Chapter Text
It took a bit longer than a week to set up, though Akira was totally ready to blame that on the fact that exams were coming up, plus he had to make the rounds to reassure everyone for the hundredth time that yes, he’s not dead, no he’s not arrested anymore, and yes, that was him on the television calling out Shido. Add in the fact Akechi was MIA, presumed dead after the battle on Shido’s ship. Granted, it was very likely he actually was dead, but....Akira couldn’t help but hope. Not to mention the whole “fought a literal false god” bullshit, but he’d rather NOT think about that, thanks.
Still, he’d managed to set up a time with both Mutous, so now they were sitting in his attic room, a video camera set up at Akira’s elbow and facing Mutou. Today, they weren’t wearing the punk fashions of Mutou, nor the more grunge clothing of Spirit, but sort of a mix of both. They were in a soft-looking black sweater with little bats on it, slightly ripped jeans, and black sneakers with their hair ungelled but tied back, and glasses. Right now it was Mutou, though it was strange to see his eyes brown rather than purple, somehow.
“Are you ready?” Akira asked. Mutou nodded, fiddling anxiously with the chain on the puzzle around his neck. Akira turned the camera on, gesturing for Mutou to go ahead. He looked conflicted for a second before visibly steeling himself, looking up into the camera lens.
“Hello, Other Me.”
--
“—and I guess I just wanted a friend, so I never said anything. You scare me, y’know? People keep disappearing, and I don’t know where I am when that happens. The police are asking about me, did you know that? They think I’m killing people. They talked to Grandpa the other day, he didn’t say anything I don’t think, but.....you’re scaring my family too. I.....I never wanted to be feared!”
Spirit stared blankly at the tiny LCD screen, watching his-not his face contort in agony. Yuugi was nearly crying on screen, looking desperate and cornered. Vaguely, he remembered the early days, whispers of memory sneaking back into his mind.
“Yuugi, are you sure you’re okay? You’ve been acting…strange, lately.”
“Maybe you should lay off the midnight coffee, Grandpa. I think it’s getting to you!”
“G-Get away from me! I didn’t do anything to you this time, so stay away from me!”
He chewed his lip harshly, glaring down at the screen. It didn’t take a genius to see Yuugi was hurting. Unfortunately, he didn’t know how to comfort the other, despite feeling the drying remnants of tears on his cheeks. He had all the empathy of a rusty teaspoon, and still felt he was justified in what he’d done. Granted, there might’ve been a better way about it, that was true. Still, just sitting here wasn’t helping anything.
He took a deep breath, replaced the camera on the tripod next to Kurusu, and began.
“I never meant to hurt you...”
--
There’s a bit of a difference between knowing you’re possessed and seeing it. For the first time, Yuugi finally understood why everyone he’s met thought he had some sort of split personality. He watched with mounting horror as the red eyes in his face narrowed (in contempt? Disgust?) and a barely there sneer graced his lips. Even his posture changed, straightening like someone had taped a plank to his spine rather than the comfortable hunch he’d developed over years of gaming. It was easy to see the differences between them, and it was no wonder his mom had noticed immediately that something was off, even if she couldn’t put words to it at first.
The words of the spirit didn’t help his unease. Excuses, platitudes, insistence that he needed ‘protecting’ like the spirit wasn’t the cause of 90% of his problems in the first place. Granted he’d been getting bullied before, that hasn't changed, but now people were afraid of him. Plus, the rougher of the delinquents at his school wanted to ‘test’ themselves against him, like he was some sort of measuring stick. It was ridiculous, and often meant he was just a walking bruise. Without his permission, a white-hot flash of anger gripped him, and he had to set the camera down before he snapped it in his anger. Kurusu eyed him impassively, head tilted just slightly as he waited for Yuugi to speak. Finally, he managed to unclench his nails from his palms, chucking his glasses on the table and rubbing his eyes harshly. He hated feeling like this, like a meltdown was just one wrong breath away, but he couldn’t help it.
The condescension, the pity, the assumptions, they just made him so angry. He harshly slammed his fist down on his thighs, the repetitive drumming soothing him slightly. His other hand found its way to his hair as he tugged it roughly, the duel sensations of pain calming him enough he could actually look at Kurusu again. He seemed alarmed, but not as much as Yuugi would’ve expected. Wordlessly, he nodded towards the camera, a questioning look on his face. (Were it any other time, Yuugi would’ve mentioned how he appreciated the silence. Not many people realized them talking made it worse.)
He took a deep breath, managing to extract his hand from his hair long enough he could put the camera back. He nodded at Kurusu, who hit record and just waited. Yuugi took another deep breath, shaking off the last bits of the buzzing rage like they were just irritating mosquitoes, leaving only an undercurrent behind. Voice clipped and tightly controlled, he prepared to tear the spirit a new one.
“I don’t need protecting. I’m not weak, I’m not fragile, and choosing to be a pacifist doesn’t make me naive! I was doing fine before you showed up. Did I have friends? Yes! I had Anzu, but I was selfish and wanted more. I didn’t appreciate her as much as I should’ve, and though I’m grateful for Jounouchi-kun, Honda-kun, and Ryou-kun, I was fine without them. I don’t know if you see me as stupid, or if you think I can’t handle myself because I choose to solve my problems without violence, but I’m not a child, dammit!
“All my life I’ve been looked down on for being small, or weak, or retarded,” he spat out the last word like it was poison, before continuing, “so I’m well used to people assuming I can’t handle myself. I don’t know why I expected you to be different, but guess that’s on me for assuming.” He lapsed into silence for a second, so angry that he choked himself off, unable to continue. He had to take a second to calm down again before he could speak again, shaking his head. “This is ridiculous, what am I even doing? You’ll never change, even if I wish you would. Just like everyone else, you’ll never see me as someone capable...”
He lapsed into silence again, before being startled out of it by Kurusu’s voice. “Mutou, sorry to interrupt, but....can I add something?” he asked softly. Yuugi blinked at him, nonplussed, before nodding hesitantly. “Spirit didn’t say this in his video, but I do have proof of it. He told me he wanted to protect you, in part to repay you. He claims you gave him life, and the only thing he knew after becoming aware was your hurts and his anger.” He adjusted his glasses, looking at Yuugi intensely. “I agree he could’ve been going about it better, and I know how frustrating it is when people treat you like a child, but....I just wanted to add that, as context, sort of.”
He spoke like he had experience. Yuugi blinked at him, only dimly aware of the camera still rolling. In the back of his mind, he swore he could hear a whisper. He sighed explosively, rubbing his face with his hands and wincing only slightly when they caught one of his piercings. “I’ll believe you....You’ve never lied to me before, so I’ll believe you.” He peered out from behind his fingers, too exhausted to bother removing them. “I’ll......I’ll give him a chance, so thank you for helping. I guess....I just need a moment. Still, I really do appreciate all your help.” He sighed, giving Kurusu a wry grin. “Guess you have a lot of time on your hands, since taking down the Prime Minister.”
Kurusu looked taken aback, finally showing an emotion other than placid calm. “H-How did you—?!” he gasped, ears coloring. Yuugi snorted, which turned into a full laugh.
“Like I said, I’m not stupid. I figured something was up when you started hanging out with me at first, especially since I didn’t know you. I saw the Phansite, and I saw Himura-kun’s post on it, dated just before you started talking to me. Then, you go to juvie right when the leader of the Phantom Thieves goes into custody, not to mention being a massive ‘fanboy’.....it wasn’t hard to put together, once I had all the pieces,” he said, listing them off on his fingers. “For a Phantom Thief, you’re not that good at staying under the radar, at least not to people who know you.” He laughed, but took pity on Kurusu after seeing his panicked, guilty expression. “Relax, Kurusu-kun. I never had a sudden ‘change of heart’, so I know that whatever magic you do, you didn’t do to me. I don’t believe you killed Okumura either, and I know that even if you first became my friend to, I dunno, take me out somehow, you still didn’t.” He sighed, spinning one of his rings around absently. “I like to believe we were real friends; that even if we met out of obligation on your end and chance on mine, we became.....real friends. Besides, you’ve kind of already been outed as a Phantom Thief,” he pointed out.
Kurusu’s blush spread from his ears to his cheeks as he came to the same conclusion, burying his face in his hands. “You.....have a point,” he muttered, resisting the urge to bang his head against the table. “Still, I do appreciate it. And....for what it’s worth, I think we’re real friends too, Mutou,” he offered.
“Call me Yuugi, Kurusu-kun. I’ve bared my soul to you like four times now, I think you’ve earned that much.”
“Then, you can call me Akira. All my confidants do.”
Swords: Rank MAX! [Mutou’s Shadow] removed from Mementos.