetype he hasn't met before, though it is rare. Haru is kind to the point of self-effacement but independent enough to try tackle her demons alone. That same kindness makes the difficulties of others hold higher importance to those of her own. Anything she is struggling with must surely be, in her judgement, her own weakness.

This road of independence stems from insecurity and does no-one favours. It's a self-defeating road that has grown into the route she is taking now in quiet acceptance. It's a road that others may label as 'mature' and 'self-sacrificing'.

All Akechi sees is resignation.

A smiling girl always on the edges of any party, looking out into a gilded future lined up for her and bound to it by her love and sense of duty to her father. A father, Akechi notes, who ultimately betrays that devotion.

He sees why Haru Okumura will be able to join Akira's band of Phantom Thieves.

"Hey, Akechi-kun," Haru says, burying her chin into her arms as she leans forwards onto the balcony. Her large brown eyes look up at the dark night sky, the light ambience swallowing the stars. Music echoes past them, a song she once mentioned she liked in passing, and Haru smiles wistfully. "What would you do if you were me?"

"If I had a person I cared about slowly leave me?" Akechi asks, and Haru nods, tilting her head so that her cheek rests on the delicate embroidery on her sleeves. Akechi hums before he lets a sliver of his real smile slip through. His eyes narrow gently. "If I understand their reasons, I'll examine if I care enough to stop them. If I don't, I'll just let them go. I don't understand why I have to waste hurt on something I can clearly turn mutual."

Haru blinks at him in surprise, straightening up a little as her eyes now trained on him as Akechi continues.

"If I understand their reasons and I care enough not to let them go," Akechi says, smile a little sharp, "I'll remind them why we had a relationship in the first place, and help them re-examine their reasons so that they align with mine. There is rarely only one solution to a matter," he says to Haru, "and I don't think myself unintelligent enough not to be able to find a way to at least prolong the situation until I find a better answer."

He lets that statement rest a little before he laughs gently at her wide eyes and faces the night sky himself.

"And if I ever found someone that I'd cling to even if they insist on leaving me…" He trails off as his mother flashed into his mind. The years and years of anger and hurt he'd dedicated to her. "I've never met someone like that, so I don't know what I'd do," he says with a smile.

Haru has sat back up, not minding her expensive dress crinkling as she twists in her seat to face Akechi fully.

"Akechi-kun, that was a little different to how you usually speak," Haru says, and Akechi laughs again.

"I'm sorry for showing my true colours, Haru-san."

"Oh no," she says with a growing smile, demeanour somehow sweet despite the humour in her eyes. "I appreciate the edge of honesty in your words, Akechi-kun. As you know, the people around me rarely tell me their honest thoughts… And if those were your true colours, I don't dislike it."

Haru smooths the crinkles in her dress, and her smile never fades when she continues. "In fact, I think I may even be a little jealous. You're very strong, Akechi-kun."

"In my eyes, you're quite strong yourself," Akechi replies, and Haru's smile and the slight melancholic tilt in it doesn't falter.

"Am I?" She asks, before her phone buzzes and she looks at it. "Oh, it's time for me to leave again. Akechi-kun, thank you for today. I truly mean it," she insists as she draws herself up, pulling on her shawl and bowing to him. "These days I find myself often looking through guest lists wondering if you'll be there."

"I'll take that as a compliment," Akechi readily replies, and rises to his feet as well. "See you again, Haru-san."

Haru laughs, a high airy thing.

"I look forward to it, Akechi-kun!"

Empress Rank 2 - Haru Okumura

Akechi sits in one of the guest chairs on Good Morning Japan behind a screen, colourful neon backgrounds and roving cameras ready for action a tizzy of controlled chaos. An unfortunate spotlight shines straight right at his face momentarily blinding him. He doesn't flinch though his eyes do water, and he's wondering how is this his life again?

The director nods encouragingly at Akechi from the side, but that isn't what he's concerned about.

He hadn't met Director Yoshizawa or appeared on Good Morning Japan until there'd been a significant amount of mental breakdowns finished. Currently, there were only seven people he'd sent into a coma. Each had been high profile in their own way and had drawn significant attention individually. But not enough for this.

"Today we have a special episode! Yes, we're bringing back our special guest panel, where we invite three famous names from three different industries that have been popping up in the news lately. We absolutely know everyone wants to know a little bit more of the three we've invited today. Does anyone have any guesses who is behind each of these three screens?"

Enthusiastic answers are read out from both social media and the attending crowd in front of them by the energetic hosts, a man and woman pair who have always been polite enough to Akechi.

"We'll reveal our very first one! Yes, it's the rising music star… Hayate Misono! From a piano prodigy to writing hit after hit, Misono-san won the title of Best Album on Top 100 Chart's 2014 Awards and is now on our show to tell us more about his newest top single, The Sun's Iris!"

There's a rising cheer as someone is revealed. The voice that replies to the host's questions is surprisingly youthful, awkward enough in an endearing way.

"Alright, our next guest is someone that has kept himself away from the spotlight despite standing out in recent months for his natural talent and genius. First finding fame in trying to rescue a fellow officer, he's gone on to solve case after case that the public cannot help but be stunned every week. Please welcome… Goro Akechi!"

The screen in front of him rises, and he's suddenly smiling at the small crowd in front of him, sitting the studio's elevated seats. The cheers don't dim when he's revealed – in fact, there's a lot of people who look excited to see him there.

"Hello, it's an honour to be here," Akechi immediately bows politely, and the hosts tut fondly.

"No need to be so polite, Akechi-kun!" The woman smiles, her bright teeth shining from her face when she turns to him. "We're so glad you agreed to our invitation to come onto our show. No-one has managed to nab you for a solid interview or media appearance yet, so we're the ones honoured to see you."

"Your first time on TV, isn't it?" The male host cuts in with a laugh. "How're you feeling?"

"Quite nervous, actually," Akechi laughs like he was taught. There's nothing unflattering in how the laugh creases his face as he instinctively turns his profile towards the camera. "I'm not quite used to having so much attention on myself, so I can only hope I'm not too boring."

"Relax, Akechi-kun," the female host smiles. "I'm sure you'll do just fine! Now, for our third guest – child actress turned media all-star, a woman that has all the critics talking with her latest film Sweet Summer's Ending… Please welcome Rise Kujikawa!"

"Hey, everyone!" A cheerful woman that even Akechi recognises waves from the third couch, her beaming smile eliciting the biggest cheer yet. She waves at the crowd cheerfully before sending a wink and a flying kiss, and some of her fans mime catching it. "I'm so glad to be here again!"

"And we're glad to have you, Risette!" The male host continues. "It's been a while since we've had you on show. Wasn't the last time when you put out your hit album Loveless?"

"Yup! I remember you telling me you're quite a fan of mine too, aren't you?" Rise giggles and the conversation goes from there. All three of them are drawn into a conversation about trivial questions like what their favourite colour is, and what type of person they liked. Misono is a surprisingly demure young man, black hair in a neat cut that frames his face, white hands placed neatly on his knees as he answers questions sincerely.

Risette is on the totally opposite side of the spectrum. She's channelling energy like only a pop idol can, throwing in crowd participation when she answers, bubbling with answers when a question is directed at her. She's obviously an expert at handling the crowd – she merely has to change her tone for the whole studio to fall silent and listen to her. It's quite amazing to watch a superstar in action.

Akechi has never been as demure as Misono, and the thought of him doing any of Risette's pop idol moves makes him want to burst into laughter.

He doesn't default to his previous Detective Prince persona. It was something he'd decided early, mainly because being the perfect Prince had a whole slog of rules that Akechi can't be bothered to uphold.

So he crafts this second mask carefully. A serious person, he thinks, with a quirky sense of humour.

"If you're asking me who I like," Akechi replies with a slightly more serious air than before, "then I'd say I like a person who has a sense of humour. And perhaps likes horror movies."

"Horror movies?" The lady host leans forward with exaggerated intrigue. "That's oddly specific, Akechi-kun!"

"I am a detective, after all," Akechi smiles with a wry twist. "What if I bring a case back home filled with pictures of a crime scene to someone who can't handle that sort of thing? Wouldn't they immediately break up with me?"

"Of course not, Akechi-kun!" Risette grins. "They'd stay for your good looks! I wonder if that's a recurring thing with Detective Princes? Naoto is also really handsome."

"Risette, does that mean you approve of Akechi's looks?" One of the hosts cut in, and Risette raises a hand to her face, batting her lashes jokingly before putting it down.

"Akechi-kun looks great, but I prefer my men older than me," she replies. "What about you, Misono-kun?"

"I've never dated, so I don't know," Misono replies simply, leaning close to his mic. "But I believe I'll know what I like when I start liking someone, Rise-san."

Their dynamic works surprisingly well, something that's easy to spot through the host's behaviours. Akechi has sat through much worse ones, where he's sitting in an interview with an avid Phantom Thief supporter, for example, and the hosts are struggling to curb the aggression while still keeping the show entertaining. Here the hosts are relaxed as they guide them to the topics they want. There's a familiar thrill every time the crowd laughs at one of his jokes, when they applaud whenever he speaks.

It's an electric energy when he sees the crowd all looking at him. All admiring him. All envious, when Risette gives each of them a goodbye kiss on the cheek. It curls around him like a familiar ghost even as he tries to distract himself from it.

The show ends with everyone happy – the crowd feeds off the energy, clapping a few moments more than required before everyone starts filing out the doors at the direction of the assistants. There are only a few people who are left, and Rise's not nearly off the set before her phone rings.

She looks at the caller before sighing loudly, waving her assistant away before walking to an unobtrusive corner that's… not that far away from anyone, really, since the set isn't that large.

"Yosuke-senpai, why are we changing the schedule? Didn't we all agree to pick up Senpai from Tokyo University because he'll get side-tracked by cats again? We're scoping Kanda today…"

There's a pause, before a gasp of surprise.

"Wait, Nanako-chan's visiting today? Why didn't anyone tell me?! Of course, we can go to Destinyland, we can just say we're changing where we're investigating, that's all. We can tell that Alibaba guy we'll check out Kanda another day…"

She's walking off towards the back of the set, voice fading. "Wow, a day with Senpai at Destinyland! Is this a dream come true?"

Although Akechi had been studiously scrolling through his phone, something in that conversation is niggling his memories.

It's not a particularly strange conversation. A name, perhaps? Yosuke, and a mysterious senpai…

"It was lovely to meet you today, Akechi-kun," a soft voice distracts him from his thoughts, and Akechi looks up to see Misono. The other man is almost a head shorter than him, eyes gentle as he bows. "I've always found it interesting to meet people from other jurisdictions of life."

"Me too, Misono-san. Although I'm not a particularly musical person, I've listened to an album carrying your name once. I quite liked it, despite it being quite avant-garde. I'm not sure if this rings a bell?"

He describes the album cover – the lone stag in the forest, the jarring piano compositions, before Misono's eyes widen. Not just that, a guy hanging a few steps behind Misono has stopped staring at the ceiling in boredom to scrutinise Akechi before his eyes widen.

"No way, you can't be!" The boy bounds next to Misono, obviously friends by how unperturbed Misono is by him leaning heavily on his shoulder. Misono just adjusts when the boy leans forward in excitement. "Did someone recommend that CD?"

Akechi's looking at them both, before nodding.

"Yes, I was buying other music when that was recommended to me. What…"

He looks further and sees that the boy is wearing hipster clothing. Earrings, shredded jeans, carefully styled natural-looking hair, and he frowns.

"Akechi-kun, the album you just described was one of my first ones," Misono answers with a slight smile. "It is also my worst-selling one. No-one wanted to buy it. Even now, no-one recommends it."

"I love it!" The boy replies to Misono, jostling the other man's elbow, and Misono smiles fondly at him. "Hey, Detective Prince Akechi-kun! Did you buy that CD from," and he names a shop that doesn't ring any bells with Akechi until he also names a suburb quite close to Shibuya.

"Yes," Akechi replies. "How did…"

"I think I'm the one who gave you that CD!" The hipster-looking guy says, and Akechi is scouring his memories now. It had been a short moment, anyhow, and bizarre besides. At least the forcefulness matches his memories. "What a coincidence! I was a little disappointed that you never came back to tell me if you liked the CD or not, you know?"

The boy swings a hand out to shake, face an open book of expectation even while Misono starts adopting an expression of light exasperation.

"Hi, I'm Hikaru Kondo! I'm a music student moonlighting busker. Anyone who likes Misono's first album is someone I will like! Can we be friends?"

"Hikaru, don't bother Akechi-kun," Misono finally steps in, trying to push Hikaru's hand down.

Raised in another country, perhaps?

But there's something in Hikaru's eyes, a directness to it that has Akechi holding out his phone in offering.

Akechi doesn't believe in coincidence. He thinks, maybe.

Could it be?

A quick beep later, Hikaru is laughing, a ringing laugh that freezes alongside him.

"Look, Misono! I made a new friend!" Hikaru turns excitedly to his companion, who is hiding a smile behind his hand.

"Alright, you've done enough. Thank you for listening to Hikaru's whims, Akechi-kun. We have to leave now, or we'll miss our shuttle. May we meet again."

"If you're going to the music shop anytime, text me!" Hikaru calls. Misono's grip must be deceptively strong because he's basically dragged out of the premises.

It leaves Akechi to say goodbye to all the crew members, looking at the new number in his phone with speculation.

"Bro, you got a kiss on the cheek from Risette," is basically the opinion of his whole class when he arrives, the boys in awe.

"Will you truly only accept girls that like horror movies, Akechi-kun?" The girls clamour to ask, and he retreats to the honour student group who does all of the same gushing but at least quieter.

The next week, Akechi's eyes are inevitably drawn to the comments underneath the Good Morning Japan episode. Most of them are for Risette – praising how cute she is, and how beautiful she's grown up. Many of them are also praising her new movie – a tragicomedy where she truly shines, apparently, and many fans lurk to fight out their opinions in increasingly long message chains.

Misono also has a fair share of fans who are much more subdued. The whole group seems to be of the more artsy sort in any case, and many praised Misono's humble nature.

Interspersed in equal amounts in the sea of Risette comments are ones directed to him.

Akechi-kun is so handsome! Is the main consensus, followed by other praises on certain jokes he told, or how smart and successful he is already. There are negative ones, of course, but in all, he can't help but refresh the page a few times a day and read through them all.

It's a familiar, addicting feeling that Akechi is trying his hardest to shake off.

He's been down this path before. The validation of these masses needs to mean nothing. He shouldn't so happy with being seen.

On an early Saturday, after putting down baskets near the Hospital's main information centre, Saito thinks it over.

"We exist when we are in the minds of others," Saito says, watching the small kid corral in front of her. It's an old thing, colourful mats long worn smooth by many little feet and the plastic balls and games provided scarred with too much usage. "You shouldn't judge yourself too harshly just because you like the attention. Everyone likes validation, Akechi-kun."

"Even when you know that it's all a farce?" Akechi asks back, tone pleasant, stacking the knitted toys from Saito's basket onto a small display for her.

"It's not about whether it's a farce or not with fame," Saito shakes her head. "Because at the moment, that validation is real. The praise is real. Perhaps it's fragile praise that can collapse and be forgotten in a heap, but that doesn't stop you from knowing that you were great in someone else's eyes in just that moment. When you read comments about yourself, you're probably just prolonging that grand feeling, Akechi-kun. As long as you don't get dependant on it, it's not bad to enjoy it a little. I mean, I can brag I know the Second Detective Prince to the kids now, you know?"

Saito's smile is a warm thing that nearly swallows her eyes, and Akechi manages a chuckle.

"Why are you always right, Saito-san?"

"That's because I'm old," Saito replies. "And questions about validation are a familiar thing because it's not as if only children need it. Everyone does, for the sake of proving that your existence means something."

Akechi finishes the display of colourful knitted accessories and dolls, stacking the baskets on top of one another.

"Even you, Saito-san?"

"Maybe," Saito says. "The older I get, the more I wonder if it's the fate of the elderly to fade from everyone's minds, as slowly and as painlessly as possible. No one to remember you, no person living to make new memories with… Is meaning something that can be created by oneself in a void?"

Akechi quietly picks up Saito's baskets, listening.

He's long noticed that Saito isn't as happy as she seems. Although penultimately an optimistic person, conversations often drift to more existential, lonelier topics.

Isolation, worth. Family.

Despite the many photos of Saito's family on her desk, Akechi has never once seen anyone visit Saito at all. No grandchildren running around, no added pictures on the wall. Saito's office first looks like a place of familial warmth. But the more he visits Saito, sitting in her unchanging office, surrounded by photos and drawings of people he's never seen her live with, visit, or even talk seriously about—

There is, Akechi thinks, definitely something there.

"By the way, Akechi-kun. Do you want to visit with me?"

"Who are you talking about, Saito-san?" Akechi asks.

"The girl you recommended to me before just gave birth to her child," Saito says kindly. "She says she wants to thank you if you don't mind."

"Hinata Osumi?" Akechi asks with a hint of hesitation over the name. It's been a few months since then – It's May now, and he'd thought he would never hear from her again.

"Yes," Saito says patiently. "Would you have the time? I'll be leaving to visit her at ten-thirty."

He… didn't have anything much to do. Wakaba's stocks are high, his own tools crafted and ready to use in bulk. Shido rarely has jobs for him to do in the daytime, and schoolwork was still laughingly easy. Atsuzawa was out of their precinct again, on the Director's orders.

Perhaps this is what Saito needs to raise her Arcana?

"I wouldn't mind accompanying you to meet her, Saito-san," Akechi ultimately agrees, and Saito nods with a smile.

"Come back down here at ten-thirty then, Akechi-kun. Hinata-san would be glad to see you again."

A few hours later, he's suddenly holding a baby in his arms, his absolutely tiny little brother and it's squirming and this is the worst idea he's ever had. With an unhappy choke, it vomits fluid onto his sleeve before going straight back to rubbing its dirty mouth all over the front of his coat, and Akechi wants to take his coat to the dry cleaners right this instant.

"Oh, isn't Shion as cute as always," Saito coos.

"He really seems to like you, Akechi-kun," Hinata nods, and Akechi doesn't understand how they came to those conclusions because Shion stares at him with soulless eyes before upchucking another mouthful of fluid.

Heavens, babies were so gross.

Sun Rank 2 - Ise Saito

Chapter Text

The temporary housing that Hinata is placed in isn't bad – it's a share house, but Hinata assures them that since everyone who stayed were young women it wasn't as intimidating as it could be. There's a familiar tinge of an institution in how everything is set out – the straight corridors with wear and tear in the corners and walls from many tenants moving in and out of the residence, the cheerful impersonality of the reception.

The issue is the fact that this organisation targets young, pregnant women. After birth, Hinata has half a year before she will be politely pushed to find other housing options.

Saito says this with a familiar look of resigned placation. Hinata is cradling Shion to her chest after Akechi had quickly given it back to her, coat now hanging on his arm because of its fluids.

"I know it's unfair," Saito says with a weary smile, "but half a year is still better than some other programs. Some of the houses have turnover rates of three months, which is definitely skimping on resources."

Saito has a gift for waiting patiently, and that's what she does as Akechi makes himself scarce by standing in the corner of Hinata's side of the room. The other side holds another single bed with baby clothes geared towards girls, the concrete room lit weakly by a small window across from him. It was cloudy today, the grey sort that tinged everything with just a touch of monochrome. Saito and Hinata look like a part of a black-white still-life painting, Saito's hunched back and Hinata's sudden stillness.

"It's alright," Hinata finally says, and in her eyes is that flicker of steely determination that Akechi had first seen when he offered her a hand in the dark. "I only added myself to the extra part of the maid service because it paid well. I have other good sources for my resume."

There's a sharpness in that response that makes Akechi take notice. A familiar look in her eyes.

Like calls to like, after all.

"That's a really good spirit, Hinata-san," Saito's response is smooth like water, sounding vaguely professional and encouraging as she pulls an old tablet from her small bag. "If you don't mind this retired old lady butting in when they probably invite a worker to the centre, I can help you with what unemployment portals to join and such."

"Please, Saito-san," Hinata bows seriously in Saito's direction, and they go through a familiar song and dance that Akechi has heard variations of, throughout his years. There are many organisations and Departments in their resulting session he hasn't heard for a long time, a nostalgic bitterness rising when he hears them.

"You must be bored, Akechi-kun," Saito laughs twenty minutes into their discussion. Akechi looks up from the comments that readers gave on an article covering his apparent 'genius'. He switches the screen of his phone off when he turns up the charm and shakes his head.

"Hardly, Saito-san. I'm here to visit Osumi-san with you, not to disrupt your own visitation. And your discussion is educational in itself, if not slightly nostalgic," Akechi flits his face to something more wistful, and the gaze of both women in front of him holds realisation and sympathy.

"I read from an article that you were an orphan, Akechi-kun?" Hinata asks as she absentmindedly wipes some drool of Shion's face with his bib.

Akechi gives a slight shrug, expression sliding into melancholy. "Well, yes. My father left my mother as soon as she was found pregnant, and she was also a young lady such as yourself at the time. Raising me by herself was a hard endeavour. She, unfortunately, died when I was eight. Your conversation reminded me of my own experience in institutions…" He trails off, before returning back to meet Hinata's eyes, and he crinkles his own in a smile. "It also makes me wonder if my mother also had these struggles when I was young."

Hinata purses her lips. "I'm sorry to hear that your father was a scumbag too." Akechi tries hard to hide the flash of humour that the sentence sparks.

"Indeed," Akechi demurs, tucking his smile away for a politer one.

He'd usually consider this a waste of time, but he finds it hard to consider it so when Saito's Arcana ranked up for the first time in the months he's known her. It's harder to find an edge for her – the relationship between him and Wakaba had been clear from the start; the exploration of the Metaverse. Atsuzawa's role as Justice was similarly reflected in their interactions and very job. What angle was she?

Family? Connections? Social justice?

So when Saito hums and frowns over a certain place that Hinata has to visit in person, Akechi finds himself volunteering.

"If it's not convenient for you, Saito-san, I don't mind helping Osumi-san on that day. Your booking on June… the twelfth? That government agency is quite close to Police Headquarters, and I've passed it a few times. It's only for initial reporting, right?"

"Would you, Akechi-kun?" Saito brightens up. "I have to go to the doctors for a check-up that day, so it'll be a weight off my mind."

"I'll meet you at Nagatacho Station?" Akechi asks genially at Hinata, who shrugs in reply.

"If you're offering, I'll appreciate the guidance," Hinata replies. "Though if you're busy, I really can handle all this by myself."

And the world freezes, to Akechi's shock.

Another Arcana so soon? He finds there are strange prerequisites with Arcanas. Sometimes they seem arbitrary – Hikaru is a prime example, Wakaba as well. But in other times they seem strangely interconnected. If he had never refused Shido's offer to lodge in one of his apartments, he would never have met Saito. And perhaps without Saito, he would never have met Hinata again.

He turns to Hinata with renewed interest.

"No, it's no imposition at all. I've recently found myself having more time on my hands since no major ongoing investigations are going on right now."

"Right, Detective Prince," Hinata's smile transforms into something slightly teasing. "How many girls will want to kill me by walking next to you?"

"My fanbase is negligible, Osumi-san. I'm sure whatever you're imagining is a gross exaggeration of reality," Akechi feigns humbleness.

Saito watches them with a smile on her face. "That's settled then," she claps with satisfaction, before starting to wrap up their talk. "Akechi-kun, I'll give you the rest of the materials on the day to pass onto Hinata-san," Saito promises. "We covered more bases than I expected today."

"We'll take our leave then," Akechi excuses them both, and Hinata trails behind them to give them a proper farewell at the gate.

"She's a good girl," Saito says fondly as they walk down to the bus stops together. "I'm glad we were able to help her."

Akechi stays silent, letting Saito chatter off into other topics. An avid bird watcher, Saito takes care to point to any bird they see and share her experiences with them, some which are genuinely humorous and make Akechi huff out into surprised laughter.

"Now that's an expression you should make more often," Saito says with satisfaction when they reach the dorm again. "See you soon, Akechi-kun. Thank you again, for offering to help."

They separate with a smile. Akechi takes the time before evening to roam Mementos and spend time honing Morrigan. The eerie silence, the wind that sometimes picks up – after Wakaba, Mementos never felt the same. There's a truncated train of thought around the corner, a continuous mumble behind his shoulder, and Akechi tries his hardest not to search for ghosts as he continues onward.

With the advent of fame, Akechi fights his way down and stands in front of a previously blocked entrance to Mementos. The glowing red stripes on the black doors pulse before a simple touch slides it open. Akechi looks down at the revealed escalator.

You're more than ready, Morrigan says. I'm sick of bashing up Pixies. Let's go.

What had Morgana called these paths? Akechi thinks to himself as his metal sabatons clink against the iron grooves of the escalator, descending from a throbbing blood red to a deep blue. There's already a shiver that crawls up his spine as he descends into Aiyatsbus. From here on, the exploration of floors will have to be quick. On feet, it'll be much more difficult than being in Morgana's cat bus.

A familiar thrum of adrenaline hits his veins as he jumps down onto the tracks and starts jogging through the blue tunnels, the Shadows here the same shambling wrecks they usually are, if only slightly more difficult.

The last time, the furthest in Mementos he had ever gotten was Sheriruth, and that was because of the Phantom Thieves taking the world by the storm. If Akechi only spoke of his fame as a Detective Prince, he had only delved as far as Akzeriyyuth.

He hadn't forgotten that one of the main clues to his situation is the continued mystery of Mementos. He had died before the depths of Mementos was revealed to him, even though all of the Phantom Thieves had noted the nigh creepy notes that Mementos took as they got further down. The bars, the cognitive Shadows of people catching trains towards the very depths of society's dark psyche…

Yet another reason, Akechi thought as he magnified his laser sword with a brief burst of concentration and cut through three Succubus at once, to allow Akira's arrest. Without the Phantom Thieves, the depths of Mementos would never open.

It might've hurt his pride to admit it so frankly a few months ago, but 'saving the world' was a different beast than 'kill Shido'. One was a powerful man. The other…

Minato's stories flash in Akechi's mind; of the powers that are strong enough to affect reality so vividly, of his own last battle against Nyx.

The other, Akechi finally allows himself to think with a dry swallow, may be equivalent to a God. If he faced reality, Joker had surpassed him in a mere year. Even if the latent problem lay in Akira's own hands for accepting a deal that destroys the world, there is also no other that Akechi would want to be by his side to face such a dangerous unknown.

It's with a mental apology that Akechi emerges from Mementos, capturing the perfect moment when the sun dipped under the horizon. The Tokyo street stretches straight for a length before curving, and the gleam of purple sun on the metal chassis of passing cars is a sight beautiful enough that he sends it to Akira.

It's near the end of May already, Akechi thinks as he looks at the chat log. Full of trivial, petty, beautiful things they try to share with each other. A waste of time he wouldn't indulge with anyone else, if not for the thoughts and importance of the other to him. Nothing can really change the fact that he was the first hand in the dark. He cannot seem to help the fact that all his plans require Akira to be a functioning asset. Its as if he was fate's lynchpin. Golden boy to the end.

Enjoy your rest, Akira.

On June the second, he goes to the music shop for a new CD. Atsuzawa has banned him from investigating alongside him when he's chasing one of Shido's leads for Akechi's safety, so Naho has been giving him a few more breaks in their schedule. He thinks he should do something for his birthday. Turning seventeen isn't something particularly special to him the first or second round through, but he thinks he should at least do something.

And because he is going there, he texts Hikaru.

Pursuing Arcanas haven't led him wrong so far, and his impressions on Hikaru have painted such a disparate picture of him in comparison to Akechi that he admits that he feels some curiosity.

[Akechi: Hello, Hikaru Kondo. I am Goro Akechi, we exchanged contacts at the TV Station. I was wondering if your invitation to meet up was still available?]

It takes a few minutes of Akechi staring sightlessly out the train windows until his phone buzzes with a reply.

[Kondo: Oh man, perfect! I was free this afternoon too! I'm excited, hehe. See you there :D]

Sure enough, the other teen has an instrument case on his back when he greets Akechi at the front of the store, and his school uniform is surprisingly familiar. The striped tie and shirt combo is something Akechi sees nearly every morning, as a few Kosei High students also use Saito's building.

"It's nice to meet you again, Kondo-kun," Akechi greets the other boy with a polite bow, and Hikaru grins. A few earrings gleam in his ear, silver hoops that match the slightly wild aura he has.

"That sounds strange! I've never really gotten used to people calling me by my last name. Just call me Hikaru, and maybe you'll let me call you Goro?"

Hikaru's wide grin is unrepentant at how shocking that statement is, and Akechi blinks.

Goro. It's not a name that anyone in his life really uses. That casual intimacy was something even Akira had never crossed.

"That silence means a yes, right?" Hikaru blithely continues, dragging Akechi inside by the arm. "Punch me if you actually don't want me to use it because Misono always complains I come on too strong. But please don't punch too hard, because violence is banned in the store and you don't want any staff to see. That granny over there? Keeps grudges for months, don't want to get on her bad side."

Hikaru rambles, pointing to a cleaning lady, dodge clumps of students hovering over different genres of CDs until they arrive at the secluded corner of the second-hand section again.

"Whew! Whoops, I didn't ask before coming here instinctively. Anything you got in mind, Goro? I have a spectacular memory for music!"

Hikaru puffs out his chest, and Akechi examines his Star Arcana. Enthusiastic, slightly childish. Determined to be his friend, for some strange reason.

"Do you know any of these albums on this list, Hikaru-kun?" He finally asks, taking out the list he wrote a year back. He had kept it with his music CDs, a small cut of paper scribbled with the artists that Minato had shared with as much enthusiasm as he'd ever seen from him.

Hikaru takes the piece of paper carefully and scans the names on it.

"Wow, these are some great artists you have here. The album names are all late 2000s though," Hikaru muses as he thinks, rubbing his chin. He absent-mindedly dodges another customer who is shuffling through, sliding the hard plastic of his instrument case to his front to avoid being jostled. "I had a feeling when you didn't come back to buy more music, but are you trying to buy all this music on recommendation?"

Although he asks this, he's already given back the piece of paper and looking critically over the shelves in front of him, pulling out a few plastic cases when he finds what he's looking for.

"I wanted to expand my horizons, and one of my friends was a big fan of music. His recommendations haven't led me wrong so far," Akechi shares, and Hikaru hums. His brown hair catches the light when he turns, painted nails tapping on the stack of CDs that he's already found for him.

"You'll have to find the rest on the internet," Hikaru says as he plops five cases into his hand. "I've never seen them in-store."

After waiting together to check-out the CDs, they talk casually about the genres of music that they listen to. When Akechi casually mentions jazz, Hikaru's eyes light up.

"Hey, if you like jazz, want to go somewhere with me?"

And that's how they end up in a jazz bar in Kichijoji, Akechi looking around in appreciation at the dark ambience and the calm atmosphere that's steeped into this place. The other patrons aren't overly loud, some listening to the live music with appreciation, others talking in low murmurs. The exposed brick of the walls give it a little rustic charm, and it feels… enclosed. Removed from society just a street above.

"I come here a lot," Hikaru laughs over a lime-green drink. He'd ordered the same for Akechi, and when he sips it, there's a refreshing taste of cucumber, lime and a hint of melon. "Not that often with friends though. It's a quiet and calm place, and I know the owner. I sometimes perform here, see?"

Hikaru waves at the instrument still hooked over his shoulder, and Akechi has long surmised what it was.

"You play the saxophone?" Akechi asks, and Hikaru nods.

"Yep, an alto sax. I've already sworn my whole life to mastering it," Hikaru says fondly, patting the case. "It's my one and only dream to share my music to the world." There's an undeniable passion in the undertone of his voice, the tone of a person who has long decided what goals to shoot for. It's a far cry from his fellow students when they face career meetings with their teachers, who all glance at Akechi and whine how lucky he is to know what he wants to do in the future.

The obvious answer here would be…

"May I, perhaps, ask why?" Akechi asks, carefully adjusting the plastic bag that holds his CDs on the table as it tilts a little from a wobbly leg.

Hikaru's face is an open book.

"Simple! Music is the language of the soul, Goro! It's painting emotions over the canvas of time. It's creating emotion in the seconds that pass by only once, and sometimes when words can't convey what we mean, music and art can." Hikaru leans forward, and the close proximity allows Akechi to realise that his eyes weren't black – they were a very, very deep green. "Music is another form of expression, and when I contribute my notes to ring through silences I feel like I'm truly alive. Because music makes me happy, and what's the point of living a life that doesn't give me happiness?"

Akechi blinks at Hikaru – brown-haired, black-green eyes, and a sharp profile that in the slant of the light is more obviously Eurasian. He's not leaning backwards to regain the personal space lost, but Hikaru seems to make note of it as he jolts and widens his eyes.

It's with a solid blush that he leaps backwards.

"Ah, I did it again! Misono is always scolding me for coming in too strong! I should've asked you what type of colour you liked since it's our first meeting!"

"…No, it's fine, Hikaru-kun," Akechi replies calmly, eyes assessing Hikaru over the rim of a lime-green mocktail. "That was enlightening."

"Wait, really?" Hikaru blinks at him. "You still want to be my friend?"

"Sure," Akechi replies, easy, and Hikaru's beam comes back.

"Then I'll invite you next time I'm performing here! I have a great sax repertoire that'll last through the night, you know? I'm a popular regular here!"

"I'll look forward to it, Hikaru-kun."

"Ehehe," Hikaru laughs a little, that strange note of intensity gone with the wind. He turns around to look happily at the singer on the corner stage crooning out some Blues in moderately warped English, and Akechi is reassessing this Star Arcana of his.

What is the point of living a life that doesn't give me happiness?

Dreams. They're thick in Hikaru's eyes, a boy he can easily see chase unattainable stars to the end of the earth.

He thinks he might know what angle the Star Arcana is going to progress in.

Star Rank 2 – Hikaru Kondo

"Atsuzawa-san, we might need to stop our arrests," Akechi says back in their tiny office later in the week. The stacks of paper from the Tenkosai and Kazuichi Incidents still aren't fully off their desks – trials are still ongoing, and prosecutors still sometimes ask them for help or evidence. It doesn't help that they hauled in so many this time, and the justice system has always been overclocked.

Shido is slowly working up to targeting the Minister of Transport, having solidified his support throughout the past half-year. The supports he held in his last life have mostly come under him, with their various minor celebrities and side-ventures. Ichiryusai Madarame, for example, came under Shido's umbrella underneath one of his most treasured noble contacts because he had been a long-time patron. Suguru Kamoshida came under Shido's protection through Principal Kobayakawa, who was an old classmate of the SIU Director.

Little cogs, slowly clicking into place.

"Akechi, why do you say that?" Atsuzawa replies, thin fingers flipping through some case records quickly. They've been following the money for one of Shido's sidekicks, who had been running some illegal trade underneath this export business. Akechi sits in their small office – Naho is off printing something, and his eyes pause on the notes they scribbled out together. Vague plans. Should they arrest the man on the charges of Shido-relevant crimes, like the illegal trade? Or something more mundane like his recurring tax evasion? And looks up.

"I've heard rumours, Atsuzawa-san. Although we've disguised our tracks as much as we can, the mastermind is getting increasingly annoyed that his plans keep getting delayed."

Annoyed was an understatement. Shido had been snapping into his phone for more than half an hour before he read Akechi's report and praised him for a job well done, mood slightly calming from the clear lists that Akechi laid out on who was loyal and who wasn't.

Those who weren't had quickly fallen off the radar. Two by Akechi's hand, the rest through bankruptcy, collusion, scandals, medical misdiagnosis...

Atsuzawa's name has been appearing with alarming frequency, and Akechi faces his mentor with a serious look. His folds his gloved hands in front of him and increase the sincerity of his expression.

"We should stop."

Or you'll get hurt.

Atsuzawa looks at him for a moment, before sighing and pulling out a lollipop from one of his many pockets. Pulling off the wrapper and chewing on it lackadaisically, Atsuzawa taps at his computer with no energy.

"Alright kiddo. I promised I'll listen to your cues, so I'll do it. Since we have all this dirt on this guy, we'll stop after we pull this person in for tax evasion? Then we can chase that lead on that underage prostitution circle in Shinjuku. Less stress, like good old times."

Akechi breathes a sigh of relief and relaxes from his tense posture, again marvelling at how easy it was to talk to Atsuzawa.

"Thank you for listening to me, Atsuzawa-san," he just says, going back to their papers, and Atsuzawa scratches his five-o-clock shadow with a roll of his eyes.

"Yeah, yeah, you don't have to thank me every time you know. I know I'm amazing."

He accentuates that with a loud yawn and a sideways slump on his chair as he continues to lazily type out whatever report he's working on, and Akechi only just manages to alert him to sit properly when he hears Naho's heels clicking down the corridor.

"This way, Hinata-san," Akechi waves at Hinata, who is carrying Shion in a baby harness tied to her front. Nagatacho station is filled with important men and women in business attire, sharply dressed with brands more expensive than normal. There are a lot of important buildings in Nagatacho – Police Headquarters, the Diet Building, the courthouses are all here, alongside various government departments and offices.

He's popped out of Headquarters for this, as guiding and giving Hinata the paperwork shouldn't last for more than half an hour. They walk slowly down the wide streets, past the iron bars and large gardens of grand, aged buildings. On the way, Akechi is explaining each of the documents Saito handed to him yesterday, and why they're important.

Hinata follows on quite quickly, nodding and asking questions where relevant. They walk through a few side-streets to get to the smaller building where Hinata is required to apply and report to, for government payments regarding her new circumstances, and they quickly reach the entrance.

A few people are waiting inside, and Hinata stands there for a long moment, looking through the glass. The waiting seats are filled with people who look a bit more ragged than normal. A loose-haired old man, for example, sits bowed at the end of a line of couches, a man with horrifyingly large eyebags standing at the counter scribbling something on a form. On the side there's a woman who has obviously tried to dress up, her dress faded and stretched from years of washing. There's a clench in Hinata's teeth as she looks at the scene in front of her, and Akechi reads a stubborn sense of pride in the tilt of her chin.

"Is anything wrong, Osumi-san?" Akechi asks politely though he already knows the problem.

The documents in Hinata's hands' wrinkle.

"It's nothing," she replies, voice sharp and loud. Noticing her tone, she immediately takes in a deep breath, before turning around and trying again. "It's nothing, Akechi-kun. Nothing to concern yourself with…"

She trails off when she realises Shion had started hiccupping from her angry reply from before, and her face immediately twists into an interesting mix of concern and annoyance.

"No, don't cry Shion," Hinata immediately starts swaying, hand cupping the baby's head. "I know you don't like loud noises, but that wasn't even that loud, come on, mommy has to go in and give in paperwork…"

Shion continues to cry, louder and louder, and Hinata pushes Shion's face into her shoulder even as she gives into a scowl of frustration. As Shion continues to cry, her body wounds tighter like a coiled spring, and Akechi gives a sigh in his head even as he steps forward with his most pleasant smile on his face.

"Will you allow me to take Shion for a second, Osumi-san?" Akechi asks genially. "It's obviously been a long day for you, so maybe I can help by allowing you to take a breather for a minute or two."

Hinata doesn't hesitate – unstrapping Shion from her body and placing him in Akechi's arms. She takes a second to check he's holding him properly before she disappears into a narrow alleyway to the side.

Then there's a hoarse scream.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH," Akechi hears Hinata roar, before there's the sound of a few tumbling trash cans. "Why, why, why, why did it come to this?"

Each 'why' is punctuated with what sounds like a kick. Akechi is holding this baby in his arms stiffly, wondering how to reach into his pocket to tell Naho he might be late coming back when Hinata remerges, hair and face immaculate as if she didn't just have a screaming match with some trash cans.

There's a faux sense of calm when she takes Shion back, and a few moments of silence as the both of them pretend that the last few seconds didn't happen.

"…Do you wish to talk about it?" Akechi finally approaches the topic.

"No," Hinata replies, pointed and sharp, making a point to look at Akechi straight in the eyes. Hinata's gaze is fierce, simmering with something angry, but she holds Shion with softness and care. "Thank you for your concern and help, but I can handle this myself. We both know that my issue is stupid when looking at my situation as a whole."

Akechi doesn't deny it, and Hinata gives him a quick nod.

She faces the unemployment office with a determined look on her face and grits her jaw.

Hinata steps in with her head held high, marches straight towards the receptionist like she isn't trodding all over the remnants of her pride and puts down her paperwork politely. Akechi takes a moment to watch her before he takes his own leave.

Tower Rank 2 – Hinata Osumi

Time flies by in a flurry of moments. Shido's targets for the past few months don't officially have Palaces, but it's enough to hunt them down in Mementos and pretend they do. The summer heat is as unrelenting as always, pressing down in a humid pressure that makes many of his class complain that they're drowning in air. He goes on a few other television shows on Shido's behest, but July gives him a little reprieve

"How're you going with exams?" Is generally the question that he gets asked by the people he meets. Saito bakes a few extra cookies and other goods for him as an encouragement gift, Haru starts bringing study materials to their after-dinner meetings to let him quiz her on topics when they have time. Hikaru cites that he needs to desperately study for maths, while Atsuzawa gives him pity candy whenever he sees any homework scattered alongside his investigation files.

When he gets the top score, most of the people he knows are happy for him.

Back-claps, envious gazes. There are more sighs than usual this year, from people who say 'as expected of Akechi-kun'. He takes all of it with his gentlest smile and a few pretty words back, and he allows himself to feel tentatively proud. Even if he's reborn, he still had to write well in the exam on the day.

Shido merely raises an eyebrow and dismisses exam season.

"There's been increasing talk about the comas we're inducing," Shido says as he walks around the table. His father is still taller than him, and he knows it by the way he stands tall and broad when he steps close to Akechi. Akechi refuses to be intimidated, and Shido's expression flickers into approval. "Eight high-profile victims and the medical world is starting to get suspicious. I've already started to have some plants spread rumours that this might not be a sickness. A few more will allow the SIU Director to start making moves to begin an investigation team. Your internship with Atsuzawa is ending soon, yes?"

Akechi clears his throat gently.

"Yes, Shido-san," Akechi replies. "It's been nearly a year, and my internship will officially finish by the end of August. If my performance review is good, I can apply to continue into another unit for work experience or join another department entirely."

"Good. Join the new unit for the coma victims. We'll be able to start framing any obstacles in our way with the coma investigations. It'll tie them up until we find some real dirt, and they'll go to jail legitimately."

Shido laughs lowly, humour simmering underneath the surface.

"It's been a year since I met you, Akechi," he says with nonchalance. "How do you feel about our… How would you phrase it? Alliance?"

"Our partnership has been proceeding excellently," Akechi replies.

"How so?" Shido asks, eyes glittering with intent. They are fixated onto Akechi, on the words he hasn't said yet with an almost hunger. As if Shido is seeing something he cannot attain that he wishes he could. It's a strange feeling, coming from a world where his every action and word had been dismissed.

He turns on the charm a few notches higher. A bit of a businessman's grease, a smidgeon of flattery. "I would say the maintenance of our agreement has been more than satisfactory, Shido-san," Akechi replies. "We have both achieved our initial goals spectacularly."

"What if I said I wished for more participation from you, Akechi?"

Akechi tilts his head.

"What do you mean, Shido-san?"

"It means that you are many times more useful than I expected," Shido replies, "with the one drawback being your limited usefulness because of the very terms of our contract."

"I see," Akechi replies, "but I find myself at a loss. My schedule right now is unfortunately full, especially since some Palaces are very time-consuming to explore. My deepest apologies, Shido-san. Perhaps we can approach this topic a little later?"

He reads the lines in between, of course. Shido has made an offer, and they both know that he was attempting generosity. Akechi was allowed to propose his conditions first.

However, Akechi refused.

He has a feeling that he is teetering on the edge, balancing on the edge of a knife. He thinks, the more he progresses with Shido, the more he loses in other, immeasurable matters. It's that intuition that he follows as he meets Shido's eye.

Strangely, Shido still seems to keep his good humour after his refusal, dark eyes glittering as he assesses Akechi again.

"You keep," he says, voice contemplative as he weaves his fingers together and stares over them, "surprising me, Goro Akechi."

Akechi bows a little in reply while keeping his silence. Shido lets him leave with a wave of his hand. Akechi bows again, before with a swift turn of his heel he leaves the room.

So Akechi has even finished faking his wish for his approval, Shido thinks as he watches the closed door. These months of observation has truly shed light upon how Goro Akechi truly stands more a testament to Shido himself than his mother. An unflinching negotiator, intelligent, unswayed by approval and vanity and material things. Although he looks at Shido with veiled hatred, revenge seems more and more like a secondary goal. Goro Akechi is aiming for something larger, with Shido a mere stepping stone, and Shido bursts into laughter at the audacity of the thought.

It peters out soon after, and Shido adjusts his tie before stepping out of the room himself.

No-one needs to raise a dog that'll bite its own master.

Perhaps it is time to see the progress of that leash he has been preparing, all this time.

He's at school tapping a pencil silently on his notebook at the cusp of August, and in the room are a few people in the miserable throes of a mild summer cold. It's with mild amusement that Akechi watches at least three people becoming more and more annoyed at each sniff that disrupts the silence from the student's side of the room. The classroom air is muggy, and he's not in the best mood himself. Akechi is glad he's basically solidified his honour student smile on his face as he let's his mind wander, imagining clouds in a spotless blue sky.

At the beginning of August, Akechi added another small addition to Wakaba's Mementos room. There's a large tarp now that covers the majority of the back to block the mysterious hole that leads infinitely deep. Wakaba herself lies on a comfortable futon that separates her from the alien glow of Mementos room floors, and Akechi sometimes talks out loud as he crafts new freeze bombs and other such items.

"Futaba is doing well," he says sometimes because he's checked her school records and she's still attending. She hasn't regressed into becoming a hikikomori yet, and with no reports of trauma she is unlikely to ever will.

"I have a feeling that Shido is planning something," he says some other times.

"Do you think someone will one day create a cure for stupidity," he mutters bitterly on days where school requires him to do a group project, and Wakaba listens to them all by alternatively praising her daughter, badmouthing Shido, or laughing raucously at Akechi's groupwork endeavours.

The bell that indicates the end of the school period disrupts his musings, with the teacher promising to ask about their notes on the French Revolution next lesson. All the students start chattering as they pack up to leave.

"My apologies," he bows to a few honour students that approached him for tutoring. "I have a personal errand today."

"Aww, that's a shame," one of them claps a hand on his shoulder. "We were going to invite you to karaoke afterwards! Hayashi managed to invite his sister's friends along, and they look super hot, you know?"

"Perhaps next time," Akechi compromises before leaving quickly.

It's a hamper that Saito has asked him to bring to Hinata, and it wasn't as if Hinata's care centre was too far away. Ichigaya was just a few stops away, so Akechi transports the large basket down the main roads to the more aged blocks, until he's fully in the backstreets and most of what he sees is just the backs of buildings or small, suburban cafés.

To his surprise, he doesn't even need to go inside.

Hinata is sitting outside with Shion despite the heat, underneath the sparse shade of a half-dead tree. It doesn't particularly make sense to Akechi, who knows that there is air-conditioning inside.

"Hello, Osumi-san," Akechi stops in front of her. She looks at him, frown on her face that only clears slightly when she recognises him.

"Saito-san did tell me that she wanted to give me something, but I didn't expect for her to send you," she replies, words slow from languid heat. "I thought you'd be too busy."

Akechi shrugs. "I usually am. Why are you sitting here in the heat, Osumi-san?"

Hinata grimaces.

"My roommate has brought some new boyfriend over, and I felt awkward so I left. But the social workers are here today, and they're hogging a little bit of the reception area to talk out some things with another girl, so I thought fuck it, and sat outside. I think Shion's getting a little too sweaty though," Hinata smiles fondly down at the baby in her arms.

A few months has made the baby become less of a blob of fat and stretch into something vaguely more human-shaped.

"Tell Saito-san I'm fine," Hinata sighs finally, as she reaches out to take the hamper from him. Peeking through it, he sees a few of the normal things – a few jars of jam or peanuts and snacks, as well as some soft knitted toys for Shion. "I'm not that broken up over my failed job interview."

Akechi stares down at the two and how they've hogged the small spot of shade that the tree provided before he sits down with an internal sigh. The sun shines right on him, and he can feel his future regrets already as his skin starts heating up.

"I sense that you aren't speaking the whole truth, Osumi-san," Akechi says, staring at the same white patch of concrete that Hinata was.

"Yeah, because it isn't your business," Hinata says as she leans her head on the wall, closing her eyes against the summer humidity. Against her, Shion has also been lulled into sleep by the heat, sleeping cradled in the crux of her elbow, and Akechi affects some of Saito's energy.

He waits.

The buzz of cicadas are suddenly deafening, a drone that comes and goes in waves, and Akechi fights against his instinct to pull out his phone to watch a line of industrious ants instead. They're all transporting pieces of bread from who knows where all the way into a small hole in the wall, and Hinata cracks by the thirty-first ant.

"Why are you all so nosy," Hinata groans, and Akechi blinks.

That's quite a… familiar complaint.

"It's truly nothing," Hinata continues, leaning more heavily on the brick wall. Her delicate face is pink with the heat, and she wrinkles her nose at a fly that comes to hover near her face without actually swatting it. "Just, what some people say. I don't listen of course, but it takes a little time to…"

Hinata trails off, her arms tightening around the boy in her arms.

"Hey, Goro Akechi. Celebrity Prince-sama. Can you tell me your honest opinion?"

Akechi tilts his head, eyes curious as Hinata slowly finds the words.

"Do you think Shion is a mistake? Tell me straight."

Akechi blinks.

"To answer your question," Akechi replies, "I must ask you a counter-question. Osumi-san, do you think Shion is a mistake?"

Hinata looks down at Shion, and her face has an achingly familiar conflict in it. It is a love that is weighted by loss, a mother who knows that her life's potential has largely transferred to the child in her arms and doesn't know what to do with that knowledge. The burden of this wasn't a choice she was prepared for.

"I… don't know," Hinata replies, tone complicated.

Akechi draws on her his mother's thousand faces. A day of happiness, a day of alcohol. A day of grief, a day of hatred. A day of peace, a day in the baths because she couldn't stand his face, and for the first time he reaches out a hand and cups Shion's head willingly.

It reminds him of Momo's head, the fragile skull in his hands. The bumps, the thrum of warmth and blood under a veneer of skin.

"Then that is my answer."

Hinata whips her head over to him, mouth set in an unimpressed line.

"That's not an answer!"

"But it is," Akechi answers easily, his voice smooth as he retracts his hand. He holds his tone steady and direct when he faces Hinata. "Although you framed your question as if you were asking me about a social issue, that's not the true crux of your question. If you decide Shion is a mistake, then he becomes a mistake. If you decide Shion is a blessing, then he is a blessing. What I think, as an outsider, doesn't truly matter because you're his mother, Osumi-san. Your opinion is the only one that matters."

"So if I say that Shion isn't a mistake," Hinata says waveringly, Akechi finishes for her.

"Then Shion isn't a mistake."

"Oh," is Hinata's only reply. After a silence, she glances at Akechi. "You know, I didn't expect you to be nice in real life as well."

"Should I be offended?" Akechi asks back with his TV smile on his face, and Hinata puffs out a breath of air.

"No. You're a lot more reserved than when you're on television, but your ideas. They're all still here. I'm impressed, Detective Prince-kun."

Hinata shoots him a tired smile, and Akechi stands up.

"Would you like a hand up?" Akechi asks, and Hinata takes it with a sweaty grip of her own. They both head inside, basking in relief in a cold blast of air conditioning. They meander through more menial topics as they return to Hinata's room.

"I hope you get a job soon, Osumi-san," Akechi bows, and Hinata shrugs, slinging Shion to rest his head on her shoulder.

"Me too, Akechi-kun. See you someday," Hinata replies, and Akechi nods.

"Will do."

Tower Rank 3 – Hinata Osumi

At the end of August, he's transferred to the newest established Investigations Unit in the General Division for the mysterious comatose incidents. Everyone in the office believes it's a fluff investigation, and the people he knows give him a few consolatory words when they pass.

Nothing much changes, to his surprise. Since Atsuzawa gave him blanket permission to use his desk in his department whenever he needs it, that's where Akechi is usually found. It's not as if Naho ever rejects his presence anyway, glad to have company as she chatters along about Takaki's recovery, gossip around the office, sharing different tips to get the old copy machine running.

September and October pass with not much to note except meetings here and there. Somehow his timetable clashes with Hikaru terribly enough that his promised performance gets delayed, while Haru had been chained to her father's side more and more often while Kunikazu tried to find someone interested in marrying her for more personal power.

If there was any interaction to note, it was the brief celebration that Saito and Akechi held when Hinata told them that she finally landed a job.

"It's just a server at a small café," Hinata says with a smile, "but it's definitely a start. They even let me put Shion in a small cot in the corner if he stays quiet."

"Right when it's the perfect time for you to start saving up for a new place to stay," Saito grins. "Do you have any places picked from the catalogues I sent you? They're prepared for especially cheap rental."

"Yup, thanks Saito-san," Hinata replies, before jokingly looking at the non-existent line behind them. "Now are you two going to order? You'll hog up time here."

Akechi orders a coffee while Saito orders tea, and the manager of the place let Hinata sit with them for a while.

"I know of a very successful single mother, Osumi-san," Akechi said mid-conversation. "You're still very young. Your career isn't set in stone yet."

Hinata had beamed at him in a way he's never seen.

"Thanks, Akechi-kun. For that, you can earn the privilege of ordering another cup of coffee," she replied with spirits obviously lighter than any time they'd ever met her, and it was then when they finally exchanged phone numbers.

"I wonder how much money I'll make if I sell this," Hinata had jokingly pointed to his number, and Akechi gave her a pointed smile. "I was joking!" She insists, and the rest of the afternoon is peppered with Saito doting on Shion while Akechi stole some historical anecdotes on the state of Japan in the 50s for an assignment.

And on that brink of November, Shido looks at the materials in front of him and thinks.

This is enough.

Tower Rank 4 – Hinata Osumi

"I've heard some interesting news, Ai-chan," Shido says when the bodyguards unceremoniously kick her forward. She barely catches herself on her arms onto the carpet in front of a widescreen television playing some advertisements, and she glares up at the man sitting with his legs crossed, hands on his stomach. He looks just as he always had. Powerful, smug. Confident. "I hear that you're in some desperate straits lately."

"And whose fault is that," Hinata snarls, fisting the carpet under her fingers as she moves to get up before she winces from a bruise forming on her leg. She's not going to show weakness though, so she covers it up as she sits on one of his pristine couches. Expensive, buttery leather, rarely used, she can't help but note with a spark of bitter envy.

"You're going to get kicked out of that homeless shelter soon, aren't you?" Shido says with a tinge of veiled scorn, and Hinata deliberately places her hands on her lap.

"It's not a homeless shelter. It's an official home run by a non-profit organisation for young mothers," Hinata replies, and Shido's smirk doesn't falter.

"If you say so," he says slowly, like he's speaking to an especially slow toddler, and Hinata just wants to rip that expression off his face when he slides something forward.

It's a cheque. On it, in bold lettering, is an abominably high number.

Two million yen.

"It's yours if you want it," Shido says, amusement in his eyes when he notices Hinata had leaned forward unconsciously. "This will support the rent of that shoebox you chose for years with more to spare."

"What's the catch?" Hinata says suspiciously. Cash, after months of radio silence? She wasn't stupid - this wasn't child support. It was a bribe. For what remained the key question. Shido remains unphased.

"Are you really in the position to bargain right now, Ai-chan?" When Hinata stays silent, Shido laughs. "What, you think something better is going to come?" Shido mocks, uncrossing his legs as he leans forward. "What are you hoping for, hmm? Tell me, Ai-chan."

Hinata stares down at the pleats of her skirt between her fingers, and she rakes it against her fingernails when she clenches it in her hands. Do not be angry. Don't.

"My name isn't Ai-chan," she spits, "It's Hinata Osumi. My name is Hinata."

The drone of the television next to them plays rainbow light over their features. Their farce of a negotiation continues as Shido stares down at the woman sitting in front of him. Three of his bodyguards stand by the door, attentive, ignoring what was happening in front of them. They won't let her leave before he's done. "Ai-chan," Shido ignores her with his mocking smirk, "tell me who'll help you. Your parents? Your job?"

His words dig deep into something still too tender.

Her parents had taken one look at her and Shion standing in front of their house and turned away. Her mother had still looked the same – wearing the same black business skirt and formal shirt, the same pair of glasses. Perhaps she looked a little older around the eyes. At Hinata standing at the gate, she'd turned to their garage and watched the door automatically open, mouth pinched in that familiar look of disapproval. Her father had stepped out of the house a second later. After resting an eye on her for a second, he'd looked away.

Hinata stood there with her heart in her throat, familiar resentment in her lungs. The hand holding Shion's baby clothes is trembling when she first tries to voice something.

—Mom.

It came out as a cracked whisper, swallowed by the grind of the gears of the garage door.

This was stupid, Hinata bit her lip. It's so stupid that an opening garage door held so much more importance than their daughter coming home for the first time in more than a year.

"Mom," she managed to say this time. Her mother obviously heard her, with her stiffened shoulders. Her father put a supportive hand on her back, and another wave of anger she couldn't suppress washes over her.

Support, as if she was a monster. Something to fear.

"Mom."

"We have no daughter," her father said blandly as he walked into the garage and opened the car door for her mom who slipped inside without looking back. They started the car and rolled out, the tinted windows showing the both of them were staring straight with determination, and Hinata didn't even realise that her grip had become too strong until Shion started crying.

"No, hush, Shion, I'm sorry," she bounced him, humming a small tune. He's gurgling peacefully again soon enough, laying his head on her chest with trust, and Hinata can't help the familiar burn of betrayal as she turned away.

Her job had been another story, of her manager – who had been so supportive, so helpful – suddenly calling her one morning when she was tying on her apron.

"Osumi, I'm sorry," her manager had stumbled awkwardly over his words, "but someone reported you saying that you were some kind of sex worker? Um, is that true?"

Hinata clenched the apron in her hands, hesitating. Apparently, the non-answer was enough.

"Osumi, I know it's unfair, I'm so sorry, but you understand we can't have that hanging over our heads right?" Her manager sweats, looking contrite as he twisted his hands. "We're right next to a day-care, and an elementary school is right around the corner. If people get wind of this our customers will drop so much, I already have a few people in mind who will start complaining…"

She was summarily given fifteen minutes to leave. Hinata was soon left standing out on the street with the spare clothes she'd stashed in the store, staring out at the street with apologies still echoing in her ears.

Words were cheap, Hinata found herself thinking as she tried to breathe past the anger. If he was truly sorry, then he should've stuck with her, but why would he? Why risk his own job for a newly hired worker? Even though he knew that she was going to get moved out of this housing option soon, although he knew that she needed that job to pay the rent at the new place she's picked out.

That evening she folded a nappy over a cleaned Shion and stared at her son. Their temporary housing required them to share a room with others, so she always had him close because she didn't trust any of the other, similarly withdrawn, shifty-eyed people. He yawned into her shoulder, and she felt a bit of his drool when he rested his chubby cheek against her. He was sleepy, murmuring some sleepy babble, and she had wondered, a hand feather-soft over his downy hair, whether her crime of having him was really so irredeemably unforgivable.

When Hinata looks up, there's a gleam of knowing in Shido's smugness that has Hinata bristling.

"How did you know my parents and my job?"

"They're both unwilling to support you aren't they," Shido talks over her. "But I know!" He exclaims, clapping his hands. "You've found someone else, haven't you? A retired social worker, who can't even take your case properly… And Goro Akechi, the second coming of the Detective Prince himself."

The words 'Detective Prince' drip out of Shido's mouth with an extra flavour of mockery than the others and Hinata hunches against it when she imagines Saito's warm smile as she held Shion. Of Akechi's patience when he had helped her up that first time. His friendship, unassuming.

"Don't," she whispers, something clenching in her heart before she's interrupted.

"Look," Shido says, and the silence between them is filled with applause as the television cuts to a familiar face. Akechi smiles on the screen with his hair perfectly brushed, an expression slightly awkward, slightly pleased. Even so, his answers are confident when they ask him about a case or another, and Hinata watches him. Her friend.

"So is that why you posted that comment about elderly discrimination?" The interviewer was asking, and Akechi laughs in response, before delving into his reply.

"I don't think it's an issue that should just be bandied about like politics, Sagawa-san," Akechi replies, hands animated. "We're a democracy – and that means every single one of us has power. We youth should step up a little on these topics too, shouldn't we?"

Hinata stares upwards at his face and wonders if Akechi ever noticed how his smiles became less fake when they talked about social change and justice, and not about his hobbies. He's young, and Hinata's not blind. Everyone says he's handsome and he is, in a smooth, calculated sort of way. He's a scholarship student, he's a minor celebrity, he has a career rolled on the red carpet for him to tread, and he's everything Hinata's not but wishes she could be.

She would be resentful, perhaps, if he hadn't proved to be such a good person. That this image had extended to real life as well. If he hadn't been the only one who had extended her a hand when she had crouched for hours in the cold outside that venue, who had told her Shion was not a mistake as long as she didn't think that way. That the future was still full of opportunities, that she was still young.

"Why are you showing me this?" Hinata asks, and Shido smiles.

"I'm glad you asked," he replies in a deep voice that she's disgusted to think she'd once thought as slightly attractive. "Look at these."

There are photographs of their meetings. Outside the unemployment office, them walking down the street together, Shion in her arms. Akechi at the café she worked at, smiling at a cup of coffee she's handing him. Them sitting together outside her current home, Akechi sympathetically listening to her on that one, summer's day. Then they get progressively different. Photoshopped pictures of Akechi handing her money instead of her bag. There are some legitimate sexual photos of herself that she knows Shido took beforehand, but with Akechi inside them.

Hinata wants to vomit. Her hands are shaking, and she's swallowing hard, and it's with one angry arm she swipes all the photographs off the table. They flutter uselessly to the side.

"Imagine," Shido says with dark amusement, unphased by her anger. "The Second Coming of the Detective Prince, cavorting with a sex worker. Perhaps that child is even his, at merely seventeen. He's a common name in Tokyo now, did you know? Once this goes out he won't be able to go outside any more. He'll be a pariah. His internship dashed, his prospects ruined. Universities wouldn't want to take him, his school will revoke his scholarship status…"

"What is the catch?" Hinata snarls.

"All you need to do is ask a few easy questions for me, Ai-chan," Shido says. "Get their trust and find out a few facts. Tell them stories I've created to them." Shido leans forward, smile a glittering mockery of kindness. "All I want you to do is find Goro Akechi's weakness and use it against him. Tie him to you, so that he's tied to me. How simple is that?"

Hinata first instinct is to shake her head. She may be a lot of things, but she isn't a betrayer. She's never returned kindness with enmity. Hinata Osumi is a woman who gives back what's due, and it's this core that makes her first shake her head in negative.

"Oh?" Shido says. "Truly foolish. You don't understand the consequences of what you're saying right now, Ai-chan. If these photos aren't enough to persuade you, what about this?"

This time Shido slides a few reports onto the table. The text is large and easy to understand, and it's with horror that she realises they're reports from the social workers that visit the centre that she lives in. Reports that say that she abuses Shion.

"Former sex worker, can't even properly land a job, living on charity," Shido continues to say. "If I add a sex scandal with Akechi, a high schooler, and these abuse reports… don't you think there's a high chance that your son will be taken away?"

"No," Hinata croaks through brick lungs. "People will know it's a lie," she says, looking up at Shido. "The workers in my home, the people in the neighbourhood, all of them know the truth. A-and photoshop can be easily examined and found out," Hinata continues in a desperate rush, and Shido's smirk deepens.

"And do you think they'd care?" Is his callous response. "I own the media, I own the police. With a single signature, I can even own that home you live in," he says with a chuckle. "Do you think anyone will care enough about a former prostitute to stick their head into this mess?"

Hinata curls in on herself because they both know the answer.

Shido gets up and slides the two million yen cheque in front of her face.

"Is your integrity really worth the loss of your son?" Shido leans down to whisper in her ear. "Is it worth the loss of Goro Akechi's bright future as a star detective? You were once a prostitute," Shido continues, voice amused. "Do you even have any integrity?"

How dare, how dare he

Hinata claws a hand into Shido's fancy suit, thick fabric in her hands as she hauls him in.

"Coming from you? Shion's your son, and you do, do this?"

"Is there any proof he's my son?" Shido asks, utterly unphased as his eyes keep on watching her, like she's an insect, like a clown ready to dance. The bodyguards by the door reach Hinata by then, forcefully wrenching her arms away from Shido and keep on holding her in place as Shido straightens. "With how many clients you must have had, isn't it already charitable of me to pay your first few months of expenses, Ai-chan?"

"My name is Hinata!"

Hinata can't breathe through the rattle in her chest, the shaking that's overcome her body. By the time she manages to relax enough to hear over the rush of blood in her ears the television has finished cycling through advertisements and Akechi's program is running again. He's smiling at the hosts on this panel targeting youth activism, and Hinata feels the strength draining from her when she sees it. His eyes are so determined when he talks about injustice. His words spin pretty, but effective on the topics of modern heroism, of Japan's current social landscape, of what youth can do – and he's going to lose all of this because of an obsessed man and her own pride. He's going to lose the potential to change society that she sees in him, broiling underneath that veneer of polite docility. It's her own anger in a better host, in a person who can actually do something about everything they see wrong in the world, and something in her crumbles.

When she looks away, fake photographs of Shion's abuse on the reports make her choke on her next breath, and she's trying her hardest to blink back the tears. The bastard doesn't deserve the satisfaction of her tears. Her tears are for more worthy things. Greater things.

Ah, Shido thinks.

She's broken.

Shido drops the cheque onto the floor and gestures to the bodyguards telling them to let go of her. They do, and Hinata slumps. The cheque is right next to a photograph of her and Akechi sitting on the steps of the home. That moment when he told her that Shion wasn't a mistake and Hinata buries her head in her lap.

"The cheque is a one time deal, Ai-chan," Shido says to her. "If you don't accept it… well. I'm sure you understand the consequences. If you do, I don't treat my workers unfairly. I've prepared employment for you as a hotel receptionist to explain your new wealth if you do. Aren't I generous?" Shido muses. "A stable job, millions in riches, all for one measly favour."

The curve of her back is still as elegant as ever, Shido finds himself thinking. It is such a shame – she had been a good favourite to have for a few months. Even now her skin looks smooth and inviting, heaving in breaths like this.

"Of course I believe that everyone can stand up in their efforts for social change," Goro Akechi on the television laughs. "We are a conservative country, but we are also a democracy and a country with high levels of education. Japan has all it needs to be empowered for the future…"

With trembling fingers, Hinata reaches out and takes the cheque.

Shido smiles.

"A wise decision."

"You called for me, Director?" Akechi asks politely as he stands in front of the Director's large desk. Shido and the Director were the same kinds of people – the wide floor to ceiling windows to watch Tokyo from up high, the wide seats and expensive table with no viable seats for reporting

"Attend this court hearing for me," the SIU Director throws him a file the moment he gets close enough while massaging his temples, and Akechi isn't expecting much until he sees the mug shot of the defendant. His eyes widen. "Some punk got in the way of Shido-san's good time and injured him," the SIU Director tells him seriously. "Make sure that judge is doing what's he's supposed to with all the money I'm throwing him."

Akechi's bows.

"I'll be sure to attend the hearing in your stead and check the judge's loyalty, Director."

The Director grunts in reply, and Akechi's heart is flipping in his chest when he strides out from the SIU offices.

Is that why he hadn't heard from Akira for the past week? Was his phone confiscated?

Akira's face stares out at him, eyes intense underneath the fringe, and Akechi's fingers touch the face.

It's time. It's finally time.

He has to travel to a local court for Akira's trial. Out east of Tokyo City, in a larger town than the one Akira lived in, Akechi sees him for the third time in the defendant's box. Akira didn't even have a proper lawyer to stand for him as he confronts all of the judges that Shido has bought over with money with wide, bewildered eyes.

He knows how intimidating a court can be. It's a world of strict tradition, the courthouse designed to awe as a spectacle as much as for intimidation. The silence is oppressive, every dropped pen a miscalculation, every whisper heard from the other side of the room.

There is no-one on Akira's side the moment he steps out.

Akira, who loudly proclaims he's innocent to a whole panel of unsympathetic jury members.

Akira, who had unshed tears of shock in his eyes when he's nearly dragged away from the ultimate verdict.

"A year of probation."

Holding a copy of the official recordings of the whole proceeding in his hands, Akechi smiles.

The game is finally beginning.

A red eye blinks.

Indeed.

"Akechi," Naho calls suddenly, on a bright winter's morning. “Mitarai-san?” Akechi asks into the phone, but he’s already alert just by hearing the rhythm of Naho’s breath. She’s breathing in harsh breaths as if she’s running. The noise in the background isn’t the calm tones of the office, it’s the sound of traffic from the outside.

“Atsuzawa’s been shot,” Naho says, and something in Akechi’s chest freezes.

No. Breathe.

“How so?” Akechi manages to reply calmly, already walking briskly towards the exit. His attaché case in hand, he’s soon standing in front of Headquarters.

“He was lucky,” Naho says, and she enters somewhere quieter. “The shot just missed his lungs, but they say he was brought in with some severe blood loss. It took a while for the ambulance to get to where he was, even though he was just getting food for lunch at the convenience store.”

“Which hospital?”

Naho doesn’t name Takaki’s hospital – Atsuzawa was taken to a much fancier private hospital instead, and Akechi flags down a taxi. When he arrives, he opens the door to find that Atsuzawa already has a visitor.

“You idiot,” the other man was berating the still figure on the bed. “I told you to get out of Tokyo for a reason!”

When Akechi steps through the doorway, the man immediately whirls around. The face is plain, black hair and black eyes, but for some reason, the face still twinges somewhat familiar. The other man, however, obviously recognises him. His face immediately turns into a scowl.

"You dare come here," the man advances on Akechi, bunching his collar in his fist, "when this is your fault?"

"...Who are you?" Akechi says calmly, meeting the other man's eyes.

"Atsuzawa's cousin, Fusatsune," the man replies. "I'm also one of Shido's agents, and unlike you I was trying to keep my family safe."

Chapter Text

It's strangely relieving to face someone so openly hostile. Akechi finds himself in familiar territory when he faces Fusatsune, black eyes staring at Akechi in anger. He's no-where near the beanpole that Atsuzawa is, all exaggerated long lines and angular profile. Fusatsune is shorter than Akechi, barely scraping 170 centimetres, with black hair cut unassuming and a face that's rounder like an office-worker. He's exceedingly normal, despite the fact that Akechi might see a bit of Atsuzawa's face in the eyebrows, the tip of the nose.

"Safe? By being Shido's agent?" Akechi replies with a hint of incredulous disdain, ignoring the chokehold on his shirt and Fusatsune narrows his eyes.

"Yes, and it would've worked if it wasn't for you. I told him to leave for Kyoto long ago, last year even, and he told me no because he's taking care of some new upstart kid. A kid I've told him repeatedly is not what he seems."

And if it wasn't for me, Takaki would be dead and Atsuzawa a hollow shell of who he once was, Akechi can't help but think, unimpressed, staring down at this other man. What worth is his protection if it became something like that?

A bit of his derision slides onto his face, a hint of Loki's mocking smirk touching because who does he think he is? Akechi is not the type to lie down and take accusations when it doesn't serve a greater purpose and Fusatsune's hands clench tighter when he reads Akechi's expression.

It's a hospital. No-one would take the words of an adult man who was laying hands on a minor.

That's when Naho slams the door open.

"What are you doing, Fusa?!" She demands loudly, storming forward to wrench Fusatsune's hands out of Akechi's collar.

It's interesting to see how there's a shutter that immediately slams down on Fusatsune's face because when he turns towards Naho there's already a façade of calmness in his expression.

"Naho, we were just having a… disagreement."

Akechi narrows his eyes before he makes himself look slightly pitiful.

"I was just stepping through the door, Mitarai-san," he says with a plaintive note, and Naho's expression tightens as she whirls on Fusatsune.

"You're the adult here, Fusa, and you're in a hospital! Whatever disagreement you're having doesn't mean that you start throwing hands!"

Naho's breathing furiously, and when Fusatsune catches sight of Akechi's mocking smile behind Naho's back, his vision obviously tunnels.

"You little shitty two-faced—" Fusatsune starts gritting out.

"Enough." Says a raspy voice that wouldn't be out of place in a horror movie. It's the direction of where the voice comes that has all three of them freezing.

The utterly sleep-deprived eyes of Atsuzawa look at all three of them in the room looking very unimpressed, and the three of them do their own version of smoothing out skirts, looking away with a glare, or coughing lightly in a curled hand.

"I've been listening to you all for the past few minutes working up enough saliva to say something," Atsuzawa rasps out, and Naho wordlessly goes near him and pours water into a sippy cup that's placed beside him. After a few sips, Atsuzawa's voice regains a bit of its quality. "All three of you are being stupid. Fusa, you're picking a fight with a literal teen. Naho, don't yell in a hospital. Akechi, don't egg things on."

"My deepest apologies for disturbing you, Atsuzawa-san," Akechi replies first, and nope, Atsuzawa definitely noticed that the apology wasn't directed in any way towards his cousin when he shoots Akechi a wry look that held all the intonations of 'really'?

"Zane," Fusatsune starts, hands balled into fists, and Atsuzawa rolls his eyes.

"I know what you're going to say and I'm not going to hear it. Out, all of you," Atsuzawa croaks, shooing both Fusatsune and Naho out the door. "I need to talk to Akechi for a bit."

Fusatsune looked like he was going to take it with ill-grace until Naho hooks an elbow around his arm and drags him out. Akechi's left standing in the fancy hospital room stilling his emotions and adjusting his body language – was he going to go for supportive? Face Atsuzawa with a placating smile? When Atsuzawa sighs.

"C'mere kid." When Akechi looks up, Atsuzawa is patting one pale hand onto the bedding next to him, and Akechi follows. He doesn't follow the unspoken request to sit on his bed – instead, he drags a visitor's chair a little closer and settles next to where his hand is instead. When he looks up at Atsuzawa's sharp face, the edges of his expression a little softer from only just waking up from blood loss, he sees a tired lopsided smile. "Sorry, Akechi. This was my fault, not yours. Don't listen to my cousin, he's smart but also super dumb."

If he had ever been someone to cry from sadness, or panic, or fear, this might be the time to leak out a few tears under Atsuzawa's patient gaze when both their eyes trail downwards to the thick wad of bandages that peek out from the sleeve of his hospital gown.

But Akechi had never been and looking at those bandages gives him a calmness that settles over him like a blanket. Resolve. When he meets Atsuzawa's eyes next, not bothering to paste on any expression at all, Atsuzawa chuffs a harsh bark of laughter.

"I didn't realise the newest suspect in that ring of debtors was one of the names on your list until it was too late," Atsuzawa admits. "To be fair, his name was Yamamoto Tanaka, but I should've still double-checked. I guess me interrogating him was that one-too-many you warned me about. Sorry, kid. I made you worry."

Akechi clenches his hands, feeling the leather of his gloves straining against his knuckles when he watches Atsuzawa try to laugh his injury away.

"Atsuzawa-san, I think you should listen to your cousin."

Atsuzawa blinks at Akechi's words before he frowns into something more calculating.

"Why do you say that, Akechi?"

"You'll be safe in Kyoto," Akechi lays it out, looking back up at Atsuzawa's eyes. "Fusatsune was right when he said I painted much too big of a target on your shoulders. We disrupted his plans, but your name is the one that keeps being reported, the number one cause that's stopping Shido's plans."

And without the immediate need to be petty, Fusatsune hadn't been wrong.

Today, Atsuzawa was shot because of him.

"Then you'll be under the Director without me there, Akechi," is Atsuzawa's first response.

"I'll be fine," Akechi replies because he knows it's true. Shido and the SIU Director have a whole line of enquiries that they want him to make as Detective Prince, not to mention his status as a Metaverse diver. His life and reputation are, at least right now, sacrosanct. "They will not touch me, but they can, and they will try to find ways to make me more indebted."

Atsuzawa falls silent then. The other detective has never been someone ruled by pride, but it must sting some to be told by your teenage former intern that he's now become a burden.

There's no offense in Atsuzawa's expression though, as he watches Akechi. Akechi doesn't really know how to read it, and he fights the urge to fold into himself when he continues. Atsuzawa is a sentimental man, despite his harsh look, and Akechi isn't above playing dirty.

"I once contacted another to help me," Akechi admits to the hospital window and the grey, cloudy day beyond. "We were friends. She was already a target, and even though I put in my best efforts… I couldn't save her. Not entirely. I do not wish to see that happen again—"

It's a surprise that Atsuzawa's arm – long, thin and wiry – has enough strength to wind around Akechi's head and pull forward, interrupting him mid-sentence. Akechi finds himself blinking against the blue hospital shirt, forehead on a bony bit of Atsuzawa's shoulder. It's not particularly comfortable.

"No-one's blaming you, kid," Atsuzawa says, voice scratchy, and Akechi breathes in and smells the bittersweet brand of Atsuzawa's cigarettes.

"That's not the issue," Akechi says, voice now muffled with the shirt, and Atsuzawa huffs.

"Sure it isn't, you literal teenager. You shouldn't have to deal with all of this, you know? You should be chasing girls and playing around with your parent's money and thinking about what you wanna do for uni. Seventeen is supposed to be stupid, but here you are. I wanted to help you, but it just seems like I added another burden on you, huh?"

His palm is big and warm on the back of his head. Akechi distantly notes that before he sits up, careful to not jostle the other man.

"No, Atsuzawa-san," Akechi says. "You helped. And you will help even more by continuing to live."

Akechi takes a moment to fiddle with the inside seam of his jacket, the tiny hole that he now pushes a small button out. It's the button Atsuzawa gave him when they reached Rank 10, and the both of them look at the small metallic button gleaming on the smooth leather of his gloved hand. After a second Akechi puts it back into his coat, and Atsuzawa looks back at him with his lips pressed into an unhappy line.

"Kyoto," Atsuzawa says in resignation, and Akechi nods.

"The mastermind will not be bothered to reach you there. His influence there is minimal compared to Tokyo, and he is in the critical process of stabilising Tokyo as his absolute base of operations anyway," Akechi replies. There's a moment then when Atsuzawa waves a hand for the small cup of water on the side table.

"You sure you can't come with me?" Atsuzawa rasps out after a few sips.

That question hits something in his heart that he catches and carefully tucks away. It's where he keeps the night-time memory of Wakaba on the rooftop asking him to join Sojiro and Futaba for ice-cream. It's Minato, looking deep in his eyes when he asked if he wanted a second chance. It's Akira, whispering an assent to the last request of his betrayer, and Akechi's hands are still tightly clenched when he shakes his head in reply.

"It's not a boast to say I am irreplaceable in the current state of the conspiracy, Atsuzawa-san," Akechi replies. "I also have plans in place that I can only achieve in Tokyo. I appreciate the offer, but I cannot go."

Atsuzawa sighs, a deeply unhappy sound.

"I'd say call me anytime, but you're not gonna, are you?" Atsuzawa says, eyes in a resigned sort of understanding that makes Akechi wants to inexplicably look away. Instead, he bears it when Atsuzawa lays a hand on his hair and ruffles it without its usual strength. Akechi doesn't bother making the token protest when he leaves his hair messy.

He's injured, after all. Akechi shouldn't make it harder on him.

"You're probably thinking something like 'If I contact Atsuzawa-san it'll make it obvious to anyone that he's more involved than he looks' or something, right?"

"But it's not an inaccurate assumption, Atsuzawa-san," Akechi replies. "The conspiracy has a major technological company under its thumb, with major sway in information and communication technology in particular. That's without mentioning the fact my father has been taking increased interest in me lately. My paranoia is not entirely unjustified."

Atsuzawa gives him a deep look before lets his head plonk back onto his pillows.

"Akechi, call Fusa back in. Only Fusa, if Naho wants to come in too just ask for some privacy."

"Do you want me to leave as well?"

Atsuzawa rolls his eyes.

"No. Call Fusa in and stay here."

Akechi does so, but he hardly has to open the door before he sees Fusatsune standing suspiciously close to the door, his face much more complicated than before when he looks at Akechi.

"Heh, eavesdropper. I knew you wouldn't be able to resist. Come in, Fusa," Atsuzawa laughs, and Fusatsune slides past Akechi to stand next to his cousin's bed.

"What is it, Zane?"

"I'll agree to go to Kyoto on one condition." Atsuzawa points at Fusa, before pointing it to Akechi. "You take care of Akechi in my place."

Akechi blinks in surprise, from his place next to the door.

Fusa does more than blink.

"What?!" Fusa growls, face furrowing. "Okay, maybe I misjudged the kid and didn't realise he was more yours than that band of old corrupted fuckers, but that doesn't mean I'm next in line for babysitting duty!"

"Me, in Kyoto, keeping my life?" Atsuzawa says blandly. "Or you, denying help to an innocent kid, your dearest cousin dying mysteriously the next month because I stayed in Tokyo?"

"Hah! Innocent," Fusa scoffs. "You really don't have a clue, do you?" Atsuzawa seems to know what he's doing, however, as his dead fish gaze makes Fusa hunch a little before he breaks into a scowl. "Ugh, alright Zane, you owe me big. I'll take care of him. And that also means you're going to Kyoto the second you recover, you got that?"

Without waiting for Atsuzawa's reply, Fusatsune wheels around and faces Akechi.

"I'm not that great with kids," Fusa looks critically at him, "nearly grown or not. But I don't mind being a point of contact for you in Tokyo or teaching you a few tricks here and there for the not-so-above board stuff Zane will never be able to teach." When Akechi doesn't react negatively to that, he nods. "Also, we need to get on the same page regarding the conspiracy so I understand where the fuck you stand. One minute you're some loyal doggish right-hand-man, and next minute you're all buddy-buddy with my cousin?"

"Fusa," Atsuzawa warns from the bed, and Fusatsune huffs but relents.

"That's all for now. I'll keep an eye for you and try my best to keep you safe. If you end up being trustworthy, I'll even share my info. And I, Fusatsune Tsuchihashi never break my word. Deal?"

Fusatsune's expression is the very face of reluctance with a backbone of determination, and Akechi bows.

"Please take care of me, Tsuchihashi-san."

"Fuck no, call me Fusa," is Fusa's reply, and in the background with Atsuzawa's slightly approving smile comes the voice.

"That's that. Akechi, gimme your phone… Here you go. Contact me through that," Fusa gives back his phone with a contact saved underneath Hatake Tobe. "One of my other identities, no-one will give a crap. Before Zane forces me into more stuff like watching his dogs I'm going to go out. Bye."

Fusa stalks out the door, taking a moment before he exits to visibly calm himself. It's impressive how quickly his face changes from something irate to a face that seems practically scholarly as he opens to door.

"I told you, Naho, everything's fine, I was just stressed seeing Zane like that. I have to go back to work now, see you. It was lovely meeting you, Akechi-kun. Get well soon, Zane. Bye."

With that Fusa stalks off, and Atsuzawa watches his cousin leave with an amused twitch of his lips.

"Whatever his first impression was," Atsuzawa says to Akechi. "It might be cheating to tell you this, but there's no-one I trust more. He's a prickly pear to know, but he's also the type to fight tooth and nail for the things he loves. Give him a chance?"

Despite all of this unexpected drama which led him to gain an extra Arcana even, Akechi hasn't forgotten that he's visiting the hospital, Atsuzawa literally just got shot an hour or so ago, and he's convalescing.

"Of course I will, Atsuzawa-san," Akechi replies, smooth as butter. "Anyone you trust is someone I can extend my trust to as well."

'I'm also Shido's agent,' rings in Akechi's mind, and he provides Atsuzawa with the smile he reserves for the most frustrating of his tutees after school when he's explained a question four different ways and his classmate still hasn't gotten it. It's a smile that charmed his teacher to let him walk straight out of school once, in all its unassuming gentility.

Atsuzawa has that look again like he's seen right through Akechi's smooth-talking ways, but he huffs in that same way all the same.

"Good, that's all I can ask."

"And all I can ask if that you get better soon and leave for Kyoto, Atsuzawa-san."

Week after week he sees Wakaba's still Shadow lying there, pale, wavering, sometimes near transparent. She's still and cold and unmoving. He licks his lips, hesitating.

"Please live."

Atsuzawa's smile is melancholic at the request. He's always been one of the louder campaigners for Akechi's seeming youth, giving him breaks, asking about his opinions on current trends like he's a walking gospel for the 'the opinion of teenagers' and acknowledging his inexperience whenever a new case pops up. Akechi knows he's probably thinking, this shouldn't be a request someone this young should be making.

"Of course, kiddo." He replies, and Akechi nods with resolution. Stands up and walks away, and they both know that this will be the last time in many months that Akechi will see him. Akechi will not visit too often, in case Shido is watching.

Before he entirely leaves the room, Atsuzawa calls out in a low voice.

"No matter what, you can call me. Even if its years later, or you just need a place to crash or escape, find me. Got it?"

The bond thrums in Akechi's mind.

"I know, Atsuzawa-san. Thank you."

He doesn't look back as he steps out, bowing to Naho before walking down the hallway. There's something that feels like it'll spill if he pauses to discriminate what's happening, and that's just not what anyone needs right now. He fills his nose with the smell of disinfectant instead and watches harried-looking nurses in scrubs bustling in and out of rooms.

Akechi takes that feeling and does the familiar – he transforms it into anger, and from anger, hatred that it became like this, at himself for being weak, and at Shido.

"Yep, every time there's one of those coma incidents that gauge on that machine of yours shoots up," Futaba chats into her headset as her fingers fly over the keyboard. The voice-changing program makes her voice a nice deep baritone, something she'd tweaked after being told the preset voice mixer was jarring. She kinda liked sounding like a super buff macho man. "What, how'd I find the data? I'm the great Alibaba! I set up a small bug in the device so that it'll send me the data anytime, anywhere!"

After a small silence, Futaba huffs. "No, I haven't found a link yet, but I will! And stop getting distracted, you're petting your cat again, aren't you?"

The sound of meowing abruptly stops in her ears, when a calm voice replies, as matter of fact as can be.

"No, you're having auditory hallucinations."

It only takes a few more commands before Futaba is watching Yu Narukami from the camera on his laptop, and how his face is deadpan even as he slowly slides the cat off his lap onto the floor. It gives a slightly unhappy meow at being shoved from it's resting place on his lap and in reply there's an immediate, serious, slight frown on Narukami's face when he hears it. Yes, it's a beautiful and rare male calico cat, with fur that made Futaba sometimes wish she could pinch in its cheeks and fluffy in all the right ways – but did Narukami really have to treat his cat's whims and the impending Meta Incidents of Tokyo with the same level of gravity?

"I am not, I can see Cali walking out the doorway from here."

"Although I know you are a great and mighty world-class cracker, I have to inform you that stalking is not a great past-time," Narukami replies, face not twitching even a little as he looks straight at the camera. "I know I'm good-looking, but you should refrain from peeping so often. I might become shy."

…

Futaba wants to slam her head onto her keyboard.

"What do the girls on your team see in you?!" she asks her ceiling, swivelling her chair in circles that she can obviously do because these headphones are Bluetooth and don't have wires. Sojiro totally got suspicious last time when her spinning unplugged her headphones from her computer while she had set her speakers to the max. She wanted to hear her favourite seiyuu in her bones okay don't judge but then that had led to Narukami's voice broadcasting super loud and making Sojiro come up the stairs with a suspicious squint.

Sojiro had, with creases in his forehead, sat her down at the dinner table and awkwardly started talking about boys.

Futaba wanted to die.

Die.

Melt in a puddle. Run into her closet and disappear for a week. Forget Sojiro ever spouting the words, 'Uh, Futaba, have you covered… sex-ed in class yet?'

Narukami, the source of all her problems, treats her question seriously. Futaba wonders if he's trolling. If he's in Tokyo University studying something as difficult as veterinary science, then he's obviously extremely intelligent, right?

"That's an easy question to answer," Narukami answers. His voice is serious, his face as deadpan as ever. He raises a hand to adjust glasses that aren't there, and looks over the camera in a way that allows him to look slightly mysterious.

"It's because I'm cool."

"…You're really not," Futaba cuts him down.

"That's quite mean, Alibaba-san," Narukami replies, his voice a tone that showed he didn't care at all. "You've hurt my feelings. Please let me pet my cat to recover."

"Let's get back to those coma patients," Futaba replies, examining the firewalls of the government again while she's at it. "You only have to set up a few more devices, and we have most of Tokyo covered to know where Metaverse activity is happening."

"Alright," Narukami says, his demeanour shifting into one of focus that might, might, from the corner of Futaba's eye look cool if he wasn't such a massive dork the other eighty percent of the time. "To reiterate, the coma incidents aren't affecting the world on the scale of Apathy Syndrome, and more akin to our incident in Inaba. The sensors Aigis gave us to measure Metaverse activity is confirming that someone is accessing whatever form the collective unconsciousness is manifesting. The only confirmed person who can do that is the man you've told us to find – GA."

Futaba pouts, slouching in her chair. "I know it looks really bad, but I swear GA would never willingly do something like that. It's the hidden boss forcing him."

Narukami's expression is calm when he looks straight into the camera at Futaba. "I have learnt the truth is often more elusive than thought, though it is also unwise to turn away in denial."

"If GA really is willingly doing it, I'll smack him and make him stop," Futaba says then, and Narukami has a slight smile on his face.

"I'm glad you're listening to your Metanormal senpai," he says, deadpan, and Futaba whacks her table.

"Don't you hear my deep, sexy, manly voice, Narukami?! I'm a bona fide protein-fuelled macho guy with chiselled muscles and an eight-pack! I'm like, fifty years old! I'm not just your father, I'm your grandfather!"

"I have an eight-pack too," is Narukami's flat reply. "Believe me when I say I'm very strong. It makes the girls swoon."

When Futaba doesn't answer in the next five seconds because she's seriously going to hyperventilate in, she didn't know, in sheer troll energy, Narukami adds.

"Please don't shame my confidence in my masculinity."

Futaba cuts the call.

There's fear in Haru's face the next time he sees her, right before winter break. Her usually pleasant face is pinched and strained, and she holds no homework. Kunikazu places enough importance on Haru's outer appearance that she's provided with the highest quality skincare and beauty products available, so the fact that she's sporting slight eye bags is concerning.

Although she's wearing a beautiful lavender dress, she's holding no purse or handbag today. There's no sign of the homework that they chat over or any promised boxes of her hand-grown vegetables.

These are warning signs that Akechi doesn't take for granted. He straightens up, adjusting his cufflinks and making sure that all his accessories are in place.

"Akechi-kun," Haru says, and her voice quavers. She looks upset, even though she's applied an extra layer of make-up that she usually doesn't. Her lips redder, her eyeshadow a heavier shade. "We might not be able to meet any more. I'm so sorry, you were the first true friend I've had here. It's truly not your fault, it's entirely mine. Please blame me if you wish."

She bows, and Akechi steps forward, concern not entirely feigned.

"Haru-san, is there something I can help with—"

"Step back," says a voice in a tone Akechi knows too well. It's the condescension of someone who sees themselves above others, and he looks to the right to see a young man in a white suit flanked by two bodyguards. He's holding a glass of champagne in hand, face arrogant as he looked down his nose at Akechi in front of him. "She's telling you that she doesn't want you around anymore."

Haru bites her lip as she looks down at the ground. Her fists are clenched, but she doesn't resist when Sugimura places a hand around her shoulders and pulls her close.

"Who even are you to become friends with the prime lady of Okumura Foods?" The tall man sneers, taking a sip of his champagne.

Akechi isn't cowed, and bows, perfectly polite.

"My name is Goro Akechi. It's nice to meet you."

When he stands straight, he's obviously not what Sugimura expects. It's easy to know what type of person Sugimura is – the type to enjoy trampling on the weak, announcing his wealth and status to gain other's respect and validation. Akechi's seen him before, sticking around members who are all a little shorter than him, a little uglier, poorer, while he has a beautiful woman on his arm paid to only stare at him.

Akechi objectively knows he is good looking – his mother's delicate features, good self-care and well-fitted clothing make heads turn. He's confident, polite, and he doesn't care to provide any flaws for Sugimura's perusal when he provides his best bland politician's smile. By anyone's vote of confidence, Akechi knows that he ranks higher in all the ways that Sugimura cares for.

Sugimura isn't pleased, mouth pinching, and Akechi laughs lightly.

"And may I have the pleasure of your acquaintance?"

"I'm Sugimura, and that's all you need to know," Sugimura sneers. "I'm also this lovely little lady's fiancé, and after a brief talk, we've agreed that her private little chats with another man are highly unbecoming. Isn't that right, Haru-chan?" Sugimura bends down to talk in Haru's ear, and she barely hides a flinch.

That's right, Akechi thinks. He hadn't known exactly when Haru gained a fiancé, but it had been cursorily explained to him that the Phantom Thieves had gone after Kunikazu Okumura instigated not because of his terrible WHS policies, but because Haru needed to escape from her fiancé.

It had been such a minor detail that he hadn't placed it into importance until now.

"Haru-san?" Akechi turns to Haru, and he doesn't know what he expects. Something more than the downtrodden look of resignation maybe. Something more akin to Noir underneath her musketeer's hat, a poorly hidden grin of satisfaction when she gunned down her enemies.

"Yes," she replies reluctantly, "Sugimura-san is my fiancé now, Akechi-kun. Both he and my father have told me that I shouldn't do anything that may cause unsavoury rumours to happen, for me or… for you."

You'd just go with this? Something in Akechi snarls. You're not going to step up and fight for what you want? You're going to lay down and take it like a pathetic, beaten dog?

Haru Okumura stands silently underneath the arm of her newly acquired fiancé, eyes to the floor, fists still clenched and shaking and Akechi is surprisingly disappointed.

The Phantom Thieves were good for her. Had given her a way to not disappoint her father, had fanned her flames of rebellion.

But here, she didn't have that. Unpleasant marriage is something she's willing to accept, so accept it she does. To do so, she is going to toss him away.

Haru doesn't meet his eyes when Akechi laughs. He smothers the sting with pleasantry.

"I would never wish to intrude on the affairs of a couple," Akechi says, tilting his head and letting his voice shade back into the sweet tones that he'd dropped with Haru for the past few months. She recognises the shift and Haru tenses, and she blinks rapidly. Only last week she had been excited, talking about inviting Akechi to Shujin's school festival this year, saying it was a dream of hers to attend with friends. "It was lovely to be your friend, Haru-san," and Akechi watches her flinch with a little satisfaction. "I'll take my leave."

He passes Sugimura, and when he does he pauses.

"One last thing," he says, and he places his hand over Sugimura's on Haru's arm. And with a strength that obviously surprises Sugimura, with how his eyes widen over Akechi's feigned gentility, the hand slides upwards to cup Haru's shoulder so that his fingers weren't skimming her chest. "Don't want any unsavoury rumours now, do we, Sugimura-san?"

His smile is a knife's edge.

Before the man could spout something – considering his type, probably about how much money he has, or who his father was – Akechi swiftly left the small alcove where he had been waiting.

No reason to stay late at these dinners any more, Akechi sighs as he returns to Shido's secondary circle of goons, dismissing himself with another round of fake laughter and polite civilities.

Empress Rank 3 - Haru Okumura

Wednesday. Sunny's Karaoke. Booth 15. Shinjuku Red Light District. 7:15PM.

That's all Hatake Tobe sends as a text, and after reading it the message automatically deletes itself. Akechi arrives approximately then, changed out of his school uniform and wearing a horrible knitted sweater that draws attention to all the parts of Akechi that's not Detective Prince material.

He materialises out of the Metaverse just in time to see Fusa himself entering the Karaoke, looking like any other mild Japanese man as he talks to the staff.

After a few minutes, Akechi follows. He excuses himself with an 'I'm with a friend. Booth 15?' and follows the staff member that leads him there after he pays.

Fusa greets him with a large, welcoming smile and the staff nod him in before closing the door tightly behind them. Everything is suddenly muffled silence, the unfortunate screeching voice of a woman in the room next to them trying to reach notes too high for her voice, and Fusa's grin drops like a tonne of rocks.

"Zane's out of Tokyo now," is the first thing he says, and Akechi accepts that with a swallow and a small nod as he sits down. "Organisational Crime Unit has been mostly disbanded. Zane was running a skeleton crew here anyway, he was clinging on in sheer stubbornness for the past year."

"If you're here to blame me, I will leave in advance," Akechi says, and Fusa snorts.

"Believe me, you'll know if I was blaming you. No, I'm here to talk things out like we promised. I can't trust you like Zane does until I do. If I find your answers satisfactory, I swear I'll tell you my side of the story."

Fusa's eyes are direct and strong. Atsuzawa looked strong on the outside but was a mild, lazy noodle on the inside. It seems like Fusa was the opposite – a person more like Akechi, a nice façade on the outside all jagged edges underneath.

"I'm not stupid," Fusa has a lot of energy when he sits down, hands twitching feet tapping. "There's something between you and Shido, and I need to know what."

Fusa in a public space had seemed the perfect, genial Japanese man, slightly subservient with words that were filled with vague, unspecified promises to any topic. In private, he's a tensed up ball of emotion. There's an explosiveness underneath his skin, and his expression is always somewhat set in some sort of scowl.

Akechi hesitates. Not even Atsuzawa directly knew that Shido was his father.

The other man is looking vaguely irritated when he pulls a piece of paper from the bag he held and put it on the small table in the middle.

"Okay, I'll give you one more chance. This is why I need to know why you're one of the very, very few people that Shido lets into his apartment, other than his various lady hoes. There are exactly ten people that Shido lets in," Fusa draws a quick diagram. "One is his housekeeper, and he's had her since his dad's era. She's paid well, comes from Thailand, is an old close-mouthed bugger that doesn't know Japanese well. Three are bodyguards, and they're loyal to Shido because he's nurtured them like his own babies. He gives them high salaries, free training, food, and even arranged marriages for some of them. That's how far up his butthole these bodyguards are, so they're safe."

Fusa lists them all out on the left under STAFF, before moving on. Under PARTNERS, he quickly sketches three names Akechi knows well. The IT President, the President of a TV Station, his most treasured noble contact.

"These three are in high cahoots, and if one falls a whole stack of people fall with them, so Shido likes entertaining these three once in a while," Fusa says before moving on.

Fusa is deliberately making eye contact with Akechi when he writes the next subsection.

AGENTS

"There's me," Fusa says, writing his name down. Fusatsune Tsuchihashi. "I'm the highest guy Shido managed to get under our government's official intelligence agency. I manage internal intelligence on sensitive topics I can't tell you about, and I train spies on the side. Shido roped me in after he threatened my family, and he kept his promise on not touching them until you came along."

Akechi blinks, letting the resentful tone wash over him. Was that why Shido never touched Atsuzawa's family in the past? Not because they were intimidating?

"Next is this guy. He's an A-Grade asshole, and he lurks in the underground. He's an intelligence worker, lurks in the yakuza and the gangs. I tell my spies to contact him sparingly because even I think he's disgusting, and I've seen a lot in my work. Everyone just calls him by his title 'Danna'."

"And out of all of these impressive people," Fusa says, eyeing him. "There's you. Random fifteen-year-old high-schooler. Calls you up near every week until it stops, and even then any report that has your name holds twice as much attention from him than anyone else's. A few months later, cognitive psience researchers – a field Shido has been splurging money on for years, drop and disappear like flies. Wakaba Ishikki, a woman that Shido miraculously bothers respecting, goes into a coma. And all that attention is now on you."

Fusa scowls.

"And guess what? Suddenly Shido is culling his herd – information from who-knows-where cutting some of my sources of insider info. Suddenly major opponents are dropping into unexplained comas that, oh wait, have no known source. It's like their cognition suddenly shut down. And Shido suddenly pays attention to you a lot more. See my point?"

Fusa's relentless train of logic stops, and he's now staring at Akechi. His focus is intense, like a hawk staring at something in the distance that even their formidable eyesight couldn't identify if it was potential prey or danger.

Akechi sighs and breathes in the smell of cheap cleaner. The woman from next door hasn't finished screeching.

"Shido's my father."

Fusa's eyes widen.

"Yes, I've achieved what the cognitive pscientists were trying to do. I cause the comas, but that was my joint effort with Wakaba Ishikki. She developed a chemical formula that I can inject into their cognitive equivalent that makes them go into a coma and out of Shido's way so I could avoid murder on my hands. I also have a coma reawakening agent that I'm planning to use when I find enough on Shido to indict him under law."

Akechi says this candidly, while Fusa has quickly overcome his surprise.

"Show me proof," Fusa demands, and Akechi complies.

He stays half a minute in a darker, lifeless and silent version of the karaoke room before returning, right where he'd been. When he rematerializes, Fusa had just closed the door and turned back at him.

"I just went to a cognitive version of our world," Akechi explains. "In there are cognitive versions of each of us, including you. If I kill that Shadow, the person dies in real life as well. Shido doesn't know that – he thinks I can only make them go comatose. Furthermore, Shadows don't lie, so if there's any unexplainable information Shido knows, it's because of that."

Fusa swallows.

"Does Zane know?"

"No," Akechi replies, dry. "For one, Atsuzawa-san was already at high risk for being my mentor. Second, he didn't indicate any knowledge or background in cognitive psience, so I just told him I was sucked into the conspiracy because of my father."

"Fuck," Fusa swears, sitting down heavily on a worn leather chair and raking his fingers through his black hair. "No-one else can do what you do, obviously or Shido wouldn't care so much. That's why you're irreplaceable."

Hardly.

"You want to take down Shido?" Fusa says after he'd thought it through, looking up at Akechi. "But he's your father?"

"He killed my mother."

"Ah," Fusa grimaces. "That'll do. He's the sort of guy who probably thinks a condom is a finger puppet. So Shido is tying you down with your emancipation, right? I processed those papers. What else? Wealth? Be careful, he'll try for more soon if it's just that. I'd know," Fusa says darkly, as he folds the paper on the table and places it back into his bag.

"Okay, I'll take you on," Fusa says, eyeing Akechi up and down. "I'll train you up a bit too since I'm at it. Get you a fake ID so you can go places without Shido tracking you. Did you know that Shido is still watching you?"

"It would be surprising if he didn't," Akechi replies. "He's afraid I'll turn my powers on him."

"Can you neck him?" Fusa asks with a tone of unholy interest, and Akechi shakes his head. He'd already checked Shido's Palace – an alarming amount of security checks and alarms were already in place, not discounting the fact that currently, no-one held an invite that led higher into the Palace.

"Then I'll promise you this, right now. I can guarantee you one day out of every week that you'll be free to do whatever you want. Got it? I'm a busy guy but tell me when you want a free day and I'll arrange it. Half of your surveillance cycle comes from me."

"That's rather generous of you, Fusa-san," Akechi says with genuine surprise, and Fusa snorts in derision.

"I'm not a man afraid to admit his mistakes. I misjudged you. Should've known, Zane always had a good eye for this sort of thing. But do I trust you? Not really. That'll be proved later on."

There's determination in Fusa's eye when he forgoes a bow and sticks out a hand to Akechi. When he shakes it, it's a strong and warm handshake, and Fusa nods at him sharply before leaving the karaoke room.

Hanged Man Rank 2 – Fusatsune Tsuchihashi

December is greeted with a horrific traffic accident, as a bus careens into an alleyway right next to a restaurant full of people eating lunch. The driver was comatose on the scene, with another two near-fatal injuries and near twenty something more wounded. Recovery would be slow.

January welcomes a New Year that had a train driver fall asleep, stepping on the accelerator before it violently derailed. Thankfully it was late at night, and everyone had minor injuries with no fatalities, even though infrastructure was ruined and required a few million in repair costs.

"There is growing dissatisfaction towards the Transport Minister, who has repeatedly told the media that investigations are ongoing. Little is known about the actual investigative processes however, and relatives of the victims are demanding more transparency for justice to be served." The news reporter states.

Akechi looks at these and asks himself, quietly, if this will one day make him a murderer anyway.

Something stirs in his mind.

Is this all your determination for Justice amounts to?

It's a voice that, when Akechi reaches back, is dormant again, but when Akechi examines Morrigan and Robin, he feels that there's… another edge.

Perhaps. Another spark.

He gets a phone call when the clouds are still filled with ice and snow, and he doesn't hesitate to pick it up when he sees it's from Akira. His breath fogs as he walks down the streets of Tokyo with Akira's voice in his ear. There's a hard, near unfeeling edge that bleeds into his voice that he has never heard from Akira, who he knows tends to like softer topics like flowers and likes to makes every word count. Akechi listens to his story after a few pleasantries – of the woman's attack, of the courthouse trial, of being ignored by his parents ever since. His schoolmates have found out about the trial and distanced themselves. The bakery he worked at has stopped giving him shifts. He explains that his parents took away his phone for a while, and he only recently got it back.

"Someone in Tokyo is going to take me in. In Yongen-Jaya," Akira says as he's walking through the bare trees of Inoshikara. It's laden with lights again, and with the world bleeding into night-time they flicker on, but Akechi hardly takes in the sight when Akira's voice has become dry from talking so long. Akira doesn't stop, however. From the sounds, it seems like Akira is sitting outside anyway, alone as always.

Perhaps he was sitting on that stone bench on the hill looking over the hometown, even though it's dark.

"I'll be there on April the 9th," Akira finishes and he says nothing more.

Akechi hums and looks up at the night sky. No stars.

"I live near Shibuya," Akechi volunteers, because he reads between the lines and he hears Akira's hurt, from the abandonment from his parents, from the silence of the woman, from his community that knew him for years distancing him as a violent assaulter. "If you tell me when, I'll meet you there on the day, Kurusu-kun."

"You don't mind?" Akira asks as a flat, tinny voice from his phone, a forced casual.

"No," Akechi replies firmly. "We're friends, aren't we?"

There's a long, long breath of silence.

"Thank you, Akechi."

The replying voice is small. Like Akechi had punched the air out of his lungs.

"There's nothing to thank," Akechi replies, and they go into a few more pleasantries before Akira cuts the call first.

Akechi immediately texts Fusa.

[Hatake, I need the 9th of April to be surveillance-free.]

[You want me to fake work on a Saturday? Ughh, fine.]

Something different happens when he's heading back home from school early in their third term in February. Despite the torrential rain the voices on the street are loud, and there's angry yelling in front of him as he walks from Shibuya station towards his dorm. As usual, the pedestrians on Tokyo streets prefer not to get wrapped up in drama, and the whole debacle is avoided like the parting of the Red Sea.

It makes it easier to see what's going on – and it piques Akechi's interest when he sees the familiar red and black checkers of Shujin's uniform pants, enough so that he doesn't join the stream of people hurrying along, pretending not to see what's happening.

A boy is on the ground, but the pouring rain that hadn't stopped all day prevents Akechi from seeing more from this distance, so he draws closer.

Oh. It's just bullying.

"It's all your fault anyway, Track Traitor," one of the boys standing around the fallen one hiss, kicking away a bag into the gutter and out of reach, before he and the other three guys surrounding the fallen boy stomp away.

Akechi's half passed the boy by now, not particularly wanting to involve himself in this blatant scene of harassment just like everyone else when he overhears the boy muttering to himself.

"Yeah, stuff it, let it go, Ryuji. They just had a bad day, that's all. This ain't worth gettin' angry over. Breathe, just like ma told ya to."

Akechi's brain stops. Rewinds. Replays. His eyes slide over to assess the boy again – spiky blond hair, young face, knee in a supportive brace, but unmistakably now Ryuji Sakamoto, and without a falter his feet change direction. He stops in front of the gutter where the kicked bag landed, picking it up from the drain water and holding it up so some new rain could clean it up a bit. Then he goes to the crumpled boy and stands over him, dipping his umbrella to cover him too.

Ryuji startles when he realises he's being shielded from the rain, glancing up to see Akechi's friendliest smile, umbrella in one hand and his bag in the other.

"I thought you might need a hand," Akechi says, offering the soaked bag. Ryuji's mouth opens and closes a little, flabbergasted.

"Oh, uh, thanks dude," Ryuji splutters now, as eloquent as ever, reaching out for the strap of his bag and grimacing when he feels how soaked he is. He nearly stumbles when he gets up, one of his knees giving way before he recovers. Akechi keeps the umbrella over him as he does so, and when Ryuji straightens up his slouch makes him only reach up to Akechi's ear. "Oh man, I'm soaked! And they took my umbrella!"

So they did. Akechi hums a little in thought, putting a small frown on his face.

"Are you alright? It seems like they shoved you quite hard," Akechi says now, concern heavy in his tone. "Your knee seems injured, and it's raining heavily."

"I'm fine, don't worry! I'm quite hardy, y'know? You've done enough already for me, thanks. You're the nicest person I've met all day, hah," Ryuji Sakamoto grins up at him like he's never done before. He also doesn't seem to recognise him as the Detective Prince, but Ryuji had never seemed the type to watch morning TV shows or been interested in the news.

"If you don't mind, I have a spare umbrella," Akechi offers one that one of the girls in the class had slipped into his locker. It's a decent umbrella, dark-coloured and sturdy. "Do you want it?"

Ryuji's eyes are wide as he looks at Akechi. "Dude, you really won't mind? I'm just a rando on the street, y'know?"

"I was once bullied myself, and it's a very unpleasant experience," Akechi says conversationally. "I truly wouldn't mind helping you, especially if it's something as simple giving you an extra umbrella."

Ryuji blinks. "O-oh, uh. Thanks! Don't mind if I do then. I'm Ryuji, Ryuji Sakamoto! Nice to meet ya!"

Handing over the umbrella, Akechi starts walking forward. When the umbrella shoots open, Ryuji follows, and he makes sure to switch to a milder smile when he says, "I'm Goro Akechi, Sakamoto-kun. It's nice to meet you too."

Ryuji immediately makes a face. "Ew, Sakamoto-kun. No-one calls me that except the teachers. Just call me Ryuji, Akechi. Wait, you good with me callin' you Akechi? You look like a senior." Ryuji chatters inanely before peering at him with round eyes.

How strange, to see that face without any belligerence or hostility.

"Akechi's fine, Ryuji-kun."

"Dude, drop the 'kun'!"

Akechi smiles. "Ryuji-kun," he insists, "this is my turn," he waves to a smaller side street. "It was nice meeting you. I hope you have fewer run-ins with bullies next time."

"You're one of those stubborn bastards, I see," Ryuji replies, smile all teeth and crinkled eyes. "Nah, don't worry 'bout me. Those guys aren't usually like that, something just came up today that's all. There's this huge jerk at school and they just took advantage when they saw I slipped in the rain. Thanks for the umbrella, Akechi. Reminded me that the whole world's not entirely a pile of shit."

"Keep it," Akechi says, the pleasant smile still stuck on his face as he sketches a short bow. "You lost yours, and I really don't need another one. Goodbye."

"Bye, then! Hopefully we'll pass each other at the station or something," Ryuji waves as he leaves, and Akechi walks back to his own dorm with more than a little surprise.

A pleasant surprise though, he thinks when he is back safely in his dorm room that Fusa had guaranteed didn't have cameras and checks on his cactus.

As hardy as always.

Police Headquarters without Atsuzawa and Takaki feels much less welcoming than before. Since the unit disbanded, Naho had been transferred to another division and there's an uncomfortable feeling when he looks at their closed office, emptied of any personal effects.

If there was one positive about the initiative he'd had regarding his detective life is that the whole building seems to accept him more. He isn't just an upstart high schooler who solved a few cases – he was Atsuzawa's protégé, someone who helped with the Yokohama Prison and Tenkosai incidents, and a dozen reported other cases as well.

The detectives didn't dismiss his thoughts outright, at least. Even though everyone thought he was sitting on a fluff investigation with the comas, if he did happen over cases and had thoughts, more than a few would lend an ear.

It was during this time that he meets Sae again. He finds her in the break room again, typing quickly on her laptop and Akechi sits at the table next to her.

It takes a few minutes for her to acknowledge him, but when she does she nods with a professional smile.

"Nice to see you again, Akechi-kun. I've been hearing many impressive reports about you."

"I'm sure they were exaggerated, Sae-san. I'm also glad to see you. How are your cases?"

Sae's smile grows a little wider. "They're going well. I think you'd be glad to know that the evidence you pointed out to me last time was the crucial point to landing the case. Thank you again."

Akechi laughs a little, settling into the familiar straight turns of Sae's style of conversation.

"It's more than alright. As I said before, I'm more than happy to facilitate the progression of justice."

"Then may I trouble you with a few questions?" Sae asks, regard as warm as it'll ever get, and Akechi nods.

"Of course."

It doesn't lead to a rank up in their Arcana, but it does provide stimulating discussion over three different precedents that all have potential nuances on the case that Sae is currently researching for. It's pleasant, to throw ideas back and forth with Sae again and re-establishing that camaraderie before her heart was too distorted by pressure.

"See you around, Akechi-kun," Sae doesn't wave or bow, but dips her head slightly. Akechi picks up his attaché case and bows properly, with respect to her status.

"It was my pleasure to assist today, Sae-san. See you again."

April comes quickly – Hikaru left with his family for an overseas trip throughout the winter holidays, while Hinata was strangely resistant when he tried approaching her.

"It's j-just my new job," she insisted on the phone. "I'm a hotel receptionist now, and I also have to take care of Shion. I'll be the one to invite you, okay?"

"It's alright, Hinata-san," Akechi had replied. "I understand how stressful juggling a job and a child must be. Remember that Saito and I are here to help if you wish it."

Hinata hiccupped before laughing.

"Sorry, Akechi-kun. I was watching a sad animal video before you called. Thanks for reminding me, I'll definitely call you soon, okay? Just, just later. I need a little more time to settle."

He'd agreed easily enough, and wiled the time away by reading through the rest of the few books he'd collected, here and there. Some feature articles also popped onto his shelves, featuring spots in Tokyo such as the planetarium and the aquarium, and it's honestly a little refreshing to enjoy what a few hours with a book can provide.

It's the ninth soon enough, and he's standing in front of the ticket gates in Shibuya station, dressed casually in a grey shirt and black pants. The news station is blaring news about another horrific traffic incident, where a bus driver drove down the opposite side of the road, and he closes his ears to it as he looks in anticipation for a certain head of curly hair.

When Akira walks through the gates, Akechi waves.

"Kurusu-kun!" He smiles, and once he notices Akechi standing by the gates Akira beelines towards him. "You need glasses?" Akechi asks, furrowing his eyebrows through the nostalgia at seeing the black-rimmed frames when he gets close enough. Akira shrugs.

"Fake. People told me that my staring is… uncomfortable."

Akira's hands grip the strap of his bag a little more tightly, telling Akechi it was one of the more recent developments in his life, and Akechi sighs.

"Kurusu-kun—"

"Akira."

Those frames did nothing to lessen the intensity of Akira's gaze, Akechi thinks to himself, even as he acquiesced to the request with grace.

"Akira-kun, you don't need to be so kind to cater to the opinions of those who judge you for something you didn't do," he says as he leads Akira out into the station courtyard, Buchiko's statue as surrounded by tourists as always. He walks slowly, in deference to Akira's widened eyes at the sheer amount of people populating the area, rushing and pressing and hurrying in the hundreds. It's far cry from the countryside idyll Akira has been living in. There's even a very long moment when Akira freezes, eyes staring across the crossing like he's seen a ghost.

It's strange, to see Akira in Tokyo, wearing his glasses, in a Shujin uniform and be so… uncertain.

"Are you alright, Akira-kun?"

"Did you see that?" Akira asks, and when Akechi genuinely frowns in concern he shakes his head. "Nothing. I'm probably just tired."

When they're on the train from Shibuya to Yongen-Jaya, Akechi's standing in a corner near the door while Akira leans on the door straight, facing him. The sunlight shines through his irises, lighting Akira's black eyes into a streaked dark brown. There's something unmistakeably fond in that expression, and Akechi swallows.

"Thanks. For coming. I know you're busy."

Akechi fakes a small cough. "It's no big deal, Akira-kun. And I even have to leave you at Yongen-Jaya station because I have an errand to do, so I'm not doing a very good job as an escort, truly."

Akira tilts his head and leans forward.

"You're the first person to smile at me for the past four months," Akira says, voice nonchalant in the worst way. "It's a big deal to me, Detective Prince-kun."

Akira hasn't smiled even once since he saw him. Akechi hadn't realised how rarely Akira handed out his smiles until now. They had been easy to grasp before the trial.

"At least Tokyo is a new start," Akechi replies with careful optimism, reaching out to push Akira back to standing straight. "Perhaps you may find trustworthy friends here."

Ryuji Sakamoto, for one. The Phantom Thieves had never explained to him when exactly they had stumbled over Kamoshida's Palace and began it all, but it must be soon.

"I already have one in front of me," Akira says straight-faced, watching as Akechi blinks his eyes twice at the bald admission before the tips of his ears turn slightly red as his gaze darts away.

"Ah, well," his friend murmurs, like he genuinely doesn't understand how relieving it was to see one smiling, friendly face in a whole sea of strangers. After months of a cold, silent home, of whispers and glances from his peers. Dinners where he sat in front of the television as his only company, eating leftovers while processing another day of absolutely nothing.

Akira was hurt, but it wasn't because of the social judgment. Whispers had always done less to him than many, and rumours would go in one ear and fly out the other.

No, the hurt had come from a crushed expectation he had. Of, perhaps, goodness. In his parents, his acquaintances, the aunties who waved at him before, the justice system he lived under, his belief that at least one of these groups of people would stand up and listen and realise he wasn't a demon spawning in their backyard threatening to steal their virtuous, peaceful lives.

Goro Akechi was the only one who sat through his explanation, words pouring out of him like never before. Words he had no chance to say, to people who hardly glanced at him.

Two hours. He'd checked the time stamp afterwards to see how long the call went for, and Akira had talked for two hours, toes freezing in the damp, mountain air, shivering in a too-thin jacket, still infinitely better than the whole town of betrayed trust that spread in yellow squares beneath his feet.

At the end of all that, Goro had said.

"We're friends, aren't we?"

Akira thought himself stronger than that. He'd never needed friends his whole school life, and the acquaintances he did make always told him he was 'weird' or 'intense' or 'awkward', sticking with him only for the high grades.

After that sentence, Akira had found himself wishing Goro was there so he could see just how much he needed that sentence after all.

Goro Akechi had thick lashes on elegant features, a smile that Akira knew was calculated more than most. He deals with sincerity badly and sometimes looked at Akira like he was looking at someone else.

When Akira leans forward again, a little bit of some former mischief curling his smile, he thinks.

It's alright.

He has time now, to unravel it all. Even if Tokyo turns out to be an utter disappointment because he, admittedly, has low, low expectations of Shujin being a place where he'd find those 'trustworthy friends' (rumours always had a way of escaping). Akira thinks, watching Goro meet his eyes and wrinkle his eyebrows in genuine confusion like Akira was an enigma instead of some mess of a teen on probation.

At least Goro Akechi is here.

Two days later he's running for his life after talking to his inner psyche of rebellion– which, apparently, is a black-winged, red-suited devil with a very large top hat – with his blond delinquent classmate and a talking cat whose voice is very, very familiar. His school has turned into some kind of weird torture dungeon, which bodes ominously really, about what sort of life he's going to begin here. The sky has turned red, he's going to be late, and he has apparently weird cognitive power coursing through his veins and he asks himself what even is his life.

Chapter Text

They're lounging around in an apartment that Akira hasn't seen before, though the view peeking through the cracked curtains show the skylines of Tokyo that he's seen for a few days now. He's not familiar enough yet with Tokyo to know exactly where he is just by the shapes of whatever buildings pop out on the horizon, but his dream only takes a glance before looking back to the TV screen anyway.

It's some fighting game, the box at the bottom of the television loudly proclaiming it's TEGGEN 10, even though he knows TEGGEN 8 only came out half a year ago.

His thumbs fly fast and precise, and his white-robed muscled guy beat down the ninja looking person quickly. When the announcer shouts 'VICTORY!' the person behind him groans.

"Again? Akira, dude, that's like the thirty-sixth win in a row. Can't you give a bro a break?"

There's a cocky smirk pulling at his lips as his vision slides towards the man next to him.

"What, can't beat me at my best?"

Ryuji Sakamoto – it's undeniably him, even with black hair that's cropped short to the scalp and features that have grown fully into his jawline, stray stubble from lazy shaving speckled here and there – rolls his eyes at him.

"Bro, no-one can beat you at your best. Though hey, it's not as if I don't understand why you're in a good mood. Congrats on your graduation! Just Masters to go now, yeah?"

The smirk pulling on his lips soften into a smile. Ryuji replies with a large beam that lights up his whole face and a back clap.

"Yeah," Akira replies shortly, choosing his next fighter, some new character he's never seen before with green skin. Ryuji does the same, and the next few seconds are filled with the sounds of frantic button-pressing. They both watch as Ryuji's health bar plummets until the announcer shouts 'VICTORY!' again, the green-skinned guy posing victoriously over the ninja and Ryuji groans.

"Ugh, I give up," he says, flopping backwards onto his bed. The controller lands on a nearby pillow. "You're too good, man. How're you so good when you're lurking in your greenhouse all the time?"

The smile on Akira's face hasn't faded even as he also puts his controller onto the floor.

"Some people are just born with higher proficiency," he says back before the unnatural pause in between his expected reply has Akira turning his head to his friend, only to see that Ryuji's face looked conflicted. The smile drops, as he elbows Ryuji's knee. "What's wrong?"

"Gaaah!" Ryuji suddenly screams, and it's only his years and years of his teen years ingraining his 'I-don't-care' face that leads him to only blink when his friend does not only scream, but also flail, shoot upwards, kick his blanket off the bed, and dive back into bed face-first.

"…Someone's energetic today," Akira says through a face full of blanket. It slowly drips off his head.

"Ugh, ignore me. I'm just being stupid," Ryuji groans.

Akira neatly side-steps all the dumb jokes that their friend group usually shoots him and just raises an eyebrow at his friend, who is now sprawled faced towards the wall and has an energy of miserable distress that always gives him an unignorable itch to try fix the cause. Bunching that blanket into a lump on his legs, Akira rests an elbow on the whole mess and uses his other hand to poke his friend's back.

Ryuji rolls over and sighs when he sees Akira's eyes trained to him, head tilted and face serious.

"No, really bro. It's stupid."

In the silence that follows Ryuji can clearly read Akira's replying expression, which is 'what's stupid isn't the thing that's causing you distress, but your insistence on not sharing something you're obviously struggling with to a friend who has been through with you thick and thin and has never truly judged you once'.

The good thing about being best friends is one, Ryuji can read that off his expression in the first place, and two, he also knows that such a sentiment requires too many words and Akira will never say it out loud.

"Alright," Ryuji gives in. "Now don't get me wrong, I'm truly, really happy for you. Okay? Like, getting your honours stuff all up top is really cool. It's just that it got me thinking on, y'know, where I was going."

There's understanding then, in a quiet shift of his mind, and Ryuji nods.

"I know I've been mentioning this for the past few years and not a lotta people are asking about that now since I've got my part-time at the sports shop and started that community college study thing, but… Everyone's going places, y'know? Ann has her modelling thing while studying part-time, Yusuke's landed that sponsor, Makoto is scaring all her professors and Haru's started that café she's always talked about and I'm—"

Ryuji does a little hand wave and half-shrug at that, and Akira hums in vague understanding.

"It's just. This community thing, working at the sports shop – that, that wasn't my dream, y'know? I wanted to run, get a scholarship. Get a proper degree like my ma always wanted, maybe in sports maybe, I dunno, and…"

"You told me Environmental Science was lame," Akira offers, and Ryuji does a little choked up laugh.

"Dude, that was before you showed me that project you did in that greenhouse. You were measuring all sorts of things, like soil salinity and gene splicing and bee stuff I can't begin to understand and stuff about sustainability and acidity and suddenly you were someone outta reach. And I know you're not. Bro, if there's one thing you've always been, it's that you've always been there. I'm just being friggin stupid."

Akira sits up straight at that, and he looks at this grown-up version of Ryuji through two eyes – the grown-up version of a boy he's met for a total of two days, and the eyes of a man who has obviously been his close friend for years and years, and they both shake their heads.

"That's not stupid," Akira replies. Ryuji looks up as if to protest, but the words die in his throat when he sees Akira's serious expression. "It's not stupid to not know the future, Ryuji."

Ryuji's face screws up.

"The future? Dude, you've lost me already."

Akira lets a ghost of a smirk flit by his face before he settles back, pushing the blanket off his lap onto the floor and flopping down on it himself. Ryuji's bed is low enough that a simple tilt of his head is enough for Ryuji to keep looking at Akira.

"Everyone else if following what they want for the future," Akira explains. "Yours had to change. Now you're comparing yourself to people who're chasing something they've known to want for years."

"But aren't I laggin' behind?"

Akira shrugs, staring up at Ryuji's ceiling. It's old, with slight stains here and there.

"It's not a competition if you don't make it one."

"But everyone's…" Ryuji trails off when he sees Akira's measured look, and he slowly smiles. "Yeah, true. When have the Phantom Thieves ever listened to what society says?" Akira nods, and Ryuji turns over to land on his back, staring at the ceiling himself. "And yeah, it's alright to take a breather and chill a bit while I find what I wanna do next. I do want a proper job so I can support my ma though."

"So don't think for too long," Akira replies with a little levity, and Ryuji laughs.

"I'm not that great at thinking, so maybe I'll go and hunt around the city for inspiration. Thanks, Akira." Ryuji's rolled over again, and his eyes are back to having a familiar smile. "You're the greatest bro anyone can ask for, you know that, right?"

"Of course I do," Akira replies. "I'm the best."

Ryuji bursts out laughing even as he chucks a pillow at Akira's head. It lands straight onto his face, pressing his glasses uncomfortably into his face, and Akira sits up in protest. By then, Ryuji has sprung up himself, controller back in hand as he points to their neglected TEGGEN game.

"Alright! Let's go another round! I'll beat ya this time!"

That's when the dream stops, fading slowly back into the morning grey light that's streaking through the dust and grime of the windows of Le Blanc's attic windows. It had been a hasty clean job – apparently, Sojiro Sakura's daughter had caught a bad sickness only a few days before Akira had been slated to appear, making Sojiro clear out the attic for Akira to live while she recuperated.

It's not as if he minds that much, Akira thinks as he blinks past the morning grit and starts preparing for school, mind wandering over the weirdly vivid dream set in the future. The same feel of a too-big body but without the pots of flowers and a talking cat this time…

Akira pauses in the middle of washing his face.

Talking cat?

Last time he lived April 2016 he had been much more active. The Transport Minister had become weak by most of his supporters being accused of scandals, becoming mysteriously sick, or going on indeterminable leave due to blackmail, and even then Shido had needed a major subway crash before the Prime Minister officially forced the Transport Minister to resign. For one, the Transport Minister had been in his spot since the last government. Second, because he was a rich, old and actually quite an upstanding man, he had many supporters.

Akechi had created a Mental Breakdown on a subway driver during midday, right after peak hour but still with lingering leftovers of Tokyo crowds. It had injured seventy-nine people, heavily injured nineteen, incapacitated twelve, and killed eight. Even at the end of the year there were still at least twenty in hospital from the results of the April subway crash, with both victims and their families barely mollified by the Minister and half his workers stepping down willingly. Shido had, of course, condemned the 'corruption' and the 'negligence', doing as politicians do and tearing his opponent when he was down. It was one of the major steps that created the first justification for Shido to start creating his own party, and it was one of the main causes that let Shido give Akechi a break as he was busy with meddling with the power vacuum the Minister had left.

This time, Akechi had limited his uses and Shido had to use many of his other cards to achieve Akechi's original effect. Even then, perhaps 10% of the efforts were either caught or ameliorated. That's disregarding Akechi and Atsuzawa's combined efforts arresting important members of Shido's group, and the lessened opportunities for Shido to fan himself into a more positive light. It had ended up with the Transport Minister still tentatively safe, Shido fuming at how tentative the complete support of his faction still was, and Akechi watching all of this on the side, cataloguing, planning, not knowing whether he should scoff or revel at the pride he felt when he realised how much of Shido's success had rested on his cooperation after all. Shido had painted him the lesser, the beggar, a tool that will only become blunter the more he used it. Whose only use, as made obvious by his death, was to be discarded as an inconvenience in the end.

But look at him now, Akechi thought with a dark glee that he hides under a benign smile. Shido wasn't showing it, but Akechi knew the signs of desperation. His plans for the Transport Minister needed to be in place by the end of May at the latest, and he was nowhere near his goal.

It is his oversight - perhaps a part of Akechi will always reluctantly think of Shido as an imposing, powering force, strong and unrelenting and has utterly everything under his thumb - that he is blindsided by what cornered beasts would stoop to do.

Shido orders him to comatose a particular subway driver with a history of domestic violence on the bright morning trains of Tokyo peak hour, where hundreds of people tightly cram onto the subway cars, and hundreds more stream onto platforms in long, winding lines waiting to be shoved on. This order is his only April coma request, and Akechi looks at it in on his phone on the subway himself, packed tightly with all the other men, women, students and elderly. If he cranes his head even a little, he'll see a sea of heads, winding down the long length of the train under the artificial fluorescents. When the subway stops, the small jolt leaves a small wave of movement that goes halfway down the carriage when a young student loses her balance.

A crash, on a train like this? Deaths wouldn't be limited to the single digits. Injuries would go into the hundreds. Hospitals would be flooded, for who knows how long.

Shido, Akechi thinks with narrowed eyes, was testing his limits. If he complies, he will gain more missions, more 'trust' on Shido's terms. If he refuses, Shido will leverage something else, because they both know that Akechi hasn't taken any of Shido's more murderous suggestions seriously for a reason. Him asking this explicitly is a movement of weakness, and Shido will never show weaknesses without clawing his opponent to the same level...

Hah, Akechi thinks with a dry hum, smiling benignly to a station officer when he looks his way. This had never been the case before, where the problem was the fact that both parties knew the other too well.

And if there was any time to take a stand, Akechi thinks as he methodically tucks himself into his sheets that night, then this would be it. While he is still on that precipice in this life. While he still hasn't wasted Minato's gift.

On the evening of the 11th Akechi is walking past Shibuya station. There is a distinct lack of a subway crash, replaced instead with an intense debate with Shido that he had upheld as he walked from his school back to Shibuya, calm-measured tones hiding the true detail of their conversation to disinterested outsiders. He delayed the train crash scheduled for that day citing that he'd prefer to target the transport system when it wasn't peak hour – Shido had returned with the reasoning that they were striving for impact and discussion, and Akechi dragged the conversation with enough valid points that peak hour came and went.

Akechi succeeds that day, despite Shido's thinly veiled annoyance, though he can see it becoming an ongoing debate as both tried to force their views on the other. It left him walking across station square with a heavier tread than usual, heading to the convenience store on the other side of the crossing.

He's lingering, waiting for the lights to turn green when he hears a strain of a happy tune from a busker on the street corner to his left. It's not the corner he needs to go to, but the tones of a saxophone and the familiar figure that stands there makes him change direction anyway.

The closer he is, the clearer he hears it. Hikaru isn't playing with an amplifier, but his saxophone is loud and clear, bright as he runs down a scale and returns to the main melody with a bit of syncopation. His eyes are closed as he bobs to the beat with his body, fingers sure and unfaltering when Akechi finally recognises the tune – Misono's newest single, albeit with a few twists and turns that Akechi doesn't remember from the times he's heard it.

Akechi has listened to enough saxophone to understand that Hikaru's smooth transitions from low to high registers, little flourishes and dynamic control is oozing skill that he doesn't expect from a teenager. He's impressed when Hikaru finishes, going forward to toss what change he could find into the open saxophone case in front of him. The coins land with loud metallic clinks.

"Thank you!" Hikaru automatically says, wiping sweat off his forehead before his eyes truly see Goro standing in front of him, and his smile suddenly turns up a thousand watts. "Goro!" He exclaims loudly, "What a wonderful surprise!"

Akechi flinches when the word 'Goro' incites a few of the crowd to look at him in his normal ensemble, attaché case and all, and some look again. Hikaru blinks, before glancing around and winces with him.

"Oh crap, whoops! I do this with Misono too, I forget you're both famous! Wait a sec, we can go soon."

Hikaru hurriedly tips the change in his case into a bag that he pulls from his pocket, before carefully taking out the reed and putting back his saxophone where it belongs. Although quick, Goro is fielding two girls who're insisting on having a picture with him by the time Hikaru straightens up again.

"Sorry, girls," Hikaru flashes a grin and a wink at the ladies. When he pulls Akechi in with an arm around his shoulder Akechi joins the girls in staring bewilderedly at him. "We have a catch up planned, sorry for interrupting you. Goodbye!"

Then Hikaru frog-marches away with Akechi in tow all the way across the crossing. It's only a minute later that Hikaru drops his arm and turns to Akechi.

"Sorry about that again, Goro," Hikaru says as they now wander down the street in comfortable anonymity. They still stand out, but not to the point that anyone would wish to look twice as they enter back into the crowds of Shibuya station. "I forget how loud I talk sometimes! How have you been? I heard you cracked one of those coma cases recently! Who knew that minister was so corrupt?"

Akechi pushes down the bitterness at Hikaru's honest mention of something he's trying not to think about, and smiles. A tinge of familiarity, just enough to still maintain a bit of appropriate distance. "I've been well, Hikaru-kun, despite the fact that I've been finding that juggling third-year studies with detective work is starting to get challenging. How was your holiday in Europe?"

"Eh, it was fine?" Hikaru replies. "It was just visiting family anyway, we go every year. I bought a souvenir for you, you know? I was thinking of giving it to you when our timetables finally match enough that we can go to the jazz bar again, but we bumped into each other here!"

"You play very well," Akechi compliments. "Was that Misono's newest single? You truly are his fan, aren't you?"

"Hehe, you could tell?" Hikaru rubs his nose bashfully. "Yeah, I've been his fan for ages – that first album I recommended, Misono composed that when he was just fourteen! When I was fourteen I was still struggling with sight-reading!"

They're interrupted by a slight growl – Hikaru pats his stomach sadly.

"Hey, want to catch dinner? Do you have time? It's my treat, I have enough from today's session for a couple bowls of ramen."

Akechi had been prepared to eat the usual convenience store sandwich as he sorted through next week's homework in his dorm anyway. When was the last time he had hot food?

"That sounds wonderful, Hikaru-kun."

"Great! Let's go to Ogikubo! They have the best ramen there," Hikaru lights up, and soon enough they've nabbed a seat at a small joint that Hikaru insists 'is the absolute best, no comparison' and soon enough a bowl of Tokyo Shoyu in front of Akechi while Hikaru snaps his chopsticks in satisfaction over his bowl of Tonkotsu, dishing out garlic from tubs next to him into his soup.

They eat in relative silence, some of the tension fading from his shoulders as he chews through the large bowl of ramen. The salt is no joke in comparison to what he usually eats, but the bowl is hot in his hands, and the meal sits comfortably after he finishes. It's an honest surprise what a satisfying meal has done to his mood – the tension he didn't know that had dragged itself in a long line from his shoulders to his neck has disappeared.

"It's good right?" Hikaru smiles, leaning back in his chair and burping. "Whoops, excuse me. Add a serving of noodles, please!" He waves to the waitress who nods in reply and tosses another batch of noodles into his soup. He's soon slurping that up too, bobbing his head to the music they're playing around the store as Akechi watches with bemusement. He's already beyond full from the first bowl.

"I love this tune!" Hikaru says after his last slurp. "Feel that beat, Goro! The drummer's going between three four and six eighths so perfectly, I can't!" He wiggles in his seat, and Akechi crinkles his eyes.

"Hikaru-kun, I'm not actually a musician even though I appreciate it," and Hikaru turns to him.

"Then let me explain!"

After a ten-minute explanation, where Hikaru commandeered table napkins and has drawn all over them, Akechi nods as he continues.

"I mean it's easy to switch between simple and compound time if you practice enough, but it's still impressive," Hikaru says overall, and Akechi tucks the information in a folder he's labelled as 'not-very-useful' and smiles.

"I am amazed at your passion for music every time I meet you, Hikaru-kun," Akechi says.

"People usually just call me loud!" Hikaru exclaims. "Thanks, Goro. You got to love something to truly live, as my grandpa used to say, so I guess I'm living my best life right now!"

Now that Hikaru has pointed out the rhythms of the song that kept repeating in the shop every few songs, Akechi can identify what he meant with the shifts in tempo. It creates an intriguing effect in its delay and shift that does incite interest now that he knows its there, and he's so focused that he nearly doesn't catch Hikaru's next statement.

"I'm talking about myself too much, sorry Goro. Sooo, I'm guessing that you love detective work, right?"

Like anything Hikaru says, it's asked innocuously. Akechi doesn't deny or affirm anything. He loved the attention that being a genius detective brought, no question. He liked achieving what others couldn't, liked the recognition of senior investigators when they listened to his logic. Being a detective also brings him several shades closer to being someone important to Joker. However, love was a strong word for someone as hollow as him, perhaps, a boy who made patricide his sole goal in life and cared for little else other than flattery.

"…When I'm helping causes of justice, perhaps," Akechi replies, and Hikaru frowns a little.

"Huh? Aren't you always helping justice, Goro?"

"Sometimes red-tape, authority and bureaucracy stops me from truly achieving the depths I want to investigate," Akechi offers in replacement of just outright saying Shido or SIU Director, "and unfair rulings are made even when I know I could've helped."

Especially if he's the one fixing the trials in the first place, his work taking half the time because he's done all of this before.

Hikaru breathes out a faintly wounded sound, face sympathetic.

"That sucks, Goro."

"That's why I cannot truly say whether I love detective work or not," Akechi expands in clarification, finding it easier to share his feelings when he excuses it in the name of Arcana. "I like proving my hypothesis right, but sometimes that does not truly create the positive outcome I wished for."

"It's alright," Hikaru says, bumping his shoulder into his. "You know, the fact that you're having these thoughts mean that you probably like it a lot, Goro! Sometimes when we love something, we have to decide whether we're up to embracing the pain that comes with it, because love is hard! That's what I've learnt," Hikaru nods, before his tone turns a little wistful. "Sometimes, I think love is the feeling you realise after you give up a tonne of things for it, and after all of that losing and stuff you realise man, I still really like it. It must be love, for me to still embrace it as I do, and that then sometimes means you embrace that loss too…"

"That sounds like it came from personal experience," Akechi says, tone made soft and sympathetic, and Hikaru laughs.

"Well, everyone has their baggage, and you definitely have some heavy ones on yours. I remind myself this sometimes and I think I'm overstepping my boundaries again, but keep your head up, Goro!" Hikaru swirls his chopsticks in the last of his cold soup and downs it all in one go. The oil clings to his lips, shiny, dark green eyes encouraging and honest when he turns that smile to him.

"We humans, we need to care about things. Music, art, literature for artsy-fartsy people like me, and maybe science and knowledge stuff for you, but we need to love something to make our lives meaningful, you know? Without something we care about, to be honest, we're just specks of space dust. Humans, each of us, we create our own meaning – how amazing is that? How hard must it be, with seven billion of us all trying to carve out something from the future? That's why I'm not afraid of ever chasing my dream," Hikaru says with conviction, every word like a solid statement of fact. "Because our ability to dream is what makes our lives worth something."

Akechi swallows. If Akechi's words are water, sliding around obstacles, truths manipulated and sunk under layers of misdirection, Hikaru talks like one who has already trodden down mountains, has stared down the depth of seas and laughed. Even though Akechi knows that the sentiments that Hikaru is sharing are perhaps too romantic, too idealistic.

"So, Goro, you too!" Hikaru continues, bumping Akechi's elbows because he's definitely noticed that Hikaru was a very touchy fellow. "Don't give in – if you love something enough to chase it even when there's a tonne to lose, don't be afraid!"

He finishes the whole spiel off with absolutely atrocious double finger guns, and Akechi covers his mouth for a few seconds before letting it fall with a smile.

"I don't even know what my dream is," Akechi replies. Perhaps once, it was Shido's head on a platter. Maybe when he was young, it was a wish for his mother to only have Good Days. Now he's confronted the vastness of the universe, enjoyed detective work under a good mentor, explored science as an unconventional assistant. He's a good student who is good at studying. He has a lot of regrets in a world that sometimes still feels like it holds a majority of humans that are honestly just a waste of space.

Resistance, perhaps. That's all he's ever known.

"That's okay too, Goro," Hikaru nods. "Using a bit of time to figure out something so important only makes sense. You're already an amazing guy – I'm sure you'll have an amazing dream too!"

Hikaru pays for their ramen after continuing to chatter on a little more about the next piece he's trying to learn for the saxophone ensemble at Kosei, and Akechi nods along. They reiterate their promise that Akechi will hear him perform at the bar one day and they leave, splitting ways at the station.

"Sorry for talking too much and thanks for the company, Goro! See you next time!" Hikaru calls over the heads of dozens of tired businessmen who glance grumpily at him, and Akechi waves back with a small smile. His talk with Shido has become much less prominent in his mind.

"It was a pleasure. Next time, Hikaru-kun."

Star Rank 3 – Hikaru Kondo

Akira contacts him as usual – they have a few calls, but since Akechi is mostly free during the evenings and Akira admits that he has a curfew, they don't have the opportunity to meet. Checking up on each other isn't as bland as Akechi would have thought since Akira has a healthy strand of deadpan snark that if Akira had been anyone else, he would've considered slightly flirtatious.

Joker's sense of humour had always been like that though, and Akechi is just mildly surprised that this sort of change is happening so quickly. Akira's only been in Tokyo for what, only a few days?

"Do you have anything on a guy called Kamoshida?" Akira asks on Wednesday right after school. It's a call, and he can hear the sound of students behind him chattering. Akechi himself is on the train during the school rush, heading to Headquarters, and he hums when he thinks of Kamoshida. The first of the Phantom Thieves' cases. Principal Kobayakawa's pride and joy, an Olympian who has represented Japan on the international level. He's also a sadistic narcissist who abuses his students both physically and sexually. The Director had long, under Kobayakawa's wishes, buried any complaints and misdeeds in Kamoshida's name.

There is no recourse for what he has and will do. This is the sort of person Akechi laughed at in Palaces, Loki cackling with glee at the fear in their faces when he levelled a gun at their head and shot them dead.

It's only been a few days, however, and Akira was already enquiring into Kamoshida. Has he already accessed the Metaverse?

"I've heard rumours," Akechi decides to reply honestly, holding his case close as he speaks closer to the receiver. "I happened over his name last year when I was trying to find something to investigate during a quiet time. Do you want to hear those, Akira-kun?"

"Teach me, sensei," Akira replies. It raises a small exasperated smile on Akechi's face as he steps off the train to the solemnity of Nagatomo.

Slightly ridiculous, as always.

"Alright," Akechi carefully separates the things he learnt on his own from his previous knowledge. "Kamoshida is a former Olympian athlete, and since he retired from the professional field, he entered Shujin to teach. Many students flocked to join the volleyball team when they heard it. After he started as a teacher, I overheard a policeman complaining about an influx of calls from a school and writing a request for an investigation, and when I enquired further, it was because several parents had repeatedly complained about the school not taking care of violent conduct."

"That's nothing special," Akechi continues. "What I was interested in was that a mere few weeks later all the parents had rescinded their complaints and refused investigation. They said that the abuse was just a misconception and that the school was looking after the student's best interests after all."

"What?" Akira replies in disbelief. It seems like he'd stopped walking.

"Yes, and when I looked further into it, I was told to stop because there's no valid reason to investigate any more. That's around the time another coma case happened, so I was distracted from this rumour. I can send you my notes on it if you wish. Do you need anything else?"

"No. Thanks, Akechi," Akira sighs.

"Are you having problems with this teacher, Akira? You're going to Shujin, correct?" Akechi asks, indulging his curiosity of these founding days of the Phantom Thieves. Last time he had no idea this had been brewing on his doorstep, but now he had the opportunity to feed his curiosity.

"Let's just say he doesn't like me," Akira replies dryly, and Akechi hums.

"Remember that I'm here if you wish for an official ear," Akechi says. "Now that you've pointed it out, his case does seem highly suspicious. If he has contacts with the police, know that you have one on your side as well."

Akechi pauses outside the Police Headquarters so that he could finish the call, going to an alcove on the side.

Akira breathes out a long breath.

"I know. Thank you, Akechi."

"I'm sorry I can't seem to help more," Akechi replies.

"It's okay. Being a Detective Prince must be hard," Akira says, and that sudden lift in tone gives Akechi a premonition that he's going to spew nonsense again. "You're busy saving other damsels in distress. I understand."

"If you call yourself and a fifty-seven-year-old train driver damsels, then sure," Akechi replies, as dry as the desert.

Akira chuckles.

"Talk to you later, Akechi."

He's been keeping an ear out for Shiho Suzui's suicide attempt. He doesn't remember the exact date that it happened, but it's one of the only solid timestamps that Akechi has. The Phantom Thieves had shared their past in broad strokes, but there had been one comment where Takamaki had told him,

"After Shiho tried to commit suicide, I followed them into the Palace because I knew they were doing something and I needed to be part of it too."

It's surprising just how soon it is though. It's just the Friday of Akira's first week at Shujin when Akechi checks hospital records and sees a case that's identical to Shiho Suzui. That means not only has Akira awakened, Ryuji Sakamoto has too, and Ann Takamaki will awaken soon.

Akechi sends a quick text to Fusa to ask whether the afternoon could be surveillance-free (Fusa replies with a grumpy 'give me more notification next time, brat') and enters Mementos to travel to Shujin as discreetly as possible.

He enters Kamoshida's Palace without much difficulty. By the looks of it, it's a relatively easy Palace, though it has some impressive verticality. Akechi's seen enough castles as Palaces that he's prepared for anything – will it launch into the air in a defensive manoeuvre, be full of pitfalls and traps – but in the end it's merely medieval themed.

He chooses Morrigan because it's much easier to hide than Robin's regalia, and it's honestly not that difficult to follow the trail that Akira and Ryuji went, smashed and stolen objects lighting up a path. It's like tailing them at Okumura's Palace all over again, without the added pain of the airlock puzzles.

Soon he hears a girl yelling. Ann Takamaki. Something about armour?

He rounds a corner just in time to hear Morgana's voice asking, "You ready?"

Quickly flickering back, he looks around the corner to see Akira standing in front of a large, mahogany door in Joker's black coat. Even now, only a few days in, he looks perfectly comfortable wearing it, nonchalant confidence in the way he looks up and down the door before looking back down to Morgana.

"I'm good to go," Akira replies and pushes open the door.

Akechi waits before creeping closer, listening in on the conversation as much as he could through the thick door. He hears Ann screaming before footsteps run closer to the door. Akechi quickly hides behind a suit of armour as a cognitive version of Takamaki in a bikini bursts out of the room.

The sounds of battle begin in the room beyond, and Akechi quickly enters before the door fully shuts.

It only takes a quick glance to know what's going on. Half-naked cognitive girls in sports bloomers are cowering at the side of a room draped in velvet and surrounded by statues that depict women's body parts. The room is lit only by red-candled braziers, referencing a red-light district, as the middle is cleared for a stand-off between the Phantom Thieves and rather weak Belphegor. Behind the toilet is the smirking Shadow of Kamoshida in a royal cloak wearing a speedo, not hiding much to the imagination.

Akechi averts his eyes and hides behind one of the statues to watch the fight.

It's honestly… a little underwhelming.

He'd known, of course, that he met the Phantom Thieves after they had developed their powers. In a single year, their team had managed to beat him at full power. Akechi had, more than once, wanted to challenge Akira to a duel just to measure his powers to his own. The amazing leader of the Phantom Thieves and his multi-Personaed powers, versus his own two years of effort as a Shadow assassin?

Who'd win?

As much as it hurt to admit it, he didn't know the answer.

But here, Akechi watched as he had to face reality. There were hardly any tactics. Joker attacked Belphegor with a Pixie, of all the things he's already killed a thousand of, Ann's strongest spell was an Agi and Ryuji seemed to have no physical skills on his Persona because he didn't use any. When Morgana shot his slingshot, he missed more than he hit. Their combined attacks as a party of four didn't even kill Belphegor, letting him use a Dia on himself before Akira leapt forward with a shoddy looking knife and slashed him into its death throes. Kamoshida soon flees, passing right by him in a wave of strong cologne. After brief discussion, the Phantom Thieves soon follow, Ryuji and Akira supporting Ann as they make their own exit.

It leaves Akechi alone in the room to think. Ignoring the crowd of half-naked girls along the walls who had immediately started to pose seductively the moment the Phantom Thieves leave, he walks to where they just had their fight. A few scorch marks from Ann, perhaps, but that's it.

Akechi brings a hand to his head, and sighs internally.

Too weak.

He intellectually knew this, of course. He'd been just as weak a lifetime ago when he nearly died beating down his very first Shadow.

The Phantom Thieves right now were useless to him. They needed a few more Palaces, at least, or a few trips into the Metaverse. Akechi had tolerated a few daydreams where he also joined the Thieves at the very beginning. Play their friendship game, examine how exactly, Akira grew to be the monster that he would be.

But doing so like he is would only bring unanswerable questions.

"Halt, intruder!"

Akechi looks up to see a crowd of Shadows entering the doorway, all dressed up in guard armour and pointing their spears menacingly at Akechi.

"Really?" He asks them, tilting his head back to look down at them with Morrigan's restless arrogance. "Don't you understand just how much stronger I am compared to all of you trash?"

"We are proud guards of King Kamoshida!" One of the guards shouts. "We do not retreat! Prepare to die!"

"Well," Akechi replies, smiling beneath his bladed mask. "You asked for it. Robin Hood!"

Robin bursts out as Akechi adjusts to the feel of gloves over his hands instead of heavy metal gauntlets. Robin's mask is already in his hand as he stares down the crowd of Shadows who were still busy transforming, the ones closest to him transforming into various figures of angels and cavalry.

Weak. All so weak.

"Megidolaon!"

The first sliver of force kills the first guard into ash with just a mere breath, and the rest of the room clears as Megidolaon blooms. In a few seconds, the room is clear, and Akechi walks over their ashes towards the exit, wondering when Akira would reach his level so they could take down Shido together.

Perhaps... before Okumura's death would be best.

Maruki takes a second to blink when he walks down the stairs of Shujin Academy to see three teenagers magically shimmer into existence in the alleyway in front of him. He blinks, pauses for a second, before letting his body autopilot his way down the rest of the stairs and onto the street.

Did I see that?

yes

I'm not just too tired, am I? I did go and accidentally drink that cup of coffee right before I wanted to sleep yesterday and then I was so buzzed I read through three papers and one of Rumi's manga books until it was four AM or something…

you did not see falsely

Huh.

Well, far from Maruki to deny that maybe magic did exist and he was just another ignorant muggle wandering around and getting obliviated every three seconds. Just because there was no proof didn't mean it didn't exist, after all. Just think about cognitive pscience.

Maruki glances backwards to watch the three teens – a beautiful girl, a thuggish boy, and a quite elegant featured boy walk out of the alleyway, all wearing Shujin uniforms. Maruki blinks twice. They are still there, and Maruki finally goes back to walking normally just in case someone noticed him looking too long at a student and accused him of being a pervert or something because he truly wasn't, he was just an innocent bystander to high schoolers doing magic, which is fuel for police to arrest him accusing him of a drug trip, to be truly honest…

you're overthinking again

And indeed he was. Maruki brushes a hand through his hair and sighs.

He didn't know what had pushed him into coming to the school. Some subconscious push maybe, added onto the fact that one of his college friends had told him rumours that Principal Kobayakawa had connections to people who were interested in cognitive pscience research. He really does desperately need funding, but he had been disappointed to find that Principal Kobayakawa was, in fact, a highly self-absorbed man who didn't even listen to him and thought he was applying as a counsellor.

In the end Maruki had just gave him his resume and left. It's not as if he'd get hired, anyway.

maruki

lay low for a while

Maruki frowns. Is something the matter?

i feel

something strange is happening

there is an unknown force at work

be careful maruki

Then the mysterious voice stops talking, and Maruki knew him enough to understand that nothing was going to convince the voice to keep talking. Laying low probably meant no Actualisations for a few weeks.

He's been with this strange partner of his long enough to know that cognitive pscience was just the tip of a massive iceberg. If there was something brewing in the cognitive world, it'd be best to listen.

"Doctor Maruki!" A cheerful voice calls. "I didn't know you were going to be here today!"

"Oh, Kasumi!" Maruki turns with a smile. "I didn't expect to see you here either, even though I know you recently transferred. How have you been?"

The girl in front of him looked far cry from the depressed, suicidal girl he once met, pleading with him under the weighted shoulders of survivor's guilt. Maruki is only too glad to nod along to his former patient's happy chatter about her school day as they walk down the street down to the station together.

Sunday finds him helping Saito when he receives a text from her mid-morning asking him whether he had the time to fetch a basket underneath her table that she forgot. The text is apologetic, explaining that she was already at the hospital before she remembered the extra basket.

Akechi texts back assuring her it's fine before fetching the basket using the spare key that Saito hides behind a pot-plant and heading down the street to the hospital.

The receptionist smiles at him from the desk, and Akechi nods back as he walks down towards the more community centred part of the hospital. A small kids corral, a resting place for parents on the side, and a small quiet room with glass walls that Saito sits within, the door cracked open.

When Akechi approaches, he can hear Saito's kind voice.

"You already know what to do, don't you?" She's asking, patting the woman's hand in between her own. She's middle-aged, dressed impeccably with hair in a professional bob, but there are remnants of tear tracks from her mascara.

"Saito-san," the woman says hoarsely, voice a deeper husk than Akechi expects. "But what if he still loves me?"

"Yui-san, do you love him?"

"I loved who he used to be," Yui says more to Saito's hands than Saito herself. There's a flash of sympathy in Saito's face when the woman doesn't continue.

"Yui-san, although our past in undeniably important because our experiences shape who we are now, we people ultimately live in the present. We act in the present, we make choices in the present. We are the people we are – in the moment that we live. There are some things that even the most tender memories from the past shouldn't excuse. You understand that, right?"

Yui sighs, and the confident look Akechi can easily see the woman having if she was walking down the street in Shibuya or sitting at an office desk, crumples. Saito doesn't say anything more, just draws her in and pats her on the back, and Akechi makes himself scarce for the next ten minutes before returning.

By then, the woman has left, and Saito is back to knitting away in her chair.

"Sorry for delaying you, Akechi-kun," Saito says, smiling up at him. She's not wearing a cap today since the weather has been so fine, though she's still wearing a sweater. "You heard a little of that?"

"I'm guessing she was in an unfortunate situation," Akechi replies smoothly, offering the basket to Saito. She points to an empty spot in a worn cupboard nearby, and he slots it in.

"I've seen Yui-san quite a few times these past few months," Saito says. "She's a strong girl."

"Do you talk to many people here?" Akechi asks as he straightens up, rolling out one of his shoulders, and Saito smiles down at the sleeve that she's making.

"Well, I'm hardly qualified, but some people who don't want to face official help sometimes find their way to me. I try my best to remind people that they're strong, but ultimately people have to make their own choices."

Akechi thinks of the edge of a blue bruise that peeked from Yui's collar when she had bent forward to hug Saito, and he hums.

"Strong, Saito-san?"

"One of those questions again, Akechi-kun?" Saito asks with a twinkle in her eye. "You're always asking me one deep question after another. Don't worry, it's a sign of an inquisitive mind. Let's keep this simple…" Saito tilts her head. "The one thing that a person can't take away from you is yourself. Dignity, pride, ambition, inner strength, people can steal from you momentarily. But these things, they come from within yourself. You generate it. And the moment people realise this, they become untouchable."

"Really?" Akechi replies. "That… I can't help but feel it is a little unrealistic."

He also thinks with humour that Shido would flip if heard what Saito was saying. Shido made a living out of stealing the dignity and ambitions of others merely because he thought that they were worth less than his own.

Shido had pushed for the peak-hour subway crash again.

Akechi still hadn't replied.

"How so, Akechi-kun?" Saito asks, and Akechi sits down in the chair next to her. The view from here, is, as usual, the worn-down kids corral in a faded rainbow. Saito never sits in any other seat.

Akechi replies, "Take Yui-san, for example. You implied that she's been coming to the hospital for months, Saito-san."

"Yui is strong, only she's using it in the worst way possible," Saito says placidly. "Her strength lies in her loyalty and love. Family is precious to her, and she doesn't want to rip it apart, and this strength is what keeps her facing her husband every day. Her husband knows this and has guilted her into staying with him whenever she mentions his behaviour, mentioning petty things to place blame of his abuse onto her actions. She's able to bear it because she is strong. However, she's too strong – she doesn't know how to bend anymore, so all I can do is to either tell her to get official help, which she refused or redirect that strength."

"What do you mean by redirect?"

"Why, mentioning her child, of course. She has a cute three-year-old daughter, and I remind Yui that she has something precious on the line." Saito grins underneath her wispy white hair. "I've told her it's my personal opinion, of course, and that she doesn't have to listen to me if she doesn't want to… but I may have told her to leave the bastard once or twice. She's afraid of change and she has so much to lose. But she obviously wants her situation to change as well, so I keep telling her – your daughter's future is on the line. You have to take the first stand!"

The sound of children's laughter seeps in through the open door, and Akechi doesn't let himself think too much.

"Hey, Saito-san. What do you think are my strengths?"

"Yours?" Saito asks. "Hmm. Your determination, perhaps. I've noticed that you have quite a fire in you to prove yourself. You throw yourself into everything you do and fight for what's important to you, and that's always admirable. And perhaps your kindness? Whether it's an active choice or not, it's nothing to sniff at."

Akechi can't help but laugh there, a sound that joins the laughter from outside. It makes something sardonic into something warm.

"Kindness is a little inaccurate, Saito-san," Akechi says afterwards, and Saito shrugs.

"Well, that's the thing about opinions. You can't police them. And I think you're a very nice young man, Akechi-kun. Look at you, fetching baskets for me, saving women from homelessness. If that isn't kind, nothing is. Now all you have to do is accept it."

Saito reaches out and jokingly presses down on his head. When he goes with it, Saito's wrinkled face creases even more in a wide smile.

"Look at you, Akechi-kun, admitting to yourself that you're a kind young man! Which reminds me, want a cookie? I baked too many for my grandson's visit, and now I have a whole Tupperware container of them."

Akechi's pressed into accepting a whole container of cookies that he'd honestly thought was one of Saito's donation wares, and he goes home with the taste of chocolate chip cookies in his mouth as he checks his phone.

[Akira Kurusu: You free for lunch?]

[Akira Kurusu: I heard that the diner has nice food.]

[Goro Akechi: It's also a good place to study sometimes. I have to unfortunately decline for today, Akira-kun. I have something that I need to address.]

[Akira Kurusu: :( Okay. Next time then.]

[Goro Akechi: There's a place I want to introduce you in Kichijoji anyway. I think you'll like it.]

[Akira Kurusu: Alright. I'll look forward to it. I have high expectations.]

[Goro Akechi: I hope you like jazz, Akira-kun.]

Akira starts typing something but it stalls, presumably distracted by something so Akechi slips the phone back in his pocket and takes out another one.

It's an order, as always.

We need to have a discussion, Akechi.

Sun Rank 3 – Ise Saito

This time it's just a phone call, so Akechi has that at least as he sits on his bed, curtains drawn and windows closed. He recently bought another layer of curtains, and they block the sunlight better than only having one cloth layer.

"Thank you for arranging some time to speak to me today," Akechi says first when the call connects, and Shido gives an approving hum.

"Then you understand the issue that we're going to speak about," Shido says. "Your strange reluctance to uphold your end of the bargain, Akechi."

Akechi breathes in the smell of his room – tea, new books, fresh blankets – and replies.

"Shido-san, I wasn't refusing our bargain to finish one Palace a month," Akechi says. "I merely disagreed with the selection of people you wished to target."

"Having a choice on who to target wasn't part of our bargain, Akechi," Shido replies, voice alarmingly calm. It's smooth and prepared, and Akechi swallows. There's something wrong here, Akechi thinks. Normally their conversations consist of Akechi reporting, Shido fantasising about his Prime Ministership, Akechi stroking his ego, and Shido calling himself the chosen one, and Akechi taking his leave. Shido had never wasted much thought on Akechi, even nowadays where Shido paid him attention.

"It was an unstated part of our bargain, so I felt like I could take advantage of the ambiguity," Akechi replies formally. "We're currently targeting the railway company and the Ministry of Transport, and we've faked the assessment reports six months ago. Having a subway derail at midnight will have the same effect as having a subway derail at peak hour, pointing out that no-one in the Ministry tried to fix the tracks even though reports had warned of their degeneration. Am I correct?"

He can hear Shido's smile stretch across his ear.

"Akechi, this is why you're just my aide and not one of my advisors. Do you even know why we've targeted the Ministry of Transport for so long? It's because he's an old man with too many connections," Shido drawls condescendingly, "and dismantling him will dismantle the ruling party's main pillar. If we don't make it newsworthy, make the public angry in some way, that old man merely has to flick his finger and all the news will disappear."

"You also have strong media connections, Shido-san," Akechi starts, and Shido scoffs.

"Foolish. I expected better from you, Akechi. If I use these cards now when I don't have to, I'm just illuminating who is mine for that old man to see. He's not dethroned yet. He'll get rid of them, just like how I get rid of his when I see them."

Further arguments to save human life will fall on moot ears, and Akechi keeps his silence. Shido takes those seconds with satisfaction.

"Now do you understand, Akechi? This is why we need to drum up more drama. The more people involved, the harder it is to hide. We all know this, surely."

"May I propose mid-day then?" Akechi replies. "There are still people within the subways during this time."

"Did what I tell you go in one ear and out the other?" Shido merely snaps, before he sighs. "I didn't expect you to be so soft, Akechi. I hope there's another reason other than some misbegotten morality that has lead you to delay my plans, so I'm going to allow you that time."

…What?

"One week," Shido says, voice smooth as silk, the voice he used when he was baiting people into his faction, in his traps. "Then we will both present our terms, and we'll proceed from there. Is that fine with you, Akechi?"

"That's awfully generous of you," Akechi replies after a pause.

"We have a working relationship, Akechi," is Shido's reply, pleasant to the ear. "And have I ever been an unfair man towards you? Think about it, we'll reconvene next week."

"Goodbye," Akechi says, and not even a second later he's listening to a dial tone.

He's only just placed his phone on the table, debating on whether to do homework or take up Akira on his offer from earlier since the call ended much earlier than expected when it rings again.

Akechi glances down at the caller ID and picks it up immediately.

"Osumi-san? It's a pleasant surprise to hear from you… You've finally found some time to meet up? That is wonderful news. Wednesday night is fine with me as well, though Saito-san might find that inconvenient." Akechi listens. "Just the two of us this time then, if you're not uncomfortable. See you then."

"You what?!" Ann shrieks when Akira pulls out a stack of paper from his bag. It's after school on Monday at their hideout on the school rooftop, and both Ryuji and Morgana look at what Akira places on the spare tables with interest.

"Dude, this is amazing!" Ryuji's eyes are wide as he scans the notes. There are police records that are, Goro had told him, supposed to be confidential, plus a few more observations here and there that Goro had noted when he passed the streets. There're also some past records of Kamoshida when he was still an athlete, with a few hushed sex scandals. "Man, look at this! If this is true, wouldn't the reason why Kamoshida retired wasn't because he wanted a break from fame, but because he slept a reporter and gave her secret information? We can totally threaten him with this!"

"Where did you get all this, Akira?" Morgana asks blue eyes narrowed as he glances between the notes and him. "Are they trustworthy?"

"You said that you're friends with some guy in the police?" Ann says, still a little too loudly.

"Ah, wait," Ryuji frowns as the words catch up to him. "Even after what they did to you?"

Akira stops curling his hair around his finger and looks at all of them.

"He's trustworthy. I knew him before my probation. And he's only technically part of the police since he's still an intern."

"An intern with so much information?" Morgana asks, sitting straight as one of his paws spreads the papers so that he could read more. "A lot of this is noted to have been hushed by the media as well. This guy is either very impressive, or he's lying to you."

Akira nearly sighs out loud and gives Goro a mental apology.

"He's the Detective Prince."

"Wait, who?" is Ryuji's first response, which isn't surprising really. Akira wouldn't watch half the shows Goro is in if he weren't featured. Half of them were morning shows, and the other half were either police-related, the news, or deeply political.

"You know Goro Akechi?!" Ann shrieks in reply, before turning on Ryuji. "How can you not know him? He's the Second Coming of the Detective Prince! He's in the news every other week, and he recently revealed that corrupt minister a few weeks ago, it was a huge scandal! Shiho," and Ann falters before she continues. "Shiho and I once talked about him because he was the only non-entertainment celebrity to reach top ten in that ranking for top guys girls would want to date last month!"

"So he's really famous?" Morgana asks, swishing his tail even while Ryuji started frowning, muttering the name over and over. It was familiar somehow? Like, he'd heard of it before?

"Of course you've heard it before, Ryuji," Ann rolls her eyes. "Half the girls in your class probably talk about him at lunch. And yes, he's famous Morgana. In the article that Shiho and I read, not only did he get a top internship with an elite detective team when he was only in first year, he's also a top honour student. Now he's part of the team cracking down on those coma incidents."

"So he's very smart, huh," Morgana muses, looking down at the papers. "But I'm guessing that since he's a high-school student like us, he probably doesn't have a lot of power to actually close cases. So even if we have all of this information, if Kamoshida had enough power to snuff it out once, he can probably do it again."

"I mean, if we can plaster all of this on the internet, Kamoshida will have nowhere to run," Ryuji points out.

"But it's definitely easier for them to track something like this than stealing his Treasure in the Metaverse," Morgana points out, and Ryuji concedes.

"Yeah, good point. Even if we pull in someone like Mishima, I dunno about our chances of not gettin' found."

"I want to use this as a last resort," Akira says, not bothering to raise his voice. It's as quiet as always but miraculously, all three of them quiet down to listen to him. Akira takes a moment to take the three in – Ryuji, slightly jogging his leg up and down, Anne leaning casually on a desk, Morgana's wide blue eyes trained unblinkingly on him. Even though he was kind of shoehorned into becoming their leader, they already feel like a team and he's slightly alarmed at how quickly he's becoming fond of them. That he can even tentatively have friends here, though the circumstances that brought them together were odd.

"Yeah, bein' Phantom Thieves are way cooler, huh?" Ryuji grins, and Ann rolls her eyes.

"I doubt that's the reason, Ryuji."

"You're probably worried that using this will mean that your friend will get outed for helping you, right?" Morgana hits the nail on the head, and Akira nods. "You're a good friend, Joker. I appreciate you sharing this with us though. We'll proceed with our original plan first then. If stealing Kamoshida's heart doesn't work out, then we can always use this to gain justice. I'm sure stealing his heart will work though!" Morgana rushes to assure them all. "Trust me!"

"You've always been a lil' shifty, cat," Ryuji narrows his eyes at him, and Morgana bares his teeth. Ann is the one looking over the papers now, her face stretching into one of disgust whenever she sees something particularly disgusting in the pile of information Goro had sent him.

"I still can't believe you know Goro Akechi, Akira!" Ann says as she finishes. "You're pretty amazing, you know that?"

"It was a meeting of fate," Akira replies seriously, and Ann laughs even as she stacks all the paper back into one neat pile and hands it back to Akira.

"Keep that safe, leader! I'll head out now, I want to visit Shiho before it gets too late."

"Say hi to Suzui for me," Ryuji immediately looks away from his staring contest with a cat. "We all send our best wishes, okay?" Akira nods solemnly next to him, and Ann's smile is less wobbly than it was yesterday.

"Yep, got it! See you guys tomorrow!"

Hinata's apartment isn't in the best neighbourhood, but it isn't the worst that it could be. It's an old block, built when Japan was widely industrialising after World War II for the sake of manufacturers. It's not the most convenient locale in comparison to human hubs like Shibuya. The stairs are sticky under his feet as he climbs since the elevator is out of service when he tries it. The walls are filled with graffiti and trash in the corners, but he reaches the fifth floor safely enough.

When he rings the bell, he doesn't need to wait for long before he hears a hurried 'Coming!' and the door unlocking.

"Akechi-kun, you're right on time. Sorry, I just finished a shower," Hinata welcomes him in, towel still around her neck as she backs away for him to have space in the shoe box. The door locks automatically behind him as Akechi toes off his shoes and enters.

"Thank you for your invitation, Osumi-san," Akechi says, offering the bag in his hand. "This isn't much, but please consider this my housewarming gift."

Hinata takes the bag and peers inside. It's a collection of dishware and cutlery for children rated the most highly on the site that Akechi bought it on. Since the quality was good and the characters chosen were cute, Akechi hadn't put much thought and bought it.

Hinata closes the bag carefully, however, her hands shaking.

"Thank you so much, Akechi-kun. Um, I don't have much but please make yourself at home."

She bustles inside, waving Akechi forward past a small strip of a kitchen to the main living and dining room. There, Shion is placed on a cushion on a small couch, tucked in the corner to support his body in a way he doesn't seem interested in, as he's gurgling and trying to topple over. Hinata's general air of nervousness fades a little when she sees Shion waving his arms.

"He's been having a lot of fun rolling around everywhere lately," Hinata shares as she waves him to a chair and brings him a cup of water. "So I've been trying to place him in corners so that he doesn't roll somewhere I can't see when I have to be somewhere else."

Shion's cheeks are fat, black hair growing in a thick shock that sticks straight upwards. He's now watching the small television in front of him in a daze. Akechi estimates he'll probably drool soon if he doesn't close that mouth in the next minute or so.

"Dinner will be ready in five minutes!" Hinata calls over her shoulder, and Akechi stands to help. That's greeted with a rapid flutter of her hands urging him to sit back down. The tight nervous energy that's wound around her continues even as she bustles towards the kitchen.

"Osumi-san, am I doing anything that's making you so nervous?"

"Nothing, it's nothing," Hinata says, carefully coming out holding a large dish of food. "Just, it's the first time anyone's in my apartment. Isn't it shabby?"

"It's perfectly fine," Akechi says with an understanding smile. "Especially considering your circumstances, I'm impressed, Osumi-san. You've put a lot of effort into making this space yours."

There are photographs on the walls already, hanging from cheap plastic frames of a few pictures of Shion that's obviously printed from her phone. There's an old bouquet of flowers in the corner, with a card attached that he can read from here – a welcome gift to her new job. The tables and chairs, as well as the sofa and television, are all obviously second hand, but carefully chosen all the same.

Hinata has obviously tried to make it her home as much as she could.

"Thanks, I worked really hard on it. Now I hope you don't dislike beans?"

They have beans, rice, a few vegetables and a slice of fish each. It's a fare that Akechi hasn't eaten for a while – not only because it's freshly cooked, but because the quality of the ingredient (a little old, a little stale) hold a sense of nostalgia with them.

Shion is dribbling his food everywhere, and half of Hinata's meal is just wiping his mouth.

God, babies.

The moment Shion is let free of his chair, he stretches his arms and legs and starts dragging himself straight into Akechi's leg. Then black, beady eyes stare up at him, and arms rose up in a plea to…

Akechi sighs and picks up this flabby warm thing, and places him right back into the deep sofa corner where Shion stares at Akechi petulantly, blowing a bubble of snot from his nose.

Yeah, no. He backs away quite quickly and scrolls on his phone until Hinata's finished with the dishes. The kitchen is too small for two people, and Hinata had firmly insisted that guests were not going to help with chores on her watch.

The two settle down soon enough, cycling through topics. Hinata shares enough about her new job, "Everyone is really nice," she insists. "It's kind of an upscale hotel, so I was really surprised I got a job. It pays really well too, so when I get my deposit back I might be able to move to a new apartment."

"I'm glad you seem to have such a good working environment," is Akechi's response, as he watches Hinata fiddle with the tablecloth, her eyes wandering off Akechi before snapping back. Somewhere along in their conversation, she stands up to drag Shion into her arms, cradling him on her lap as he spouted some babble and drooled on her shoulder.

"I'm sorry for making you uncomfortable, Osumi-san," Akechi says in the middle of a long, nervous ramble. "Perhaps next time it will be more comfortable for you if we also have Saito-san alongside the visit.

"No, it's really not your fault!" Hinata insists, and confusingly enough the statement feels genuine. "I'm just, it's just a lot of stress! Yeah, juggling being Shion's mother and working fulltime while maintaining the house is a lot more stressful than I thought, even if I do live in a shoebox."

When Akechi glances around the apartment, Hinata adds, "I don't think I remember the last time I relaxed, to be honest."

"If Saito-san heard that, she would advise you not to burn out," Akechi says, trying to regain a little of that carefree atmosphere they had achieved when she was still working at the café. "Speaking personally as a child who came from a single-parent family, I'll also advise you to take a break."

"But I can't," Hinata says, hand twisting into Shion's onesie before abruptly letting go. "There's so little time in a day, Akechi-kun! And, um, cleaning, washing, planning the groceries, doing budget every week while still being there for Shion. I sometimes feel like I'm not doing enough to be the perfect mother that I know I need to be."

"Osumi-san, that's where you're wrong. This is something that I wish someone could have told my mother since she cared about appearances and was a bit of a perfectionist…" Akechi trails off, thinking of soft lips that sometimes kissed his forehead. Thin-skinned and petty. "But you don't have to be perfect to be a mother."

Beautiful, insecure, and slightly callous when she was trying to protect herself. Akechi's mother had bemoaned her circumstances first and guilted herself every single time she did something 'unmotherlike' until it was too late. She had no-one to depend on except the fleeting promise of Shido. To think that Akechi could be some sort of help to Hinata did, in a sense, fill him with a sense of justice. Validation.

"And perfect varies by standards, so all you need to do is find your own balance and keep trying. Saito and I are happy to help, as always."

"Why?" Hinata replies, head ducked low. Shion slaps a small hand against her neck, but she doesn't seem to care. "I've only been a burden to the two of you if I think about it. I'm a scandal waiting to happen for your identity as a Detective Prince and you know it, and I only ever keep asking for favours from Saito."

"Rumours are just rumours, and they don't affect my true abilities, Osumi-san," Akechi replies easily. Shido wouldn't let anyone touch his Detective Prince status since he's the main conspirator arranging the coma accusations behind the scenes, so that was well-protected. "And Saito enjoys connecting and helping people. Inviting her to a meal like this would be more than enough to make her happy."

The next breath in is wet.

"Did I upset you, Osumi-san?"

"No," Hinata replies. "I'm just. Really happy that you guys are there for me. You guys are my precious friends too, okay? I'll invite Saito-san over too next time, we can talk over dinner—"

Hinata jumps when the loud tones of a text message ring through the air, face paling. "Oh yeah, Akechi-kun. Do you like Shion?" She asks abruptly, and Akechi blinks at the sudden change in the conversation, glancing down at this younger sibling of his in her arms.

The baby is laughing at something that only he sees in the air between his eyes and the ceiling, clapping as much as he could, and Akechi wonders if he'd looked just as stupid when he was that age.

"He's… certainly grown. I'm sure he'll soon grow into a wonderful person like yourself, Hinata-san." Akechi considers carefully, before he puts on a serious smile. There's a sense of hidden trepidation for her next answer. "Do you love Shion?"

"Of course." Hinata hugs Shion tightly, without hesitation. "I think he's the one light I have left in my world sometimes."

She kisses him on the forehead, and Shion squirms in her grip. It gives Akechi a bittersweet feeling as he bows and leaves, returning back down through the dingy stairway and back into the bustle of Shibuya at night. Trendily dressed women and men walk the streets, knowing that it's their time of youth now that all the business people are sleeping in preparation for the new day. They swing into bars and pubs and clubs tucked away in shadier corners, twenty-something and living at their best. And Akechi breathes out, thinking of Hinata sitting alone in front of her small television, hugging Shion, door locked tight against intruders and uniform pressed and ready hanging from the door.

Akechi looks up at Tokyo evening smog, the darkness above the veil of city light.

He knows best, how the world can be cruelly unfair.

Tower Rank 5 – Hinata Osumi

On Sunday Shido presents his terms.

It's simple. It's just one photograph.

Within that photograph is the figure of a daycare carer, smiling as she held Shion in her arms.

He recognises that woman. She's one of Shido's people, her name and face often show up in the reports that Akechi organises for Shido when he asks.

Shido only says one, simple thing.

What are your terms, Akechi?

Akechi clenches his phone to the point that his fingertips are a blotchy red and white.

Akechi thinks of precious things that he does not want to give up. He has a goal in this life, to change. To win. He thinks of integrity, justice, strength and dark curling hair on a rainy day. The memory of that challenging smirk that had risen and risen again, because they had always been so similar in the ways that mattered. They were the type to push, resist, fight, and survive because a loss was only a setback to victory. Akechi has always done whatever it took to crush his opponents, to advance his goals.

But he remembers Hinata's face and the only moment she relaxed, kissing Shion's forehead, face transforming into wonder when Shion butted his head back and gurgled.

When he closes his eyes, he hears a determined voice, the waft of broth and bright warmth. You've got to love something to truly live!'

He sees a lopsided smile with eyes crinkled and fond. 'Because it's the right thing to do'.

'I didn't expect you to be so soft' Shido had accused, and Akechi breathes out hard when he realises how right he had been. This would never have been a problem in the past when he had fixated on bringing down Shido and Shido alone.

He looks at his phone that Sunday and all the reasons and preparations he made during the week are not enough for the one life in that woman's hands.

When had Akechi become a person who couldn't bring himself to rip a baby from his loving mother? Now Shido knows what to press when he wishes to refuse a request. Akechi concedes this time, and he knows he will concede the next and the next and the next.

Then there is only one solution available, Akechi thinks as he grinds his teeth in sheer anger.

He has to extract Hinata Osumi from Shido's grasp.

Devil Rank 4 - Masayoshi Shido

So, Akira asks himself after another night of banging his fingers in to make lockpicks, two weeks and he's already, what. Became a cognitive thief, became the leader of a cognitive thief band, confronted abuse, made two friends (and a cat), fought a few monsters and some and was now waiting for Kamoshida to finally come to terms with the meaning of guilt so that Ann could bitch-slap him in public. He's also been talking to a long-nosed guy in his dreams with two small girls that like to look down their nose at him, alongside the other weird dreams that Akira has decided were of... the future?

Morgana purrs from the side of his head, warm and smelling slightly of coffee, and Akira wishes he had some normality.

[Akira Kurusu: Hey, I know you're busy but]

[Akira Kurusu: You have time for a movie tomorrow?]

[Goro Akechi: Your text came at the perfect time. I was finding that I needed a break myself. Shibuya or Shinjuku?]

[Akira Kurusu: Shibuya. See you after school.]

Chapter Text

If Ann had been hired as a teen model because she had been the perfect mix of mature beauty and cheerful charm, with blue eyes a light crystal and hair voluminous enough to drape over her shoulders in an attractive wave, Ann as an adult is a near overwhelming sight.

Having taken care of her health and body ever since she swore to be a better model (with the occasional stacked crepe or two with the girls), Ann is a common vision on the billboards and large advertisement screens. She winks and smiles in the perfume advertisement that Akira watches from Shibuya crossing, crimson painted lips a fleeting curve as she turns around in her sheer evening gown. A glimpse of her shoulder shows before a tumble of light blonde hair shifts across her back in the small breeze. She's the only one in the moonlight, the only colour in the dark of the shimmering mist, before the logo of the perfume shows up and the advertisement stops.

It's one of the longest-running ads that Akira has ever seen – the campaign was so phenomenally successful that perfume sales had nearly been out of stock for six months straight and this had only been Ann's second international advertisement. Before, if she had any jobs for America or Japan, the campaigns would be a more local issue. This time they had judged that it was worth displaying this advertisement in all the countries this brand had a store for, and it had rolled out as a phenomenon.

All Ann had said though, through a mouthful of Le Blanc curry, was a happy laugh, shrugging it off. "Those thirty seconds took five hours to shoot!" She'd said with joking exasperation before she leaned over his shoulder to look at plant germination facts with him.

Although her image as a model had become much more high-end, her widespread appeal to the youth also came from her active social media with her cheerful tweets and jokes. It was what caught her current manager's eye in the first place – her new company had operated on more traditional business models and wanted to diversify their appeal with their newest investment. Ann had been an experiment for them, but she had taken the challenge with her usual determination.

"I'm going to do it, Akira!" She had said to him, fist pumped up and smile wide. Her eyes crinkled into happy crescents. "I'm going to show both you and Shiho just how strong I've become!"

All the Phantom Thieves had collectively lived through what she experienced the few months after that. Her manager appreciated her, for sure, but she was apparently also an 'extreme hardass' as Ann put it one evening, groaning about packed schedules and too much travel. Akira and Haru had both been on 'supportive friend tea + coffee duty', as the two plied their wilted friends (mostly Makoto and Ann, and sometimes Futaba from social fatigue) with drinks and food when they managed to drag themselves in through the door.

Shibuya crossing isn't that much different in the future, Akira notes somewhere distant. The shops he's sees in his time are mostly still there, the people are still crossing the street in hordes. It's strangely comforting to know how static some things are no matter how the years pass.

"Akira!" Ann waves now, and he looks to the side where Ann is wearing a long summer dress that flows straight down to her ankles, comfortably loose except for a single decorative chain cinched around her waist. It seems like it's a season for a light cornflower blue because that's her main theme today – the accessories in her hair, the delicate patterns on her dress that he sees now she's come closer. "Shiho's at the teahouse already, let's go!"

She's left her hair down and it shines nearly white underneath the strong sun, some strands floating silver when she chatters away with her usual topics of choice – the eateries that she's had an eye on for her next 'indulgence day' ('which is next week!' She says excitedly), and how she's looking forward to meeting Shiho again.

They enter a modern-fusion teashop, the rich smell of tea leaves hitting their faces when they enter. It's not as coldly air-conditioned that it hit Akira with a wave of immediate relief from the summer, but the both of them don't mind when they saw Shiho Suzui sitting in a corner booth laughing with another boy. Akira's younger eyes are relieved when he sees Shiho awake, fully recovered and doing well.

"Shiho!" Ann waves, weaving through the store in a beeline. By the time she's there, Shiho has stood up and they hug tightly, saying a few murmuring words Akira can't hear as he catches up and slides into his own seat, nodding at the other boy who greets him by name. They all seem familiar as the four settle down to chat – Shiho's boyfriend is a mild-looking fellow with a sarcastic sense of humour that keeps the whole table laughing, and time flies by with recurring orders of cake and tea.

Shiho leaves when it gets darker, citing that she needs to prepare for a family dinner. She extends invitations to the both of them, but Ann shakes her head regretfully, saying that she has a night-time shoot, and Akira follows suit.

They both watch as Shiho holds hands with her boyfriend, comfortably leaning into each other as they exit and Ann sighs wistfully, smile satisfied after such a nice catchup.

"I wonder when I'll get someone like that?" Ann muses, and Akira is – one set of feelings is slightly teasing, his face curling up into a small Cheshire grin. The other set is strangely relieved that he doesn't seem to be dating Ann after all.

Not that, of course, Ann isn't wonderful. She deserves nothing but the best.

"So none of those seventeen online boyfriend claims were true after all?" he asks, and Ann whacks his arm playfully.

"No, stupid," she grins. "I checked out one of their posts and as if I'd ever date someone who called my skin 'delicate like the skin of gossamer tofu', like, what even is that?"

Akira mouths 'gossamer tofu' to himself and Ann catches it, and they both end up laughing again.

"For real though," Ann says as she notices that the teashop switched on their lights for the encroaching evening, servers changing shifts. "I'll need to prepare for that night shoot soon. Someone's going to pick me up near my apartment, and your university is on the way there, right?"

Akira nods and they leave as well, entering back into the ever-present movement of the Tokyo metropolis. The sky is streaked with pink, now that they're outside, and the street they're on is more on the well-to-do side. Large glass shopfronts are switching on their lights, spilling out onto the dry concrete in colourful squares and lighting up the world in panes of rainbow. Somewhere, Akira will always miss the quiet of the countryside – the blanket of stars, the rattle of wind from unseen trees up the mountain – but sometimes the city has beauty that strikes him unexpectedly, even after so many years.

Perhaps he's just a little sentimental that way.

"I'm so glad I could catch up with you too, Akira," Ann is saying, the two sticking close as they walk. Akira cleaned up today just for her – and he's not ashamed to say he knows he looks good. They turn heads, and Akira anticipates another wave of 'are they really just friends?' that always happens when someone catches them together. Ann always suppresses them though – one of her contract terms stipulates that her private life was to be protected, and even her manager respects how fiercely Ann cherishes her friends. "Before I leave for America again."

Ann bites her lip in the way she does when she's thinking of something unpleasant. Akira takes that in with a tilt of his head, before slowing down his steps and letting her take the time she needs. They've known each other long enough, confided in all the emotions and matters that only history and pure understanding can achieve. He trusts she'll tell him how he could help.

"…I'm glad you got that extra contract," Akira offers when the silence stretches too long.

"Yeah, me too," Ann say, nodding. "It's just that, you know it all already, but my popularity is growing faster in the States now. There's also a bigger market, so the company is thinking of moving me there… more permanently."

Akira takes that with little surprise. It's something they've been hedging around for months.

"That successful modelling dream is right around the corner now, Akira," Ann is saying. Her lipstick faded during their tea catch up, and she didn't bother re-applying it. It's her normal soft pink, and she's biting them again. "I… Shouldn't I be happier than this?"

Akira tilts his head, examining her. Then he cuts to the chase, directly addressing the issue that he isn't sure Ann has quite gotten yet.

"It's alright to leave us behind, Ann. We'll always be here for you."

Ann blinks, registers his words, and something clicks in place as her eyes widen before going straight into a frown.

"But I don't want to leave you behind. Shiho too, or the rest of the Thieves," Ann says. "The only reason I became a model in the first place was to show you and Shiho just how strong I can be. To become someone you guys can look at and rely on."

"You'll always be an inspiration to us," Akira replies, eyes wandering forward. His voice is as measured and soft as always, as he tries to say his thoughts concisely. "Taking this step means you can be an inspiration to more people. Isn't that your dream?"

And yes it was, both he and Ann knows. She wants to be a pillar of strength, wants to inspire her friends with her own dreams. But somewhere along the line that transformed into a desire to inspire more than that, to reach out to all the other boys and girls who struggled with finding the strength to step forward, to be stronger and more confident. To take that next step, Ann would have to leave where she'd long left her heart – her seat at Le Blanc, her bickering with the Thieves, her indulgence days with Shiho and the girls, and the very reason why she embarked on this road the first place.

Ann has always been a person with simple needs, but that didn't mean her thoughts didn't have layers, that she didn't have concerns and aspirations and dreams that lay underneath the surface. She loves her friends from the bottom of her heart. She loves her job. It's an irreconcilable conflict that makes Akira just feel slightly sad, that their problems have finally reached this point. That he can't just snap a finger, say a few words and solve it anymore.

They reach her apartment, and Akira hugs her just as hard when she leans in to give him a goodbye squeeze.

"Why can't all of this be easy?" Ann asks as she withdraws, her smile still as beautiful as ever. It's a smile that can light up any room, a smile that makes Akira blink twice still, when he feels the press of her genuine happiness. In its shadow are creases of resignation. She knows her friends will wait for her forever if need be.

Her career won't.

Akira will miss her. He will miss her so much.

"Take care, Ann."

"Bye, Akira!" Ann waves, and steps into the sleek black van that has been idling patiently for them to say their farewells. Her manager in the van nods at him with a smile, before closing the door.

Akira watches her leave before turning to walk back alone, accompanying his older self as he trudges down the rest of the path breathing in the summer humidity. He doesn't know what his older self is thinking, though he can guess from the mix of emotions in his chest.

The university truly isn't far, though Akira does spend a little more time skirting through the campus to the back-reaches. He opens the door to an old greenhouse with keys that he digs out from his bag and steps inside. Dim lights switch on, and Akira leaves the dream after watching his older self dig fingers into the soil, face concentrated as he carefully measures gauges and notes down numbers he doesn't understand.

Akira wakes up with the lingering echoes of bittersweetness in his chest, with Morgana somehow migrated to lie over his neck as he slept. His tail curls over his nose. Gently lifting Morgana off so he could breathe better, Akira gets up and reaches for his phone to stare at his contacts list for a while.

Then, with thoughts in his mind, he stretches and gets up, preparing to start the day ahead.

Akechi usually spends Sundays in the Metaverse – either in Wakaba's Mementos room to stock up on his inventory or roaming around the new depths he can achieve after becoming the Detective Prince. It's not as difficult as it could be – there are shortcuts from each rest station to the entrance that makes navigating the different stretches of Mementos easier, but it is still generally time-consuming as he searches out people Shido want to target.

Akira had both Futaba and Morgana to indicate where Shadows could be. All Akechi had was a hunch from Morrigan's half-helpful (generally confused) guesses and Robin Hood's utterly useless optimistic bursts of encouragement.

His usual Sunday occupations make it easier for Akechi to sneak out for the afternoon, however, having lucked out and found Shido's target – an old congressman who had stubbornly withheld information about some dubious policies that were implemented some seven years back – on only the second layer of Mementos.

It lets him leave Wakaba's room early, unloading any loot he found in a growing pile of trash in the corner (Akira had been one of those people who couldn't leave a piece of loot behind, and would probably like it if he gave it all as a gift later) before slipping back up into Shibuya station.

He brought a loose cap today that he pulls over his light-coloured hair. His jumper today is one of Saito's hand-made ones from last Christmas, a thick affair of grey wool with cartoon trees growing out from the bottom. It swallows him like none of his usual fashion choices does, and alongside a pair of black jeans and a casual gait, he doesn't think even Shido's agents will place him as their first suspect as 'Goro Akechi', the image-conscious detective extraordinaire.

Akira is standing at the end of Central Street, hands in his pockets as he examines the movie selection available. He already has his bag slung over his shoulder, a familiar cat's head sticking out to peer at the movie selections with him.

"Hmm, it seems we're just in time to see Tanktop Millionaire," comes Morgana's childish tones. "It's a story about a boy who became a 'Tanktop Millionaire' from the money he won from a quiz show…"

Akira hasn't acknowledged him yet when he tilts his head towards Morgana, thinking.

"There aren't any horror movies," Akira says, eyes roving over the movie selection on display again, and Morgana sighs.

"I mean, I bet you can also improve your guts if you watch a horror movie, but is that what you really want to watch when you're watching a movie with someone?"

Akechi takes a moment to indulge in nostalgia – Akira has always been less fashion-conscious than the rest of them, and the black jacket, shirt and loose jeans combo is probably the only casual outfit in his closet – before he carefully notes to himself to ignore everything Morgana says and steps up.

"Hello, Akira-kun," Akechi smiles, one of his brighter ones when Akira turns around and blinks. Then he blinks again when he looks at Akechi in his cap and jumper before Morgana gives a slight whistle.

"He sure looks different from TV," Morgana says. "This is your detective ace friend, Goro Akechi, right? I thought he'd come in a suit or something."

Akira nods slightly to Morgana, before visibly stilling himself and swallowing. Since Akira was obviously marshalling his thoughts, Akechi doesn't take offence as he lets his eyes drift naturally to the blue eyes peering over Akira's shoulder.

"Did you adopt a cat already, Akira-kun?" He laughs, stepping closer and reaching out a hand as if Morgana was any other cat. "Is it friendly to pats?"

Akira nods, and Akechi does something he has never done – pet Morgana.

Morgana's fur is surprisingly soft, warm like all animals are. He sees why Futaba's first greeting is always to pinch Morgana's cheeks – there's a surprising amount of fluff that makes Akechi slightly curious how Morgana would look wet.

"His name is Morgana," Akira offers, stepping a little closer to let Akechi have easier access to his bag. Morgana himself has at least pretended to like the scratches Akechi is doing around his neck. Standing close like this, he can smell the public bath soaps that often steamed out in clouds opposite Le Blanc from Akira. It's distinctly familiar, a smell that feels homey and safe, and the adrenaline that always accompanies Akechi out of Mementos calms down a little alongside it.

"Hello, Morgana," Akechi smiles down at Morgana's large blue eyes that were watching him with uncanny intelligence, before stepping back out of Akira's personal space. "Isn't Morgana the name of King Arthur's half-sister from Arthurian legend? Why name your cat with a female name, Akira-kun?"

"Hey!" Morgana yelps, visibly bristling. "It's a perfectly manly name, thank you very much!"

Akira's face breaks away from its neutrality into a small smirk.

"It's a perfectly manly name, apparently," Akira says, teasing as he adjusts the bag on his shoulder to a startled squawk from Morgana before he nods at Akechi's attire. "You look different today."

"Ah, my apologies if I look out-of-sorts," Akechi replies, flattening the soft wool of the jumper with his hands. "I've been getting a lot of attention in the public when I go outside in my school uniform or my more professional wear for my internship lately, and I didn't wish to include that bother on our outing today. This jumper doesn't seem very 'Goro Akechi-like', so I wore this out instead."

Akira shakes his head with a small smile. "No, you look good. I was just surprised. Do you want to watch Tanktop Millionaire? There're no horror movies on right now."

Did Akira like horror movies in particular? Akechi wonders while agreeing. It's not as if he agreed to Akira's outing for the sake of any particular movie anyway.

The movie theatre is moderately seated, though the row they pick has enough empty seats that Akira can place Morgana on the seat on the other side of him. Akira is a quiet watcher – Akechi would expect nothing else, with Akira's intense focus on anything he does – but Morgana is unexpectedly chatty. In any particular scene that strikes his fancy, Morgana would say a comment or muse on someone's characterisation, and many tense scenes were ruined by Morgana's outraged cries of 'how could he do that?!'.

It's not as if the movie is unappealing – it's a foreign film, and Akechi's familiar enough with English to follow most of the film without relying too much on the subtitles. The family depicted in the film struggled with his own circumstances in a world split into hierarchies borne of extreme capitalist wealth. Tanktop Millionaire is a story of a boy's courage despite a life of desperation and despair, of transcending barriers that no-one thought he could overcome. Of believing in himself despite all the spiteful people around him.

He doesn't solve any of the societal problems that birthed his circumstances, nor does he do anything revolutionary with the money that he wins. The money is just a means to an end in a film filled with discrimination and extreme poverty.

"How does a little kid have guts like that?" He hears Morgana ask. Akechi watches the boy in front of him protest against the police and has an easy answer.

Desperation.

When you only had one chance and you'd rather burn to ashes instead of fading out of the one thing you care for, there's nothing you wouldn't do.

When the Bollywood number finishes the movie on an optimistic note, Akira doesn't move from his seat even when the credits roll. There's a tiny shift in his body language, in his thoughtful look as he watches the names crawl up the screen that has Akechi curious.

"What did you think of the film, Akira-kun?" Akechi asks.

Even though the theatre turned up the lights and most of their fellow movie watchers have started to clear the theatre, Akira still somehow exists in a small bubble of quiet calm when he turns his head to look at him. His hair has grown out a little to cover his eyes, but the directness of his unblinking gaze still unfailingly rivets him in place to listen as Akira rolls the question through his head.

"I liked it," is all Akira offers. Akechi immediately stifles his amused laugh at such an answer. He's always aware that Morgana is watching them curiously, tail swishing as he makes his own conclusions, and he doesn't want to make too large of a first impression. Akechi puts Morgana's judgment aside for now as he puts his full attention on Akira.

"Nothing more?" Akechi asks, and Akira frowns a little, eyes flicking back to the credits.

"What did you think?" Akira asks, and Akechi turns to face the screen himself.

"It's obviously meant to be an inspiring story," Akechi muses. "Despite how all the people in his society decided to see his life, perhaps in spite of what life he's been born into, he doesn't give up on the matters that he cares for. It's a tale of once in a lifetime odds that doesn't shy away from the brutal reality that he lives in. As a personal, human-centric story, I find that I appreciate it as well," Akechi says to Akira's attentive ears. "Japan's circumstances are obviously very different, but some parts of the narrative strike chords within me."

Akira reads between the lines, dark eyes intent. "Not the whole story?"

"I usually read reviews and such for films," Akechi admits. "I'm more of a reader than anything else, books, articles and otherwise. It's often because when I read books the issues that are presented in front of me are much less prominent as sources of entertainment. Although we watched a journey of a boy overcoming harsh circumstances and attaining his wishes despite overwhelming odds, the reality of those harsh circumstances remains unaddressed. Although we see horrifying injustice, we will hardly think of ways to enact longer-lasting social change, global, locally or otherwise."

Akira takes that in, western pop filling the air between them before the song transitions into one of the more wistful pieces of the film's soundtrack.

"Exposure is important," Akira says, ultimately, before nudging Akechi's elbow. "I don't know how accurate the movie is, but it was interesting to learn a little about someone I'd never be."

Akira pauses, before he continues, leaning in a little until their shoulders touch.

"I think it's enough if you watch something like this and resolve yourself to be a better person," is what Akira says next. "Art is a personal experience – it's as political as you make it."

Akira's curls are surprisingly close when he turns his head to answer.

"You always tend to surprise me, Akira-kun," Akechi says, nudging Akira to sit straight in a move that is ignored, as Akira continues to slouch sideways. "Most would flounder when I introduce such subjective topics such as the political agenda of entertainment, but you always have your own, clear-cut answers."

Akira blinks up at him. The angle shifts the light onto the length of his eyelashes before a tilt of his head hides his eyes.

"You shouldn't expect so much from others," is Akira's inexplicable answer. "You can't shape another's opinions, so all you can do is shape your own."

Akechi blinks, before laughing.

"Ah, but Akira-kun. Our expectations of others are how relationships work. What's the solution when you're still idealistic enough to expect at least some semblance of goodness from every stranger you meet?"

"Don't get disappointed when people aren't as you thought," is Akira's steady reply, with nary a pause.

Akechi swallows, looking away like he was interested in the infinite scroll of names in front of them.

"So even if you found out that your friend was actually a horrible criminal?" Akechi asks, and he feels Akira's slight shrug against his arm.

"It doesn't invalidate the friendship," Akira replies as the credits seem to finally close, music flaring into some orchestral finale. "It just means that they didn't trust me enough to tell me yet."

Trust again.

Something in the back of Akechi's mind is hysterically laughing, his smile a pasted warm thing as he truly registers the heavy warmth from that one spot on his shoulder. A warmth who is Akira, finally in Tokyo where he belongs, the man of friendships, open hands, and acceptance no matter how deep the hurt goes. It is insufferable how admirable his values are whenever Akechi digs down.

It's even more insufferable when he knows that unlike many others, Akira has never been a hypocrite. Each and every one of those values were actionable in his daily life.

"You truly are…" Akechi trails off, his voice managing to stay calm as he lifts one hand that threatens to tremble.

But Morgana is there watching them with uncanny interest, so he forcefully clenches his hand over Akira's shoulder and pushes him off gently.

"The credits have finished, we should make way for the next round," Akechi says, and Akira gets up with a roll of his head, letting Morgana jump back into the bag before slinging it over his shoulder. They chatter as they head out into the late afternoon, Central Street greeting them with a wave of noise from the previous cool silence of the theatre. Akechi pulls his hat low.

"Thank you for your invitation, Akira-kun," Akechi smiles now, turning back to face Akira. "It's come at quite a stressful time in my life, and I didn't realise just how much I needed some friendly company. Your company is a pleasure, as always."

There's a brief moment when Akira freezes as his eyes focus somewhere else before he responds with a small smile.

"Anytime."

Akechi leaves then, walking down one of the side streets instead of straight back down to the Shibuya underground. He hears Morgana's voice before he rounds the corner, however.

"He's an interesting guy, isn't he? I see you're good friends already. I've never heard you talk so much!"

Akira replies softly, and Morgana's bright voice laughs.

"Reeaally now? I've never seen you so touchy with anyone, you know… All right, let's go home."

Fool Rank 3 – Akira Kurusu

Shido's Palace is an immense and overwhelming expanse of ruin and wreckage underneath a beautiful sunset of oranges and purples and reds. The clouds cover the world in a roiling blanket of golds and pinks that's reflected off the crystal waves swallowing the world, only dipping into burnt darkness at the edge of a horizon hinting at the inexorable night. This cruise exists in the last hour of the last day, a beacon and haven for the surviving elite from the oncoming threat of the unknown. It's beautifully symbolic in a way that surprises him. Many Palaces are twisted and cruel affairs, hiding torture dungeons, traps, corpses and dark secrets.

He stands at the very tip of the bow and breathes in the salt air, the lights of the Diet Building behind him chasing shadows out of the sky. Waves part and splash, and the ship cruises ever onward to a destination that no-one can fathom, over the watery mirages of crumbled and destroyed buildings that have sunk under a rippling sea. Something in this destruction always strikes something in him; a tragic beauty that Akechi can't ever deny when he visits Shido's Palace.

If he cared to waste thoughts on Shido, Akechi would wonder what Shido thought constituted that burgeoning night if the world was already in ruin.

But he's wasted enough time, so he turns around and walks inside. The doors of the Diet Building part and he enters Shido's Palace, transforming into Robin's regalia.

As Shido often does, he gives Akechi a time frame to accomplish his tasks rather than a solid deadline. In a move of faux kindness, Shido has given him until the first week of May to finish it.

Time with Akira cleared his anger enough from his original rage at seeing Shion being held in the hands of Shido's spy. Enough so to realise that no war has ever been fought without information.

No preparation, no plan is ever complete without enough intelligence, and to save Hinata with the least compromise to himself, he needs something more. Something foolproof.

The reception is as dazzling and opulent as he remembers, even though there are fewer patrons than before. Shido had made his informational services a business much like how he'd sold his mental breakdowns from his past life, and has successfully gathered more than a few supporters this way. However, his limited uses have had a greater effect than he expected – instead of the dozens of people that stood around the reception, there are only five or six.

"I'm so honoured to be allowed on Congressman Shido's ship!" One of the ladies laughs as he passes. "It's still early days to be part of this ark, so I'm sure we'll all have more opportunities to rise before any others get here."

"We're all in this together," a man nods with enthusiasm. "Shido-san has the undoubted power to rise up against all the others, so it was smart of us to join his cause so early."

Their praises circle one another, not to be outdone, and Akechi steps boldly through the middle, right up the golden staircases to the main hallway. The Shadows in Shido's Palace ignore him when they see him pass, some of the ones holding food and drink even offering him some.

"Where's the IT President?" He asks one of the Shadows, and the Shadow bows before pointing the way towards the VIP residential rooms. Akechi's smile has a touch of irony as he passes it. How amusing. Even though their relationship had broken down so much, Shido still subconsciously gave him a level of importance and authority in his affairs.

Akechi goes about his rounds, recognising most of the faces he meets. Chigusa loitering near the bar, a thin man with a vicious streak who had authority over choosing what TV shows would air every season. Akimoto, a large balding man who had been pulled in by Shido's promises for blackmail material against his mother so that he could become the next heir of his company. Sano, a beautiful woman who was also the secretary of one of the Prime Minister's aides. He even sees Okumura surrounded by his own crowd of enamoured cognitions, hanging onto his every word as he proudly boasted of Big Bang Burger's annual growth.

Various others, less impressive, chatter amongst themselves. The restaurant is already cordoned, explicitly stated to only cater for VIP guests, but the Shadow presents no resistance when Akechi walks through.

He gleans enough just overhearing the Shadows and cognitions in the restaurant talk. Some marvel over Shido's impressive grasp of information ('there is nothing he can't find out!' One of the women squeals in excitement), while others boasted that Shido had allowed them to use a precious comatose event, basking in the admiration of the others from what they saw as blatant favour.

"The transport minister is such a pain," politician Ooe complains. "He's been blocking my proposals for the last year because he keeps saying the changes don't benefit the public. That's a stupid idea when we can line our own pockets instead, right?"

"I completely understand," Akechi nods at his dinner table, waving the server over for more wine. The Pinot Noir provided pairs well with the desserts in front of them, and politician Ooe is more than happy to take an indulgent sip. The man basks in the elegant atmosphere of the dining hall, smacking his lips to the rippling chords of the live piano in front of them. "Shido-san seems to be planning his campaign following your wishes?"

"Of course, my dear boy!" Politician Ooe laughs. "I won't brag, but I have his right ear, you know. Shido-san listens to my advice on everything."

A blatant lie, Akechi thinks behind his pleasant smile, politely topping off his glass. And they both know it.

"Then you must know what Shido-san is planning next," Akechi asks smoothly, taking off his mask and leaning forward in interest. There had been rumours that politician Ooe had an uncanny interest in beautiful boys and girls, and it shows when Ooe's eyes flick around his face before swallowing. "Won't you tell me, Ooe-san?" He asks, tone low, admiring. It's a disgusting glance he receives in return, but the memory of Hinata holding Shion keeps him in place. He adjusts his posture, slanting his smile into something more gentle and beautiful.

"Wha-what do you want to know, Akechi-kun?" Ooe asks, and Akechi's swallowing the triumph rising in his chest when a hand clamps on his shoulder.

"That's enough," the voice says, and Akechi tenses. "Thank you for your patience, Ooe-san, I need to borrow him for a few minutes."

"Two Akechi-kuns?" Ooe says with confusion, and Akechi is resigned when he looks over his shoulder.

His own face looks back, eyes blank and soulless, before the face cracks into a wide, mocking smile. It doesn't even take a moment for Akechi to glance down and see the shape of the gun that shot him dead through his uniform's coat.

His heart beats loud in his ears.

"Hello. It's nice to meet you at last… Goro Akechi. Frankly, I expected to see you far sooner. Let's take this elsewhere, shall we?"

"This shit's the best, man! Ramen is life!" Ryuji exclaims, loud over the sound of other patrons eating ramen with them. None of them really pay Ryuji any attention, though the chef in front of them raises an eyebrow at his regular. "Light soup like this really gets your body goin' again after a good run, y'know. We used to come all the way out here after practice and…" Ryuji pauses, and Akira glances next to him to see Ryuji sigh. "Uh, I guess that's all in the past…"

Having finished his own bowl of ramen around when Ryuji did, he watched his new friend as Ryuji struggled to find the words before giving up.

"By the way," Ryuji says instead. "I've seen Nakaoka around a few times, but for some reason it don't look like he's getting along with the others."

Akira continues listening as they delve straight back into the effect that Kamoshida had made over his friend's lives. Ann's struggles with Shiho and feeling strong, having had her confidence stomped on for a whole year under constant threats of sexual abuse. Now Ryuji, feeling guilty for defending himself.

It fuels the low-burning sense of suffocation he'd had when Akira realised there had been no-one willing to take his side during court, and he lets this frustration transform into satisfaction that at least for Ann and Ryuji, they had actually been able to do something about it this time. That they had seen he was merely a pathetic man, after all. Kamoshida's Shadow had grovelled on his knees in front of Ann, had apologised to Ryuji. Had promised to turn himself in for all the crimes he'd been dodging.

This couldn't be anything but justice.

"You're doing great though," Akira offers his fellow outcast at school, watching Ryuji brighten up with a small smile.

"For real though, it's been a shit ton of fun! Hanging out with you guys is so freakin' cool!" Ryuji says at the end, his bright earnestness taking Akira slightly aback. He wonders if it's a city thing, to be so straightforward about their feelings. Goro had been the first one, blinking inquisitively at him over his dinner table as he talked about Hegel, seeing in Akira something he'd never really felt.

Ryuji had a different type of sparkle and expectation. Goro was all calm smiles, introspective thoughts and prying inquiry. Ryuji was a blast of energy and earnestness, dragging him off to train, to the Metaverse, to enact revenge, to go on investigations.

His former classmates would laugh to hear anyone describe him as 'cool'.

The conversation peters out after agreeing to train with him again, and they step out of the small ramen shop to see the large, dark clouds in the sky. Ryuji squints up at the darkening bellies of the clouds, heavy with rain, and sniffs. "Whoa, it's kinda cloudy, huh," he says. "It kinda smells like it'll rain too. I'll dig out my umbrella, just in case."

It's a sound idea since Ogikubo station was a ten-minute walk from the ramen store, and Akira does the same. He has his blue umbrella in hand when Ryuji pulls out his black one with flourish.

"A-ha!" Ryuji exclaims triumphantly. "Found it!"

Then it promptly clatters onto the floor when Ryuji tries to zip up his bag, and Akira bends over to pick it up. Then he blinks.

There's a name written on the handle, in girly hand-writing. He's seen Ryuji's chicken-scratch, and it's definitely not thin and flowy, with love-hearts on either side.

Goro Akechi.

He blinks, pointing at the name, and Ryuji laughs.

"Yeah, that's not my name cos the umbrella's a gift. There was a really nice guy that helped me out when it was absolutely pourin'. Made a shitty day better, but I haven't seen him since sooo…"

"Did he have brown hair?" Akira asks, and Ryuji frowns in thought.

"I… think so? He looked like he was older too, from one of those fancy private schools. His uniform was all neat lookin'."

Akira stays silent before he takes out his phone and types in a general search. The moment he types 'Goro Akechi', the whole search box is filled with article headlines and news, a few rare photographs of Akechi directly under the search bar and he shows it to Ryuji.

"Yeah, I remember now! He looked exactly the same as this guy!" Ryuji laughs before he looks again. "Wait a second, Goro Akechi? Isn't that your friend that Ann said was famous or something?"

Then the pieces obviously click in his mind as he looks from the umbrella still in Akira's hand, the photos on his phone, and his own memories and Ryuji takes a step back with a loud squawk.

"Whaaat?! I met a celebrity without knowing it?!"

Ryuji reaches forward and Akira lets him take his phone without resistance, watching Ryuji as he scrolls through the articles. "Hot damn, he's impressive. No wonder he could dig up that stuff with Kamoshida…" Ryuji looks up as he gives him his phone back, smiling. "Not only that, he's nice in real life too. He's one cool guy, huh?"

Akira nods, a small smile on his lips when he looks at Goro's photograph, a candid shot where he's talking seriously with another member of the police.

Handing back the umbrella after a second, Ryuji laughs. "Hey, if you're friends with him, why not invite him over one day?" Ryuji grins. "I can thank him, and with him around we'll have no problem chatting up some chicks!"

"…"

Akira turns away, and Ryuji slaps his back playfully.

"Juuust jokin'. Bye, bro, see ya later!"

Akechi follows his cognitive self down the bewildering maze of Shido's inner corridors and notices his school uniform is perfectly recreated in replica, his walking mannerisms, even his hairdo. He has never underestimated Shido's ability to observe, but there's a chill in his spine when he realises how closely Shido had observed him after all.

Other guests on his ship had varying versions of the same sort of dresses and suits. Minor imperfections for faces are only just enough to distinguish one generic face from another. Shido only cares so much, after all, for people with less influence and wealth, and repeating faces and clothing is only to be expected for minor members of Shido's conspiracy. A long as each cognitive body houses a different personality, it's enough for Shido himself.

In contrast, someone like politician Ooe had been recreated with detail. Immaculate suit a shade more elegant than the others, expensive wristwatch and other accessories all present to paint a slightly vain man, cocky, bloated with self-importance.

Akechi is modelled in the same level of detail, from the crest of his school that's emblazoned on his jacket, to the sweep of his hair to his preferred side. Shido's cognition has mastered even the slightly taunting smile he gives to his opponents when he's approaching a deal. The face is much colder than what he usually wears when his cognitive self glances back.

"We're nearly there," Shido's cognition says emotionlessly, steps silent on the thick carpet. His cognitive version leads him through the winding hallways of Shido's Palace, making their way past countless statues of Shido in various waiting rooms posed to look down at anyone who came through. Guests are rarer in the more residential parts of Shido's cruise, Shadows bowing them through when they see the pair. They proceed through the Palace in silence.

"You don't seem surprised to see me," the cognition says, eyes sliding towards him without a falter in his pace. "Expected this, hmm?"

"A man like Shido would never let someone with my powers loose without some sort of security," Akechi replies smoothly, nonchalantly sliding one of his hands over his heart. The gloves don't hinder the warmth he feels, and he meets this cognitive Goro's eyes with a gaze carefully shuttered. "I knew there would be some sort of measure in place if I ever entered his Palace to do as I wished. Should I be flattered that he thinks so highly of me that I am my own security?"

Goro chuckles and gives him his own smile, smoothly rounding a corner. "Haven't you guessed already, Goro Akechi? I started off as more of a brainless fool, you know," the cognition says, taunting rasp licking every word. "Then I grew from a tool that was ready to sacrifice myself for the Captain's whims to who I am now. Even that Cleaner avoids me on the ship because of how dangerous he sees you. How… uncontrollable. And how much more appealing you are for it."

Cognitive Goro laughs, a cynical, gleeful sound, and the next corner he turns he nonchalantly places a hand on the wall. With a gentle squeeze the wall cracks, chunks breaking apart in his murderer's hands who has evidently become so much more. An opponent perhaps difficult even for himself, with both Robin and Morrigan as strong as they are. Akechi swallows and puts his hand down to adjust the white gloves on his hands. He doesn't reply.

"You've surpassed his expectations in every way," Goro says, eyes flat and disinterested again. "Aren't you excited about that? Shido thought you would, but you keep surprising him. Praise isn't your end goal… is it?"

This is Shido's Palace. Matters here can be subconsciously known by Shido himself. He keeps silent, but his cognitive self allows his eyes to roam, taking in something that makes the cognition smirk humourlessly.

"Thought so. And here you are. Shido's finally found a boundary that you care about so that you'll be less predictable, more controllable. Hinata Osumi and her son… reminds us of mother, doesn't it?"

Akechi clenches his hands. The fine fabric of his gloves prevent his nails from digging into his palms, and he keeps his expression placid.

"He thinks you hate him, you know," Goro says, voice dipping into some amusement. "That man has tried to shape his cognition of you into the perfect machine, but his subconscious denies the confidence he's trying to fake. So I hate him too, for some woman that I only feel disgust for that you obviously love."

They turn another corner, pass another one of Shido's statues. It opens out into an indoor communal area, wide balconies looking over plush seating and tasteful décor, and something in Akechi's mind clicks. He looks up, eyes narrowed at the back in front of him.

"You aren't following his orders right now," Akechi states more than questions.

The Goro in front of him hums, mocking as he turns fully away from Akechi trailing behind. He adjusts his black gloves just like how Akechi did a few minutes prior, straightens his suit.

"I wonder," he says, tapping his chin in thought. "Can you truly trust the cognition of a liar like yourself, Goro Akechi?"

Akechi falls silent again when the cognition stops in front of a door in the VIP suite. There's anticipation in his eyes when he bows mockingly at him.

"Here's your ticket out, dear Detective Prince," the cognition's face twists into a smirk, a mad light tinting his previously passive eyes. Akechi doesn't flinch when his own voice, mock friendly, leans forward to whisper in his ear. "I'll be waiting at the entrance."

The cognition moves away with sleek grace, an assassin's pace in the way he disappears so quickly. He leaves Akechi alone in front of the VIP suite, no patrolling Shadow or guest in sight. There's laughter coming out of the door, some sort of party perhaps, and Akechi is prepared for anything when he opens the door.

There is a party of cognitions inside, just like he suspected, with a whole cohort of Shadows waiting on them.

"You're so cute, Ai-chan," one of the cognitions is laughing, an older man who has his back facing the door in the large lounge room that they were in. Another few businessmen sit alongside him, all having a girl of some sort on their laps, and they all fawn and flutter their lashes, coquettish as they play with the men they were with.

"Only for you, Segawa-san," the maid on his lap replies with a laugh and Akechi's eyes widen.

He recognises that voice.

The man shifts, and he sees Hinata Osumi.

This cognitive Hinata sees him the same time Akechi sees her, and she gasps like he's never seen Hinata do before, mouth wide and fake as she places a hand over her mouth. The insincerity grounds him immediately, and Akechi sorts his thoughts in order.

He can hardly expect a man like Shido to have any good cognition of the women he's been with, let alone a maid he used and thrown away. It's even obvious just by how Shido sees her. Her body seems improbably proportioned with her tone saccharine, a far cry from Hinata's true self. Akechi's about to close the door and leave it at that – the cognitive Goro was obviously tricking him – when Hinata's cognition points at him and giggles.

"Oh look, Segawa-san! It's the boy that I used to get two million out of Shido-san!"

Akechi's hand freezes on the door knob

"That stupid boy you were talking to me about?" Segawa replies, voice jovial as his hands stroked Hinata's waist, and she nods.

"Yes," Hinata says as she settles her head on Segawa's meaty shoulder, eyes never leaving Akechi's own, watching as he tried to swallow around the breath suddenly caught in his chest. "Shido-san heard that I probably reminded him a bit of his own sob story, so I'm selling him a little information on Akechi-kun to get more benefits, you know what I mean?"

"Haha, Ai-chan! You're so sly!"

"Thank you, Segawa-san," Hinata bats her eyelashes, and Akechi blinks because the world has gone somewhat wavery.

For some reason it's hard to breathe.

He stops closing the door and steps through, and no-one in the room stops him when he walks to this grossly inaccurate version of Hinata. Akechi knows this. Instead of a loving mother whose face lit up whenever she was in the vicinity of her child, instead of Hinata's slightly dry streak and tired eyes, this is merely a disgusting cognitive version of Hinata as a sexual plaything from Shido's mind, a man who places the women he's been with as less than dirt.

He can't stop himself from asking.

"What do you mean, Osumi-san?"

Hinata's replying smile is wide and scornful.

"What? There were repeated Meta-readings over at Shujin Academy while I was conked out sick?!" Futaba exclaims, and she dives for her computer immediately, fingers flashing over the keys until she's pulled up data records that she's been recording for the past few months they've been running. "But there haven't been any comatose incidents! Comas are usually immediate after GA or whoever goes into the Metaverse, right?"

Futaba squints at the readings, the spikes.

"Shut up for a sec, Baka-Kami. These readings are way bigger than they ever were. It's as if… more than one person was accessing the Metaverse at the same time."

Futaba is mostly silent as she listens to Narukami's response – half of it is useful, the other half is just some sort of drivel-wisdom that sounds like it came straight from a Meiji Temple charm, and Futaba rolls her eyes.

"Why would I want you to check it out for me? I know you live far away from Aoyama Itchome. Doesn't it take half an hour to get from Tokyo U to Shibuya? I live pretty close!"

Narukami's voice is uncommonly solemn when he replies.

"It could be dangerous," says the other. "Even if you're a fifty-foot tall yeti-goliath with rock-hard guns, we had already concluded that it was… odd that GA was the only new Persona user when a new Meta-normal incident rose. Now it seems like his teammates were just late."

"Don't underestimate my rock-hard guns," Futaba pouts, fingers pausing on the keyboard as she had already started hacking into the school's database.

"You've already read about Inaba. Anyone who touched a television during that year had the possibility of going into the Television World," Narukami says blandly. Background noise cuts off when Futaba hears the sound of a car door slam and Narukami asking a taxi driver to drive him to Todaimae Station. "I'm the only operative active in Tokyo right now, and I'm not going to send a kid over to investigate a possible opening to a new Metaverse that, in our most conservative estimates, has already housed a Persona user using it for evil for more than a year."

"Stop talking reasonable at me," Futaba says, shoulders drooping. "It's not my fault I don't have cool God calling powers. And don't call GA evil."

"I'll be in Aoyama Itchome in approximately forty minutes," Narukami replies, and Futaba could see his stupidly calm face already, all determined and kinda cool and about to be doing things that she wasn't allowed to do and Futaba wants to punch a pillow.

"Call me when you're there!" Futaba says into the receiver before she cuts the call without saying goodbye, flinging the phone onto her bed and curling up.

It's so frustrating that she's always left out whenever something happened. She was the one who started all this in the first place, chasing the leads for her mom, for GA. All she wanted to do was find out the truth – and hoo boy, there was so much truth out there with the real explanation of what Apathy Syndrome was and the Inaba Murders – but it wasn't her truth. Her mom was still sleeping, GA was still missing, her mom's cognitive research was still mysteriously disappeared.

Sure, she might have gotten a little obsessive… Futaba glances around her room and winces at all the papers she's stuck around her room, all cognitive pscience and trackers on the coma cases. Okay, she's gotten a lot obsessive, to the point that Sojiro was regretting caving in to her request for learning her first year of high-school online, but she's so sick of being left in the dark!

She's not going to give up though, Futaba thinks as her computer loads her directly into the school databases. There, she hooks herself straight up to the security cameras and their footage.

First though.

"Sojirooooo! When's dinner?" Futaba calls out her door when she hears Sojiro opening the front door, and he chuckles.

"Already so keen to eat yet another day of curry?"

"Of course!" Futaba calls back, crawling forward enough to peek her head around the staircase. Sojiro was still shucking off his shoes. "Curry is the best!"

"Give me an hour and we'll eat together, okay?"

"Okaaaay!"

"So?" His cognitive self asks when Akechi joins him, standing at the bow just as he had been before. Wind blew through their hair as they both look at the drowned city in front of them. "Wasn't that helpful?"

Akechi thinks to what Cognitive Hinata had revealed and translated it all.

"Shido had been preparing her as my proverbial leash ever since she became pregnant, hasn't he?" Akechi asks, tone carefully neutral, and this cognitive version of himself wears a sardonic smirk in his place.

"Yes," Goro shrugs, watching him. "Disgusting isn't it?"

"She accepted the deal for the money, a job and an apartment probably because she is being threatened with the same threat as I am," Akechi muses, staring up at clouds feeling strangely hollow. "The Hinata Osumi I know is fiercely independent and hates Shido nearly as much as I do. There," Akechi reaches for a reason, an answer, "must be a reason why she did what she chose."

Perhaps it had even been the same photograph of Shion that Shido had shown him. Perhaps she just loved her son so much that she would sacrifice her friends for him.

"But you'll never know, will you?" Goro finishes for him.

Akechi resents that Shido's cognition of him is accurate enough to voice all his inner doubts. That this Goro knows the thoughts that are flashing through his mind right now.

Was this another of Shido's traps? Had he predicted his reaction all along?

"Who knows how strong Shido's hold on her is," Goro continues, voice even and measured. "Maybe she's willing, which makes going up to her and asking about this deal dangerous. And even if she wasn't, if Shido got her to accept once, what's stopping her from being coerced twice?"

Goro doesn't stop watching him, head tilted and calculative. Akechi himself doesn't look down from where his eyes have stopped, at the point where the sky meets the sea. The horizon is as ominous as ever, the harsh end of glimmering waves.

"Hey. How does it feel to be betrayed?" This cognitive Goro asks, tone curious. Akechi doesn't reply.

Hinata had agreed to feed information to Shido. She had been the one to tell Shido about Akechi's 'fondness' for her son, leading to this predicament in the first place. She had also agreed to other tasks at Shido's request, and the only outstanding one was Shido's request for her to download something into his phone if she ever got a hand on it.

Betrayal was hard when there is a dearth of trust, and trust wasn't something Akechi has ever handed out easily.

How did betrayal feel?

Like bitterness, if he truly had to give this feeling a name. A disbelieving, numb weight placed on every thought, every movement.

This pervading, sickening clench in his lungs was what he'd given Akira.

How did you do it? Akechi wants to reach across the void and shake the Akira he knew, his Akira, the past Akira who he had lied to, shot, killed, and fought, and ask him 'How did you overcome this feeling? I wanted to kill you!' He wants to scream in his stupid, compassionate face, his offer to join the Thieves with just as much sincerity as ever after their fight, 'And all you did was give me another chance! How?!'

How did one forgive?

His cognitive double finally looks away, dropping the previous topic when it becomes obvious Akechi wasn't going to answer.

"What are you going to do?"

"Check the facts," Akechi replies flatly, and without another word, he takes out the Metaverse Navigator. The whole scene warps in front of him, melting from sunset to a dark night. He leaves the other Goro behind standing at the bow of Shido's apocalyptic pleasure cruise, re-emerging in a nondescript corner in front of the Diet Building. The air is solemn and serious from the grandeur of the building behind him, filled with suits and importantly dressed men and women who walk silently, heads bowed. A guard nods at him when he walks past, and Akechi smiles back before turning from the iron bars of the gate.

He sends a text, and a few minutes later he gets an answer.

[Hatake Tobe: Osumi's account doesn't hold two million]

[Hatake Tobe: but she does have access to one of Shido's side accounts that holds a few million]

[Hatake Tobe: Is there a problem with her that we need to address?]

A small spark of hope in his chest flickers and dies.

[Akechi: No, I'm just verifying something. Have a lovely evening, Hatake-san.]

A highbrow event on Saturday has Akechi at the edges of the party once again. Shido has found use for him showing his face as another demonstration of power – both over the police and the entertainment circle – and he's rubbed shoulders with the SIU Director enough for the evening.

He spots Haru sitting next to her fiancé, sitting as prim and proper as she could when the man next to her gesticulated, often leaning into her space and hooking an arm around her shoulder, or pressing kisses into her hair in overt gestures of affection. Haru never protests, eyes kept down as she focuses on finishing her plate of salmon.

Akechi managed to catch her eye one moment during dinner, and Haru had sat up straight. There was something in her posture and a half-determined glint in her eye that spoke of Noir that made Akechi expect—

But no, Sugimura had took her chin and turned her so she faced him, muttering something that's obviously not as affectionate as it looks, by the way Haru clenched her fork. Akechi watches, but honestly. He has too much on his plate to try and contact her with the SIU Director, Okumura, Sugimura, and several other businessmen who lived in Shido's pocket all watching.

He leaves the premises early, and just as he expects, Hinata stands at the exit.

"Osumi-san, my apologies for calling you here and keeping you waiting," Akechi says, hurrying forward with a wave and a bright smile.

"Eh, it's fine, Akechi-kun," Hinata shrugs, giving him a tired smile. She's still in her uniform, a professional combo of a black skirt and white shirt, her name tag pinned to her front pocket. She's keeping herself well, hair tied back professionally into a bun, makeup tastefully done. "I was working late tonight anyway, so I hired a babysitter for Shion."

"So it wasn't too much of an inconvenience for you to come over? There was something I needed to give you, but I just didn't have time…"

He blinks, looking down at his hands in exasperation.

"Oh, my greatest apologies. I left Saito-san's gift in one of the fridges. Hinata-san, can you hold my bag while I sprint back to the venue and retrieve it?" When he hands over his bag, Hinata's arm dips underneath the weight and Akechi laughs. "Sorry, is it heavy? I have a few textbooks in there, which is why I don't want it weighing me down. I'll be back soon with Saito's hamper, Osumi-san."

Akechi gives her a light bow before jogging off. He lingers in the staff lounge, taking his time retrieving the basket of chilled food before jogging back. Hinata stays standing there underneath the streetlights, bag held by the straps in both her hands. They exchange bags, and Akechi accompanies Hinata as they walk to the station.

"How have you and Shion been?" Akechi asks with friendly concern. His face is set in one of his warmer smiles. Hinata smiles back at him, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear.

"We've finally stabilised our routine, Shion and I," Hinata says with cheer that had been long-lost these past few months. Ever since she lost her job at the café, actually. "You and Saito don't need to worry too much anymore. Shion's stopped crying in the middle of the night, and I've finally managed to persuade my manager to give me more day-shifts. How about you, Akechi-kun?"

"Well, school started again," Akechi says thoughtfully, hand on his chin.

"And has that been a problem, Mister Honour Student?" Hinata asks, and they continue into a pleasant conversation, catching up with one another.

"This newfound fame is actually making meetups with friends very hard," Akechi says as they wait on the station platform for their train. It's not the most popular station – it was hardly Shibuya – and they find an abandoned stretch on the platform. Akechi fiddles with his phone as he talks, tapping through a few apps. When he reads what it says his face breaks out into a sardonic smile.

"May I ask a question, Osumi-san?" Akechi asks, looking up. "Do you regret meeting me?"

Hinata tilts her head in confusion at the question. "No, never. Why do you ask?"

"Why are you betraying me to Shido?" He asks genially, smile warm.

Five more minutes until the next train. There's a brush of stale air already that's pushing out from the tunnel behind them, and Hinata stands frozen with her eyes wide. Her small, heart-shaped face has turned pale in an instant, and it takes her a few moments before she can reply.

"W-what do you mean, Akechi-kun?"

"The phone in my hand is one that I once dropped into water," Akechi replies, tone still deliberately mild. "It still works, though not as efficiently, so I bought a new phone while wiping this one, and there shouldn't be anything on this device of significance, nor any data usage or activity either. Imagine my surprise when I checked the logs just now and saw that someone downloaded some small, unnamed application from the internet just half an hour ago? An application that I must note is one I'm quite familiar with for being malicious spyware. And there's really only one person in my life that would wish to spy on me."

Akechi meets her eyes then. There's anxiety in them, that familiar nervousness he's gotten used to seeing. He cracks into a wider smile.

"I've heard rumours but I've tried my best to first verify the facts myself. To catch you red-handed is, needless to say, disappointing, Osumi-san."

"Akechi-kun, please listen to me," Hinata starts, and Akechi nods.

"I'm listening, Osumi-san."

"I—Shido was threatening Shion," Hinata explains, swallowing through a clogged throat. "He was saying that he'd pile me with abuse charges and take Shion away. And, and that's not all, Akechi-kun. He was also threatening you – he was saying that he'd threaten to ruin your life by saying you were with a sex worker like me, a-and," Hinata says desperately, in a tumble of words. "You saved me, Akechi-kun. You and Saito-san – the both of you are the only two people who reached out to me when I needed it most, but you did it first. Without you I'd still be in that pile of snow, wondering where I'd live—"

Akechi has closed his eyes.

"So. Are you saying you did it for me?"

"Y-yes! Or no, I'm not placing the blame on you, Akechi-kun…"

"Do you know why Shido is so fixated on me, Osumi-san?" Akechi says. "I have access to a set of skills that Shido desperately wants to use, but I have been resisting until now because their use brings great consequence. A few days ago Shido sent me a photograph of Shion being held in the hands of one of his agents. I felt… angry. I felt hopeless. I was going to use everything in my power to break you free of Shido, Hinata-san. Because that is Justice, to help you protect what's precious to you. Because that was the right thing to do."

Hinata opens her mouth a little, before it closes again, wordless. Her hands have closed over the straps of her bag, small hands clenched tight.

"I was going to listen to his demands and cause an accident that may lead to the deaths of hundreds of people because of you, Hinata-san," Akechi continues. "I was willing to sacrifice my values and morals because I am an orphan that came from a single-parent family and watching your love for Shion revived some more optimistic memories in my heart. But to know now that you fed information to Shido, be willing to plant spyware into my phone, and accept two million yen because of your son, and as you say, for me…"

One minute left. The station billows with a warm wind, and Akechi looks straight at Hinata. Tears are overflowing from her face as she looks at him, and Akechi gives her an insincere smile.

"Osumi-san, I am not a generous person, but I am trying to understand. So I am being honest. Why didn't you tell me?"

"I couldn't," Hinata replies immediately, reaching out a hand before quickly retracting it back to clutch her bag. "Please believe me, Akechi-kun, I've barely touched the two million yen but how could I approach you when I've already accepted it?"

It's not like he doesn't understand, intellectually. Shido took advantage of Hinata's ignorance of the sheer stakes involved and threatened the two things that she valued. One, her son. Two, her friendships. Then he tied her down with pride by making her accept two million yen, making it shameful, make her case unbelievable if mentioned to anyone else.

Akechi still can't get rid of the bitter feeling in his mouth.

"Osumi-san, Shido is using you to manipulate me. Without me in the picture, he will most probably leave you alone. I have a solution for all our current predicaments, but we will need to part ways here. It seems like that is the best option for our continued safety anyway. Will that be alright with you?"

Akechi doesn't truly wait for her reply, bowing to her formally when the train comes thundering into the station tunnel.

He's thought long and hard. Swallowed the bitterness that came with thoughts of Hinata feeding information to Shido, concocted his plan to test if Hinata would truly do everything that Shido told her to do.

Perhaps if he was a greater person – if he was Akira – he would be able to move on, easily forgive even attempted murder on his life. Maybe he would then continue his aborted plans to contact Kirijo again, reach out to Futaba, argue a deal with Fusatsune.

But Akechi has never been that person.

He steps onto the subway, and there's a part of him that wonders if Hinata will step on behind him. Would insist on explaining her point, her part of the story, in a way that even the small bitter stone that was his heart would be touched.

She never does.

The next day, there's a subway crash in the latest hours of the evening. The subway crashes in the middle of the night when the commuters were at their lowest, and accident records five injuries, the most a broken bone, and Akechi is promptly called to Shido's office.

Tower Rank 6 – Hinata Osumi

When he reaches Shido, the man isn't as angry as expected. In fact, there is hardly any anger at all. "Explain yourself, Akechi," Shido demands instead, demeanour and voice seemingly calm as he sits in his chair. A different office this time, one that was made to entertain guests. There's a partition that hides half of a cabinet filled with expensive wines, and behind him lies a small sitting table surrounded by chairs.

Akechi doesn't bother sitting.

"It's simple, Shido-san" Akechi shrugs. "I didn't listen to you."

"So you don't care about my terms?" Shido asks, voice interested as he folds his hands in front of his face. His tinted glasses do nothing to his genuine curiosity as he feels Shido's regard rake across Akechi's stone-wall of neutrality.

"I did care, until I realised Hinata Osumi betrayed me," Akechi replies, and Shido laughs.

"I'm impressed you caught it so quickly. I expected another few months at least. Being a detective suit you surprisingly well. What tipped you off?" Shido wonders. "The girl's abominable acting?"

"Perhaps. Or it may be the fact that you were too greedy. I caught her downloading spyware into my phone, Shido-san. There's only one person who would gain from that sort of act, and it's not Osumi-san."

Shido doesn't even seem ashamed that he got caught, smile widening on his face as he continues watching Akechi. The earliest hours of the morning force Shido to use warm-light lamps that do nothing to soften the hungry gaze that Shido has. His eyes are a dark glimmer, and Akechi remembers how he had appeared in Shido's own cognition. Remembers just how many of the guests had praised Shido's ability to 'root out any information'. Saw comas as a grand prize to be won from Shido's favour.

"The more I see you, Akechi," Shido says, "the more I realise that you were chosen by God… Chosen just like me."

Akechi cuts him off there. He feels like there was a choice that he can't turn back from if he allows Shido to continue, so he presses onwards instead.

"Shido-san, if there is one thing I realised through this whole negotiation, it's the fact that I highly dislike being manipulated. Since you have honoured all our deals so far, I will come forth with another."

Shido's entertained smirk never falters when Akechi exposes a little bit of his anger.

"Never threaten those near me again," Akechi says, smile just as sharp as Shido's own, "and I will do as many information requests as you wish, with no limit, until the end of your election campaign. Palaces and comas will remain the same."

There are no words to describe the utter satisfaction that descends on Shido when he hears the words out of Akechi's mouth. They both know that Akechi is offering exactly what Shido wants, the reason why he dared to so overtly change the orders for the subway crash in the first place.

"Deal." Shido agrees, and he sticks out a hand to grasp.

"This includes Hinata Osumi and her child," Akechi adds as he shakes Shido's hand, just to make sure, and Shido's grip tightens for a fraction of a second as the man, his father, calculated something behind his eyes, weighed him like a piece of meat and found that he was instead made of solid gold.

"One day I will make you willingly join my cause, Akechi," Shido says before he lets go of Akechi's hand.

"I truly doubt that will happen. Now, I need to prepare for school. I will take my leave, Shido-san."

And with a quick, insincere bow, Akechi leaves.

A few seconds later, another voice rings out in the room.

"Are you sure that was fine, Shido-san?" Fusa steps out from behind a partition, face unreadable. Shido's answering smirk doesn't fade. "I've never seen you forgive direct insubordination."

"His abilities are crucial, Fusa," Shido replies. "And besides, it's amusing to see someone like Goro Akechi trying to play as someone righteous."

"Play?" Fusa echoes and Shido turns his chair so that he faced the beautiful, dark vista of Tokyo, still in the stages of waking up for the new day.

"I predicted this, you know," Shido says into the air, more to himself than Fusa. "It wouldn't have mattered whether Akechi found out about that woman's betrayal. He could either continue to be tricked and listen to my orders. Or he could find out about the betrayal, and as per my predictions, twist himself into becoming someone bitter and angry. A person as paranoid and untrusting as him being stabbed in the back?" Shido laughs, deep barks harsh with derision. "That boy wouldn't be able trust any more. He'd close his heart to even the people he knows and turn to me instead, with our contracts and rules, our little game of give and take. Because, Fusa, our relationship is hardly one of trust. We speak a common language, he and I."

Shido looks down at the country of ants underneath him, the lone lights of an early car here and there, and he chuckles.

"It makes me nearly regretful that I didn't bring him in earlier," Shido murmurs, before shaking his head. "But enough with distractions. Continue your report, Fusa."

"Yes, Shido-san," Fusa replies with a polite bow, and continues to dictate his report.

Devil Rank 5 – Masayoshi Shido

Watching Kamoshida grovel on his knees in repentance, seeing Ann scream at him for wanting to commit suicide – Akira can't help but reply to Ryuji's doubts with a nod of affirmation.

What Kamoshida said, the apologies and acknowledgment that arose. To Ryuji, to Shiho. To Ann, crying because Shiho had woken up and she could tell Kamoshida was going to prison for what he did to her.

They couldn't be wrong.

"We'll celebrate on the 5th, on Children's Day." Ryuji says, looking around for objections.

"Alright then!" Ann says cheerfully. "We'll leave selling the medal to you, Akira!"

That night, he watches the news as the Transport Minister got grilled for his negligence as he chews through his plate of curry.

"Although there's evidence that your ministry received reports nearly seven months ago that these tracks had problems, it only took until now that a train crashed, with thankfully, only five injuries for you to take notice?" The interviewer asks, a little angry, and the Minister on the screen wipes some sweat off his forehead.

"This is, we are truly sorry for what has happened…"

It wasn't directly related to him, however, and Akira just tucks it as another part of 'daily news' and focuses on selling Kamoshida's medal to Iwai without looking too much like a dodgy teenager (he doesn't think he succeeds, with the man's raised eyebrow and dubious laughter. Akira bore that with as much stoic energy as he could channel). A few days later, he's staring down a whole plate of weird mush and beans, another plate of his own food as Ann and Ryuji bicker on either side of him. Morgana is secretly sneaking slices of fish from his plate even as Akira eats a little of everything – Ann wasn't kidding, the food really is amazingly good – and at the end, the four of them swear to each other with bright determination in their faces, high from their first success.

"Now then, this is the official formation of the Phantom Thieves organisation!" Morgana exclaims passionately, and Akira watches his cat try to look cool while still staying in his bag and can't help but pet his head.

"Oh no, our time for the buffet ran out!" is what Ann says immediately afterwards, ruining any grandeur that Morgana was going for. Akira stifles his laugh into a small smile when he notices Morgana's huff of disappointment.

"Let's talk more tomorrow then," Ryuji says, and they all agree as they waddle out of the buffet, shooting casual suggestions at each other as to who their next target would be.

Chapter Text

He once asked Akira this, on a rainy night in LeBlanc.

"Do you ever get angry?" He asked in half exasperation, and in the pause that Akira always has when he's asked a question that he needs to formulate words to answer, Akechi looks out the window. Thick silver strands of rain whipped the air outside into waving sheets, and the few people struggling to walk down the relatively covered alleyways of Yongen-Jaya looked miserable to have to do so, umbrellas threatening to flip with rain soaking up to their elbows from slanting wind.

The air was wet even when he breathed in, smelling of coffee grounds and petrichor, and Akira's movements had been methodical as he wiped down tables and put cutlery back into their cupboards.

"Depends on what it is," Akira had replied, sitting down across from him and re-joining their half-finished game of chess. It was an even match – Akechi had taken both of Akira's bishops, but Akira had a knight in his hand as well as several of his pawns. "I don't usually get angry though," he adds with a small smirk, all deceptive slouches and gentle head-tilts. As if he wasn't a person whose smirk grew wider when he shot down enemies, who prowled in the dark with precision and tore the masks off monsters commanding them to reveal their true form. No, Akira in real-life stayed quiet and observant, mouth tilted serious and eyes a shade distant.

"Forgive me, but may I mention I've looked into the matter of your friends?" Akechi says, and Akira's gaze immediately grows sharp, protective.

To have that gaze on him... Akechi's own smile hides a little satisfaction he'd caught Akira's full attention. Concerned about his less legal contacts, probably. He could name quite a few – the ex-yakuza at the Airsoft shop was already hounded constantly by police, the scamming fortune-teller at Shibuya, and his sex-worker of a teacher. All would be on tenterhooks with just a word from Akechi.

He smiles angelically instead.

"Don't worry, it's just cursory curiosity. When I looked into your circumstances I realised that the people around you always… they change, Akira." Akechi says as he leans forward, taking his queen delicately and shifting her two squares diagonal to take a pawn. "A few change of hearts, a few drastically improved circumstances. You're obviously the cause. What motivates you to help them if not some sort of… anger for their circumstances?"

Akira's expression changed then, to that insufferably soft look that was a shade away from pity.

And, movements smooth, like a cat stretching languidly before jumping into the night for a lucrative hunt, Akira moved a knight and removed another pawn.

"Guess," Akira said, and his smile was, now that Akechi thought back and understood, affectionate and kind, and Akechi still doesn't understand this memory.

Because Akira knew all along that he was going to be a traitor. Known from the beginning he was only hanging around until Sae's Palace because he needed to lay the perfect trap and Akira was still willing to sit down in front of him like this, still willing to go through the motions of being his friend. Invited him to go to Mementos, took his opinion into consideration.

Akechi has guessed half a million times on the memory of Akira's smile, and he still doesn't feel like he knows the answer hidden in the kindness of Akira's eyes that night.

"Look into it!" Shido snaps at his personal psychiatrist, who bows hurriedly and moves to another room to look through Wakaba's notes again. "Kamoshida's change is too sudden, it's only luck that he's too preoccupied with his own crimes and didn't mention the conspiracy," Shido says to the room at large in his office in the Diet Building, and the bunch of politicians in front of him nod seriously.

"Wakaba Ishikki's research did mention that desires can be manipulated in the Metaverse," one of the politicians muses seriously, "and this shift in Kamoshida may be a realignment of his desires."

"A desire to repent?" Another politician asks, and the first nods.

"Did you know anything about this?" Shido narrows his eyes at Akechi on the screen of his laptop, and Akechi shakes his head.

"No. If I had the ability to do this, I would've mentioned it sooner. Making a person vocally admit their own crimes seems much more expedient than merely incapacitating them and manipulating their trails from the shadows," Akechi replies, and Shido grunts in affirmation, finger tapping the table in front of him in annoyance.

It's new, to be included in a conversation like this, even if it wasn't in person. He can hear many of Shido's political cronies in Shido's office that he had never been given the privilege to meet before.

"What were you doing that day, Akechi?" He hears Fusa say on the other side of the screen, and Akechi smiles.

"I was in a Kichijoji café finishing some homework, as many eyewitnesses would attest," Akechi smoothly provides his alibi, and Shido gives another grunt of affirmation.

"Then as the person most affiliated with the Metaverse, I suggest that Akechi be part of the official investigation from the start," Fusa says formally to Shido. "He'll be our best chance at noticing anomalies on the ground. We can hardly trust normal policemen to do their job if the Metaverse is truly involved."

Shido raises an eyebrow at Akechi, who nods.