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Akira was staring. Crow was breathing heavy, images of himself mirrored behind him. Overly enthusiastic voices of trapped souls echoing behind him. A television studio seemed a bit on the nose, but it didn’t replace the uncanny valley aspect of seeing posters and cut-outs of The Detective Prince beautifully photoshopped in every corner. A hall of mirrors, all leading to this.
“Don’t you fucking get it? ” Goro panted, clutching at his stomach where a punch from a shadow had knocked him down just a few moments ago. “There is no point to this, you idiot. ”
Akira was about to respond in his typical Joker-fascade, before Akechi let out a sharp laugh that caused Akira to stumble, a deep chill running up his spine.
“There is something broken in me, something that can’t ever be fixed--or stolen--or whatever the fuck it is that you think you can do. I have been decaying since the day I was cut from my Mother’s stomach.” He paused for a moment, and then tilted his head like a rabid dog, considering the best way to rip out the throat of an injured bird. “Did you know that I almost killed her? Well, I did. But before that, I almost physically killed her? She was in labor for nearly three days, and needed multiple transfusions. She had rashes all over her body, and a raging infection that spread to her bloodstream. Even before I took my first breathe, I have been nothing but a parasite, strangling its host.” Goro circled Akira, challenging him. Waiting to see the pity in his eyes change to disgust, to hatred, to anything but fucking pity.
“ This whole thing? This whole,” Goro raised his arms, gesturing to the television set, the flamboyant Featherman costumes, the posters of Akechi, grinning from ear to ear lining the walls, “ fucking thing? I wanted this.” He huffed out a laugh, “this is what I want, what I have always wanted.”
“Goro-”, Akira spoke, his body language was relaxed, fluid, as if he wasn’t currently dealing with someone who was planning to murder him ( again, he reminded himself). “You know that’s not true, Shid-”
“Don’t.” Akechi hissed. “Don’t fucking dare say this was all because of him. Tell me, Kurusu, do you see any remnants of my Father in this place? Any shimmering gold? Any statues of him, riding his fucking cruise ship through Tokyo? No. This has nothing to do with him, and it never fucking has.” Goro had stopped circling, and was not taking steps directly towards Akira.
“The first time I fantasized about killing someone, I was seven years old. I didn’t even know my Father’s name. I was seven, and I had dreams about stabbing this other boy in my group home. I would close my eyes in my shitty cot, and count each time my knife would slip into his stomach. One, two, three...”
Akira swallowed, and responded, “He probably deserved it.”
Goro blinked. He stopped walking and stared at Akira, the buzzing noise of shadows babbling on about Akechi-kun’s latest heroic encounter the only noise besides Goro’s own labored breathing.
“You really are fucking stupid, then. All this time, I thought you were smart, cunning even , someone that I really thought of as my equal, a true foil.” Goro shook his head and laughed softly, “Shows what thinking with your cock will get you.”
Akira chose to ignore that last part, though he did pack it away to address later because what the fuck , but instead shrugged. “That would be your mistake then, I am a fucking idiot.”
Goro scoffed and turned on his heel to walk off, before quickly whipping around and snarling, aiming his gun at Joker. His eyes were on fire, and his teeth were bared, ready to rip out every artery in Akira’s nape. With a violent jolt, Akechi roared for Loki, and the battle began.
‘It was quick.’ Akira, thought to himself, while pressing a piece of cloth against his shin where Goro had shot him. Akechi had gone down after three attacks, seemingly unable, or perhaps unwilling, to block. Akira had half-expected Goro to try and bite when he walked up to him and offered him a canteen of curry. Instead, he barely lifted his head, nodded, and accepted. When Akira went to walk away, he nearly shit himself when he felt a slight pull on the cuff of his uninjured leg. Goro was clutching the thermus in one hand, while pulling at Akira with the other, still looking down at the ground. Akira understood, and sat down next to him, pulling out a piece of flannel from his pocket to shove against the laser wound.
It felt like hours before anyone spoke. It was only when Akira felt himself begin to doze off, before he felt Akechi shift against him.
Goro said, moreso into his knees than to Akira, “What did you mean earlier?”
Akira cocked his head, letting his torso rest against Akechi’s curled frame. “I said a lot of things, so you’re going to have to be more specific.”
Goro raised his head, letting his cheek lay on his kneecap. “What you said about me wanting to kill that kid in my group home, that he deserved it.”
Akira sighed and stretched, before letting himself fall more against Akechi. “I said it because I meant it.” He paused, waiting for a reaction that didn’t come. “Look, Goro, I know what you said about Shido not being the reason why you ‘are the way you are’ or whatever, but, like, your whole life sounds like it's straight from a really depressing book from the 1800’s or something.”
“Are you going to actually answer the question or just insult me?” There was no bite to it, but Akira could sense the undercurrent of electricity. So he sighed again and tried to think about the best way to phrase what he wanted to say.
“No, it’s just. That whole thing about you being born bad? That’s really kinda fucked up. Everyone’s the result of everyone else, you know? So yeah, like, it probably wasn’t a good sign that you were dreaming of murder before you could multiply, but I get it?” He felt Akechi tense against him.
“Whatever that kid did made you feel like the only way to stop it was to kill him, and I mean, that isn’t normal, right? A regular kid would go running to their parents or tell him to stop or something, but you couldn’t, so. I don’t know, it makes sense.”
There was a beat of silence, where Akira was rerunning what he said in his head, trying to see where he might have fucked up and made things worse, which seems to be a pattern as of late.
“I am just so tired, Akira.” The words came out as barely a whisper, something so gentle that Akira didn’t know how to respond, for fear of breaking them. Goro was looking at him with such reverence and trust, it made his stomach twist. Here was this boy, who spent his entire life discarded, long abandoning the idea of warmth, looking at him like he was everything , offering his life to him on this platter. His heart seized. ‘If anyone even so much as looks at him, I will destroy them’ .
“We should get going then,” Akira responded, attempting to sound casual. He leaned closer to Akechi, letting his face fall against his hair. Goro merely mumbled in return.
“...I am not going to pick you up, you know.”
“Why not?” Goro whined.
“You shot me in the leg, remember?”
Goro shook his head, “and you dragged me into my own subconscious. Besides, it was a warning shot, you dolt.”
Akira laughed loudly at that, and jumping to his feet, albeit a bit unsteadily. He reached his hand down for Goro to grab, and assisted him to his feet. Their hands remained clasped for a moment before Akira whispered, “If that was a warning shot, I’d like to see you actually try.”
Goro smirked in return, glint returning, “Is that a challenge, Joker?”