Archive of Our Own ^beta

“It seems I’ll need to take more drastic measures to convince you.”

The doctor snapped his fingers, and they were dazzled by floodlights all around the room. Goro shielded his face on instinct, blinking frantically to force his eyes to adjust. Beside him, he heard Sumire scream.

“What the—” Before he could finish that sentence something shot towards him, using the momentary blindness to attack. Goro sprung out of the way, and his assailant slammed into the ground where he stood a moment before.

With his vision starting to clear, Goro realized it was a long tendril, erupting from the ground around Maruki. It pulsed sickeningly, a spectrum of colors dancing just beneath the slimy surface. A second tendril was already coiled around Sumire, lifting her away from the other two. A third had lashed itself around Kurusu’s leg; he wasn’t quite fast enough to avoid it.

Goro unsheathed his sword, sidestepping the writhing tentacle closest to him to reach Kurusu’s side. But the serrated blade had no effect on the restraint. It merely bounced off the slick outer skin, without leaving so much as a scratch.

“Crow!” The tendril yanked on Kurusu’s leg, pulling him off balance. He gripped the front of Goro’s bodysuit, fighting to stay upright. “Forget me, attack Maruki! Save Sumire!”

Of course you’d say that, you self-sacrificing little shit! Goro bit back his sharp retort. Now really wasn’t the time.

He didn’t have the chance to take Kurusu’s advice. As soon as he turned towards Maruki, another tentacle lashed out and wrapped around his neck. It tightened around the base of his helmet, lifting him until his toes barely scraped the ground.

“Shit — Let go!” Goro screeched. He scrabbled at the disgusting thing with the claws of his gauntlets, to no avail.

The first of the tendrils had already deposited Sumire gently in Maruki’s arms. “I’m sorry that it’s come to this, honestly,” he lamented, though his sympathy only made Goro’s blood boil. “But you leave me no choice.”

Kurusu grunted as he finally lost his footing. The tendril slithered up his leg, wrapping around his torso while he slashed at it desperately with his dagger. It caught him around the wrist, twisting until the dagger clattered to the floor.

The one holding Goro snaked down from his neck, pinning his arms to his sides. It held firm no matter how he writhed. He kicked and screamed and swore, but his bindings didn’t budge.

“Joker — I can’t—” He was cut off when the tendril reached up to curl around his helmet as well.

“ Crow! ” The last thing he saw was Kurusu reaching for him with his free hand. That one red glove, stretched out and flailing. Those dark eyes wild with terror behind their mask. Goro was struck with a morbid sense of Déjà vu before his vision went dark.

Where am I?

He was weightless, floating, unable to tell which way was up or down. There was inky black all around him, smothering his body and invading his lungs. With every breath, he felt it seep further into his mind, wrapping around every molecule of his being. 

Did he even have a body anymore? Or had he already succumbed entirely to this void of nothingness?

“It was rather hard to get a read on you, Akechi-kun,” a voice said all around him. It was far away and at the same time, echoing right inside his head. “I wasn’t sure what wish of yours I could grant.” It paused, a chuckle reverberating through the darkness. “But now I think I’m starting to understand.”

My… Wish?

This wasn’t right, he wasn’t supposed to be here. There was something he had to do. Fleeting memories flashed through his mind and slipped away like water through his fingers. There was something important, but he just… Couldn’t remember.

He couldn’t seem to remember much of anything at all.

“The reality that you wish for,” the voice whispered and boomed all around him. “Let me actualize it for you.”

Whatever tenuous grasp he had on consciousness faded as he was swallowed by the void.

Goro woke with a gasp, flat on his back and drenched in sweat. He thrashed about wildly, clawing at the bindings around him with pointed claws. But when he caught sight of his hands, they weren’t clad in sharp black metal. They were bare, without even the leather gloves that he rarely left home without. 

He wasn’t bound by rope or chain or clinging tendrils, either. It was just his sheets, wrapped around him in a tight cocoon.

Sighing, Goro let his eyes slide closed again. Just a dream, he realized, with no small amount of irritation. Honestly, he should have been used to waking up like this by now. Though the specifics of that nightmare were already lost to him, the frenzied pounding in his chest was a dead giveaway.

After taking a moment to calm his erratic heartbeat, Goro sat up and took in the state of his room.

Immediately he felt something was off.

While this was definitely his room, it was a lot more cluttered than he remembered. Even the bed was stacked with more pillows than he could ever really need. Over his headboard, a poster for his favorite movie series hung in a simple black frame. It was even signed by the director. Goro couldn’t recall ever purchasing something so frivolous for himself, let alone getting it signed.

Goro swung his legs over the side of his bed and walked to the bookshelf against the far wall. It was packed to the brim with mystery novels, and the occasional science fiction novel mixed in. Assorted knick-knacks decorated the space in front of the books. Each one had a story behind it, Goro began to remember as he examined the shelves.

The first was a posable figure of Black Condor, a gift from Futaba one of the times she dragged him to Akihabara to see the latest Featherman merch. “ You definitely remind me of Condor! ” she snickered, shoving the box into his arms. “ We all know you’ve got a mean streak! ”

Goro still wasn’t sure if he was supposed to take that as a compliment or not, but he accepted the gift nonetheless. He had carefully arranged the masked hero into his signature pose from the show on his shelf.

Next to Condor sat a delicate ceramic sculpture of a crow perched on a branch. He remembered Ann spotting it in some trendy shop, when they were roaming the streets of Kichijoji together. “ Look, look, it’s a crow just like you! ” she squealed, grabbing him by the arm to drag him into the shop. “ Oh my god, we totally have to get it for you! ” 

It was hardly something Goro needed, but he did feel a certain warmth towards Ann whenever he looked at it.

By far his most prized possession was the model gun sitting on the highest shelf. It was intricately detailed, a perfect replica of a laser pistol from a sci-fi movie Goro held a particular fondness for. It was limited edition and ludicrously expensive. His jaw fell open when Kurusu had presented it to him with a sheepish grin. “ The owner of the airsoft shop on Central Street owed me a favor, ” he tried to play it off like it was nothing. “ Happy birthday, Goro. ”

He lifted the gun carefully from its display stand. It fit in his hand like it belonged there, like it was never meant to be anywhere else. Smiling wistfully to himself, Goro placed it back on his shelf.

His desk was just as covered with paperwork and case files as it always was. Stacks of folders dwarfed his expensive laptop, creating a wall of work that he would need to get around to. Award plaques and certificates lined the wall behind his desk. Tracing his fingers over the dates, Goro could only vaguely remember what each award was for. Some were acknowledgements of his work as a detective, while a few were from cycling events he participated in.

Something caught his eye, mixed in with the awards. A small picture frame had been shoved out of the way by his piles of paperwork. Lifting it to his face, Goro found it held a photo of himself grinning brightly beside Sae Niijima. Sae was smiling as well, something genuine and soft that he could barely believe belonged on her face. 

Pulling the photo out for a better look, he found something written on the back: Thank you for being the best partner I could ask for, these past years. I owe you all the sushi you can eat - Sae.

Goro blinked in disbelief at the neat writing. It was unmistakably Sae’s handwriting; he saw it often enough in her reports. But he was sure he couldn’t remember Sae ever thanking him for anything , let alone for being her partner. He was lucky if she remembered to say thank you whenever he fetched her coffee. Sae was always so caught up in her own ambitions that Goro was just an afterthought.

A jolt of pain shot through Goro’s head and he winced, gripping the side of his desk to steady himself. No, that wasn’t quite right. Looking at the photo of them together, his memories of Sae started to shift. He could picture her smiling easily, offering to take him out for dinner after work, bringing him coffee on nights that they were both working late. On more than one occasion, she even invited him back to share in a family dinner with Makoto and their father.

Her father? Goro shook his head, trying to picture what the man’s face looked like. He could remember the shape of him, how it felt to be in his presence. But the details of his face were murky, shrouded in darkness.

Goro dropped the photo on his desk and stumbled towards the door. It’s too early to be thinking this hard, he scolded himself. I haven’t even had any caffeine yet. It would take far too long to take the train to LeBlanc, so the instant shit in his kitchen would have to do.

He found his way down the hallway outside his room mostly from muscle memory. A dull ache still pulsed through his head, something that could hopefully be cured with enough coffee. Reaching the living room, he fumbled for the light switch on the wall and found it already flipped on.

Did I forget to turn everything off last night? Idiot, my electric bill is high enough already—

“Ah, good morning, Goro. How’d you sleep?”

Goro froze at the sound of the familiar voice. There shouldn’t have been anyone but him in his apartment. He may have left the lights on, but he wasn’t stupid enough not to double check all three extra locks on his door. No one should have been able to get in, except...

Stiffly, he turned his head towards the voice. There on his couch, none other than Masayoshi Shido was leaning back against the cushions, casually sipping a cup of coffee while reading the newspaper.

Shock gave way to panic and Goro’s heart started to race again. What was he doing here , in Goro’s apartment? He didn’t really wonder how he got in; no amount of locks could keep Shido out if he really wanted to get somewhere.

But if he went through the trouble of personally forcing his way into Goro’s apartment, then…

Goro swallowed hard, forcing a polite smile onto his face. “Sh-Shido-san,” he said, hating the way his voice wavered. “I wasn’t expecting to see you here.”

Shido snorted into his coffee, turning to cock an eyebrow at Goro. “‘Shido-san’?” he repeated with a chuckle. “That’s a strange way to address your father, isn’t it?”

Terror shot through Goro, so intense that he stumbled back against the wall. “You — You knew ?” That was impossible, he was so careful, so secretive, all this time. His plans were perfect, there was no way Shido could have found out the truth, not unless—

The man barked out a laugh unlike Goro had ever heard before. There was no malice, no condescension behind it. Just genuine amusement. “I should hope so. I was there, after all!” Folding up his newspaper, he set it on the coffee table and stood to approach Goro. Reaching a hand towards his face, he asked, “Are you feeling alright?”

Goro recoiled from his touch, revulsion crawling up his throat and threatening to come spilling out. “Don’t touch me!” he snapped, pressing against the wall to get as much space between himself and Shido as possible.

Shido’s brow furrowed with concern ( concern , since when was the bastard ever concerned about anything but himself?) but he dropped his hand. After a moment a smile broke over his face and he shook his head. “You’re always so grumpy when you first wake up,” he said, settling back on the couch. “I’m sure you’ll feel better once you’ve eaten. Oh, honey!” he called across the room to the kitchen. “Is breakfast almost ready?”

“Just about, dear!” a woman’s voice called back to him.

The possibility of yet another person in his apartment didn’t even occur to Goro until she spoke. His attention was so singularly focused on Shido that he didn’t check for anyone else. Now he craned his neck around, spotting the woman in the kitchen. She had her back to them, humming tunelessly to herself while she worked over the stove. Waves of long, chestnut hair fell over her shoulders, and she had a dark blue apron tied around her waist.

Goro scarcely dared to breathe as he approached the entryway to the kitchen. The smell of delicious pancakes reached him anyway, and he felt his mouth water in spite of himself. Pausing at the threshold, he swallowed around the lump in his throat and whispered, “Mother?”

The woman turned around, a spatula in hand. She had the same deep red eyes as Goro, the same silky hair framing her cheeks. 

For a moment, her face was overlaid with another. The same face, but from another time, another life. Dim, unfocused eyes. Pale, clammy skin stretched over her emaciated form. Still water stained such a dark crimson that it was almost black. 

Then she smiled, and her whole face lit up. There was no trace of the dark eyebags or hollow cheeks that Goro remembered from his childhood. Looking at her now, so beautiful and so alive , those memories felt like nothing more than a bad dream.

“Don’t worry, your father didn’t drink all the coffee yet,” she said, reaching out to ruffle Goro’s bedhead. “There’s still plenty left in the pot, help yourself.” The pan in front of her started to sizzle, and she turned her attention back to the pancakes.

Goro’s vision fogged, and he realized that it was from tears welling up in his eyes. Crying, seriously ? He thought, rubbing furiously at his face. How many years had passed since the last time he cried? He hadn’t given in to this particular weakness since he acquired his Persona and escaped from his last foster home.

Wait, foster home? That couldn’t be right. Why would he have been in a foster home? Both of his parents were right here.

He moved in a haze around his mother, pouring himself a hefty cup of coffee and drinking it black. Usually he would have added something to sweeten it, but today he just needed the shot of caffeine as quickly as possible. Even so, it was far better than the instant stuff he bought for himself. Nowhere close to as good as LeBlanc’s drinks, but more than acceptable.

“Goro sweetie, could you set the table for me?” his mother asked over her shoulder. She still had her hands full with the last of the pancakes.

The kitchen cabinets were much fuller than he remembered. But that made sense, there were three people living here. They needed enough dishes for all of them, and any company that might come to visit. Why did Goro expect to find just a few chipped plates and mugs when he opened the cabinets? Why was he surprised to find stacks of clean silverware in the drawers?

With the table set for three, Goro dropped himself into a chair to chug the rest of his coffee. His eyes roamed around the apartment, taking in everything like it was new. The living room was so spacious, and he was sure he wasn’t the one to hang up all the photos on the walls. His eyes lingered on one, a portrait of his mother and Shido on their wedding day, smiling like it was the happiest they had ever been. Below it was a picture of Goro on his first day of elementary school, flanked by both of his proud parents.

When did they take all of these photos together as a family? He couldn’t quite remember.

He was startled out of his thoughts when a platter of fresh pancakes was set onto the table in front of him. They were topped with chopped strawberries, and his mother placed a tub of whipped cream next to his plate as well. She winked at him when he caught her eye, before calling out, “Dear, come get them while they’re hot!”

Goro ate in silence, observing his parents making small talk like he was watching animals at the zoo. The look on Shido’s face was absolutely nauseating, but Goro couldn’t quite figure out why anymore. Perhaps it was just embarrassing to watch his parents tease each other? That was normal, teenagers often expressed disgust when their parents acted cute together. And Goro was nothing if not a normal teenager.

Wasn’t he?

Shido was the first to finish his meal, placing his napkin neatly on the plate and getting to his feet. “Well, I really should be going,” he said, checking his watch. “Meetings to attend, laws to sign. I’ll probably be working late again.”

“Oh, can’t you take the day off? It’s the weekend!” his mother sighed. “You’ve hardly had a moment to yourself since the election!” 

“The country doesn’t take a day off, and neither can I.” His voice was stern, but he had the most hideously mushy look on his face. “I’ll see you tonight, honey.” Before Goro could avert his eyes, Shido leaned down and pressed a quick kiss to his mother’s lips.

White hot rage bloomed in Goro’s belly, shooting fire down each of his limbs. He gripped the fork in his hand so hard that it threatened to bend in half. The feeling vanished as soon as Shido donned his coat and stepped out the door. In its wake, Goro was left weak and trembling in his seat, struggling to catch his breath.

What was that? He wondered to himself. Disgust was one thing, but he couldn’t think of a reason why he should feel angry about seeing his parents kiss. Surely they had done so hundreds of times, over the years?

Thankfully, neither of them noticed Goro’s reaction. He scarfed down the rest of his pancakes, planning to spend the rest of the day locked in his room with his thoughts.

No sooner had he finished that a knock came at the front door. 

“Could you get that?” his mother asked, carrying the dirty dishes into the kitchen. “My hands are a little full, as you can see!”

Normally, Goro would have ignored someone knocking on his apartment door. Usually it was someone with the wrong address, anyway. He certainly wouldn’t have strolled right up to the door, still in his pajamas, and pulled it open without even looking through the peep hole.

Well, today was shaping up to be very abnormal indeed.

A cluster of flowers was shoved into his face as soon as the door swung open. The myriad colors assaulted his eyes, and the sweet scent was so strong that he sneezed.

“Wh-What—”

“Good morning, Goro!” the boy holding the bouquet of flowers lowered them enough that Goro could see his face. He registered messy black curls and a stunning smile. “Happy anniversary!”

Goro stared back at Kurusu, at a loss for words. Even with the caffeine coursing through his veins, his sluggish mind couldn’t figure out what he was talking about. After a pause that lasted a beat too long, Goro repeated, “Anniversary?”

Kurusu’s smile turned shy, his cheeks tinged slightly pink. “I know it’s kinda silly to celebrate six months,” he said, hiding the lower half of his face in the flowers. “But that’s still longer than any of my other relationships, so I wanted to do something special.”

He pushed the bouquet into Goro’s hands, still beaming. Goro could only blink at him.

“Sooo, I’ve got a bunch of stuff planned for our date today,” Kurusu went on, unbothered by Goro’s deer-in-headlights look. “And you’ll probably want to be dressed for most of it.” He waggled his eyebrows suggestively, and Goro felt himself flush.

“R-Right, of course,” Goro stammered, taking a step back. “Er, come in and make yourself comfortable while I… Get ready…”

He walked like he was learning how to use his legs for the first time. Kurusu followed him into the apartment, watching with amusement as Goro placed the bouquet on the dining table with jerky movements. The feeling of those intense eyes on him made his pulse quicken with some emotion Goro couldn’t name.

“Ah!” His mother stepped out of the kitchen again, drying her hands on her apron. “Hello, Kurusu-kun! Here to pick up Goro?”

“That’s right,” Kurusu said, grinning at her like they were old friends. “Sorry for taking up so much of his time lately.”

“Oh don’t worry about that.” His mother’s eyes crinkled up at the corners when she returned his easy smile. “You kids have fun!”

Kurusu’s eyes slid back to Goro when she disappeared back into the kitchen. “Something wrong?” he asked, tilting his head.

Goro shook his head. Without another word, he unstuck his feet from the floor and tottered back to his room. 

There were clothes he didn’t recognize in his drawers. When did he ever wear this bright red sweatshirt? Or these torn white jeans? It was so far from his usual style that he couldn’t even dream of buying them for himself.

Just as that doubt entered his mind, another memory surfaced. Haru and Ann pulling him into an eccentric shop in Harajuku, giggling the whole time. “ Let’s spice up your wardrobe, while we’re here! ” Ann had teased. She was already shoving him towards the changing rooms. “ You can’t just keep dressing like a grandpa forever! ”

“Don’t worry, we won’t go too overboard, ” Haru assured him, with a wicked smile that promised they would be here for a long while. And honestly, he should have expected something like this when they invited him out in the first place.

Goro tossed the flashy clothes aside for now, settling on something he felt more comfortable in. The cold weather called for layers, so he pulled on one of his dress shirts and a heavy dark blue sweater over it. He paired it with his usual khaki slacks and brown loafers, checking out the whole ensemble in the mirror once he was ready.

Why did he feel so nervous? It was only Kurusu; he never seemed to care what Goro was wearing. He wasn’t like the adults at work who scrutinized his every move. Whatever they were going to do, Goro couldn’t imagine he needed to be terribly dressed up.

Grabbing his peacoat off the back of his desk chair, Goro swallowed his nerves and stepped back out into the living room. Kurusu was sitting on the couch now, scrolling through his phone while he waited. His eyes snapped up when Goro reappeared, raking over his body. Goro was struck, as he often was in Kurusu’s presence, with the feeling of being under a microscope. It made his skin prickle and his mouth run dry.

Kurusu stood and took him by the hand, pulling him forward until their bodies were flush together. Their lips met in a chaste kiss, and Goro saw stars. It lasted less than a second, but Goro could have sworn the entire planet stopped turning in that moment.

God, how often had he dreamed of this? How many nights did he lie awake in bed, wishing he took the many openings Kurusu gave him? How many times did he imagine pulling the other boy across the counter at LeBlanc and kissing that smug look off his face?

They parted far too quickly, leaving Goro breathless and wanting. “Eager today, aren't you?” Kurusu murmured, a knowing smirk curling across his lips. There was a mischievous look in his eyes, peering over the top of his glasses. “Patience, Goro. We’ve got all the time in the world.”

Goro shuddered at the sound of his given name. Since when were they on a first-name basis? Was he allowed to call him Akira as well?

Why did this all feel so familiar, and so new all at once?

None of these questions were answered as Kurusu (Akira?) pulled him out the door and down the street to the train station. They rode in companionable silence, something Goro always appreciated with Kurusu. He never felt the need to fill the air with useless chatter. While they could easily talk for hours, and often did, they could also sit with the quiet and just be alone together.

But things were different, all of a sudden. Kurusu sat so close to him that their legs were pressed together. When the train started moving, he laced their fingers together and squeezed Goro’s hand. Goro shot him a look, but Kurusu only smiled again, quicksilver eyes glittering beneath long black lashes. 

After some time, Goro cleared his throat and tried, “K-Kurusu, where—”

Kurusu cut him off with a snort of laughter. “How many times do I have to tell you? Akira is fine,” he said. “I mean, we’ve only been dating for six months. It would be weird if you didn’t call me by name.”

Goro’s heart leapt into his throat. Right, of course, how could he forget? They were dating. Kurusu — no, Akira — was his boyfriend. Sweet memories surged to the surface of his mind. Their first kiss, alone in LeBlanc after a long evening with the old chess board. The many dates over the months, where Goro dragged Akira around to every chic little cafe in the city. Just a few weeks ago, when they wandered the streets of Shibuya admiring the Christmas lights together. Returning to LeBlanc after, where Akira pulled Goro up into the attic to—

His face grew hot and Goro hurried to cover it with his free hand, the one not currently locked in Akira’s grasp. “Sorry, old habits,” he muttered. “Akira. Where are we going?”

Akira leaned against him, nuzzling into the crook of his neck. “You’ll see.”

The train took them to a part of the city Goro seldom visited. Taking his hand again, Akira led the way until they reached a park. Nestled among the back streets like a secret, not many people were out for a stroll at this time of the year. Frost clung to the bare branches of the trees, and a thin layer of ice covered the large pond that acted as the park’s centerpiece.

Even in the depths of winter, it was beautiful.

They walked hand in hand for some time, enjoying the quiet. Goro couldn’t help but lean into Akira’s every touch. Even though they saw each other almost every day, he was starved for the other man’s affection. Every glance he stole towards Akira’s face felt like something shameful. 

Akira must have felt Goro’s eyes on him, because he flashed him a lopsided grin. “See something you like, Goro?”

Goro’s cheeks colored and he looked away with a huff.

Snickering, Akira bumped their shoulders together. “You know, you can just ask if you want something,” he teased.

Goro slowed to a stop, letting Akira circle around in front of him. His face felt hot despite the chilly morning air and he couldn’t quite bring himself to meet Akira’s eyes. He took a quick glance around, confirming that they were really alone. It should be fine, right? As long as no one saw?

He swallowed his nerves and began, “Kurusu—” stopped, corrected himself, “Akira.”

“Hmm?”

“Can I… Kiss you?”

Akira grin became sharper, more cat-like. “Of course, honey. As much as you want.”

Goro took a step closer, until he could feel Akira’s warm breath over his face. The other boy was watching over the rims of his glasses, waiting for Goro to make his move. His dark eyes glittered with mischief and no small amount of desire.

Stop second guessing yourself and just do it, Goro scolded himself. He held his breath and closed the distance between their lips. Akira melted into him immediately, sighing through his nose. His hands came up to weave through Goro’s hair, leaving trails of fire in their wake.

Testing the limits of what he could get away with, Goro wrapped his arms around Akira’s waist and deepened the kiss. Akira made a pleased little noise into his mouth and swiped his tongue between Goro’s lips. When Goro gasped in surprise, Akira’s bit down on his lower lip playfully.

They were both panting when they finally pulled apart, their breath clouding into the frigid air between them. Goro was sure his face was about to catch on fire. Akira’s glasses were fogged, and he had that self-satisfied look that Goro associated with Joker on his face. 

“You’re so cute, Goro,” Akira murmured, sending a thrill through Goro’s belly. His hands moved out of Goro’s hair to cradle his face instead. “I don’t know how I got so lucky.”

I’m the lucky one, Goro wanted to say, but he was having trouble untwisting his tongue enough to talk.

“So I was thinking,” Akira said, turning to keep following the path through the park. He tugged a dazed Goro along by the hand beside him. “After our morning stroll, there’s a bakery not too far from here that I wanted to try. Ann said their pastries are to die for.” He gestured with his free hand while he talked, smiling while he went over all the plans he made for today. “After that, we can catch a movie in Shibuya before dinner. There’s this murder-mystery movie playing that Makoto said you’d like, so we could give it a try. 

“And then...” he paused, giving Goro a suggestive wink. “I was thinking we could head back to my place.”

At least Goro couldn’t get any redder at this point. “Th-That…” He cleared his throat, tried to regain some of his usual composure. “That all sounds lovely, Akira.”

Akira beamed at him, and Goro wished he could burn the sight of it into his memory. 

The other boy pulled him closer to the lake, stooping to pick up a flat rock. “Check this out, Ryuji showed me a way to skip rocks over the ice,” he said, lining up his shot. “It works best when the ice is really thin like this.

Goro was more than happy to let himself be amused by his boyfriend’s antics. Anything he picked up from Ryuji was bound to be entertaining. That boy was responsible for all of Akira’s worst ideas. Not that that was a bad thing; Goro loved nothing more than to laugh while Akira made a fool of himself.

What did I do to deserve him? He couldn’t help but wonder, marvelling at the way the morning sunlight played over Akira’s dark curls. He should despise me, after everything I’ve done.

After everything…? What had he done to make Akira hate him? Sure, Goro could be rather abrasive at times, but Akira never minded. In fact, he seemed to enjoy it whenever Goro dropped the polite prince act. Akira was one of the only people in the world Goro could really be himself around.

Shaking the thought away, Goro watched Akira pull his arm back and hurl the stone out over the pond. His red wool glove was the only point of color in the monochrome winter morning. The stone pinged across the surface three times before disappearing into a break in the ice with a splash. Cheering for himself, Akira whirled back to Goro with his hand raised for a high-five. 

For a split second, Goro saw that same hand reaching towards him, grasping at the air between them. The face behind it twisted in a scream, grey eyes wild with desperation behind the black and white domino mask. A metal wall slamming shut between them.

Sharp pain lanced through his skull again and Goro staggered to the side. He clutched at his head, groaning through his teeth. The ache faded after a moment, and the terrible vision went with it. 

Warm hands caught him when he faltered, wrapping around his upper arms to steady him. “Are you okay?”

Goro looked up to meet Akira’s gaze. His brow was furrowed with worry, eyes roaming over Goro’s face. When he didn’t respond immediately, Akira pulled off a glove with his teeth and pressed the back of his hand to Goro’s forehead.

“You look pale,” he murmured, sliding his hand down to cup Goro’s cheek. “We can just head back if you’re not feeling okay.”

Guilt flooded his stomach and he screwed his eyes shut. I made him worry. He took a deep breath to steady himself and opened his eyes again, starting to say, “Yes, sorry, I’m f—”

The words died out with a strangled little noise from his throat. Sickly bruises spread across Akira’s face, ones that definitely weren’t there a second ago. His eyes were wide, unseeing, staring blankly ahead. Crimson blood gushed from a hole blown through his forehead, sliding over his swollen cheeks and slack jaw.

“Goro?” Akira’s voice said, though his mouth didn’t move.

He blinked and the blood was gone. Akira’s face was uninjured, intelligent eyes once again watching him with no small amount of alarm.

Goro pushed him away, scrambling back a few paces. His breath was coming in short gasps, the cold air burning through his lungs. The sound of his pulse throbbing in his ears was nearly deafening. What the hell is happening to me?!

Those hands were on him again, pulling him toward one of the benches beside the pond. They guided him to sit down, falling to wrap around his own hands in his lap. “Hey, breathe for me, okay?” Akira said from somewhere far away. “You’re okay, Goro. I’m right here.”

“This is… Wrong,” Goro choked out. His eyes were burning with tears for the second time today.

“What’s wrong, Goro?”

“Stop calling me that,” Goro snapped, unable to help himself. His head buzzed, churning with contradicting memories. “You don’t call me by my name, no one does. No one ever has!”

Not since my mother — Not since she —  

Akira’s brow pinched together. “All of our friends call you Goro these days,” he said slowly, carefully. “You’re just confused. Take a deep breath and try to calm down.”

Goro gripped his head, a whimper escaping his clenched teeth. All of it was wrong, none of this was supposed to be happening. His father living at his apartment, his mother’s smiling face, Akira’s gentle concern… All of it made him sick.

“Let’s think about something happy, alright?” Akira was still talking, rubbing soothing circles into Goro’s arms. “Remember how we all met up at LeBlanc to celebrate New Year’s? Even Makoto’s sister was there.” His hands moved up to hold Goro’s face, brushing his thumbs over the tears starting to roll down his cheeks. “Sojiro made soba and everyone teased us for kissing at midnight. Wasn’t that fun, Goro?”

Goro’s head throbbed again. He did remember; of course he could recall something that only happened a few days ago. It was clear as day, the memory of being surrounded by his friends and the scent of Sojiro’s delicious cooking. How Kasumi and Yusuke wolfed down their noodles like they hadn’t eaten in months. He remembered laughing when Ryuji challenged Akira to see who could eat more, and they both wound up with stomach aches. The way Futaba gagged and Ryuji wolf-whistled when Akira kissed him at the stroke of midnight. Akira’s sweet whisper of, “Happy New Year, Goro.”

At the same time, he remembered something very different on that same day. Stumbling back to his empty apartment after being released from police custody. Scouring the internet for articles about his crimes, his connection to Shido, and finding nothing. Feeling his whole world spinning off-kilter, because he was pretty sure he was supposed to be dead .

Despite the agony threatening to split his skull in two, Goro drilled in on those memories. He followed them back through time, back to a stinking engine room and a terrible mirror image of himself. Back to a gun pressed against Akira’s forehead, the blood that coated the table after he pulled the trigger. To Kunikazu Okumura’s collapse on live television, and the many people before him whose names Goro couldn’t even remember. The night that Goro spent hunched over in his bathroom after he learned what became of Wakaba Isshiki. The day he first set foot in Shido’s office, the first step in his doomed revenge scheme. The many different homes he passed through, the neglect he suffered at the hands of people who didn’t want him.

The sight of his mother lying dead in a bathtub.

It hurt, it hurt so much to remember the string of disasters that made up his miserable life. He clung to that pain anyway, the only thing that was real in this false world.

How could I believe in this, even for a second? Goro thought, with a manic giggle. How could I forget what I really am?

“Goro, please look at me,” the false Akira begged him.

“Shut up,” Goro blinked tears from his eyes so he could glare at him properly. “You’re not real.”

The hurt on Akira’s face was almost enough for Goro to feel regret. “What are you talking about? Goro, honey—”

“Shut up! ” Goro shrieked, shoving the imposter away from him. He lunged when Akira fell back, forcing him to the ground. His hands moved with a mind of their own, curling around Akira’s slender throat. 

The fake didn’t even fight back. He just splayed out beneath him, his own eyes brimming with tears behind his glasses. “I want — you — to be — happy,” he gasped, struggling to draw breath around the pressure on his windpipe.

“I don’t deserve to be happy!” Goro pressed down harder, feeling a wild sort of satisfaction as he saw Akira’s eyes start to gloss over. “I’m a monster, remember?! Here, I’ll prove it to you!”

“G-Goro,” Akira choked out, his cheeks slick with tears. Only now did he wrap weak fingers around Goro’s arms, a futile attempt to push him off. “I — love —”

Goro tightened his grip, cutting off Akira’s air before he could finish that sentence. “Don’t you dare,” he hissed. “No one has ever loved me. And no one ever will.” A surge of fury egged him on, and he felt himself grin as he watched the light fade in Akira’s eyes. 

When it did, Akira’s face started to blur. His body melted away, dissolving into the ground beneath him. The whole world shimmered around him, but Goro hardly paid it any mind. He was doubled over, on his hands and knees, struggling to hold down the self-loathing climbing up his throat.

He sensed, rather than saw, someone else’s presence. They simply appeared, standing over him, watching silently while Goro dry-heaved into the dirt. Once Goro had better control over himself, he lifted his eyes enough to find pristine white shoes and pants waiting for him.

“What gave it away this time?” Maruki asked quietly.

Months ago, he may have found it humiliating to be seen like this. He couldn’t find the strength to stand up and face Maruki, forced to kneel in the dirt with freezing tears clinging to his face. 

But honestly, he just couldn’t bring himself to care anymore.

Goro sneered, even as he wiped spittle from his chin. “ You can’t fix me,” he panted, raising his head to fix the man with an icy stare. “Just change a few memories, and you think everything will work out?” A broken little laugh escaped him. “My entire existence is a mistake.” 

After a few painful heartbeats, Maruki lowered himself down on one knee. He had that look on his face again. It was the same way he looked at Sumire, all pity and disappointment and agony . As if just seeing someone suffer was enough to cause him physical pain. That I-Know-Best condescension was already bad enough when it was directed at someone else. Finding himself on the receiving end of Maruki’s compassion sent searing hatred sparking through every last fiber of Goro’s being.

At least hatred was familiar. He clung to it for years, using it as the source of his power. Grabbing hold of that feeling, Goro managed to steady his breathing and calm the tremors in his hands. He pushed himself into a more upright position, able to meet Maruki’s gaze with defiance.

Maruki’s mouth twisted into a troubled frown. “Why do you insist on hating yourself?” he asked, with such genuine sadness that it made Goro’s nausea that much worse. “In this world, I can erase all of your crimes. I can give you the family you never had. You could be happy here… With Kurusu-kun.”

“Go fuck yourself,” Goro forced out through his teeth. New tears stung at his aching eyes and he scrubbed them away. “You think I want to live in this fantasy? Playing house with a puppet?!” His voice grew stronger with each word, until he was screaming in Maruki’s face. He fisted his hands in the front of Maruki’s immaculate white jacket, eager to ruin something about his angelic image. “You don’t know a goddamn thing about me!”

What Maruki suggested was nothing short of revolting. For whatever else Goro was, he wasn’t despicable enough to trap Kurusu with him. To brainwash him, remove his agency and force him to act like he actually loved Goro… He couldn’t think of anything more disgusting. How could Maruki actually believe Goro would do something so heinous to the one person he ever considered calling a friend?

Maruki let himself be yanked about. Let Goro shake him this way and that, let him tear at that hideous white suit until the seams began to rip. While he waited for Goro to tire himself out, his expression had taken a turn towards grief. Like he was watching a person with a terminal illness in their hospital bed, instead of a teenager throwing a tantrum.

Oh, I’m just getting started! Goro thought mutinously. He pulled a fist back, planning to break the doctor’s glasses. And hopefully his nose, for good measure.

Maruki caught his arm before the blow could land. He grabbed his other arm as well, holding on to Goro’s wrists between them. Despite his scrawny appearance, the man’s grip was like iron. One of the perks of creating his own fantasy land, Goro could only assume.

“Why are you so certain,” he said, speaking calmly over Goro’s howl of rage. “That Kurusu-kun doesn’t feel the same way?”

“ Fuck you! ”

He was not going to have this conversation. Not with Maruki, not with anyone. Any chance he might have had with Kurusu died the moment he tried to put a bullet in his head. Goro chose his path a long time ago; he couldn’t start having regrets now that he was… Now that Goro was…

His breath hitched. Hot tears cut tracks down his cheeks again, despite his best efforts to contain them. This man made him cry more in one day than he had in years.

“Let me out,” Goro said, his voice hoarse and strained. At least it didn’t crack. “Bring me back to your Palace, and I’ll show you exactly what I think of this detestable world of yours.”

Maruki heaved a sigh, shaking his head. But he released Goro’s arms and got to his feet again. “Akira-kun’s wish was for you to return,” he said, smoothing the front of his suit. It repaired itself under his touch. No wrinkles, no stains, not a single stitch out of place. “Whatever you think of yourself, he still cares about you.”

Goro dragged his body to stand up as well, swaying on the spot. He folded his arms, waiting for the man to finish babbling.

“If you erase my reality, you know what will happen, don’t you?” Maruki went on, a pleading note in his tone. “Everything will go back to the way it’s ‘supposed’ to be. You…” Were there actually tears in his eyes as well? “You’ll disappear.”

Good.

“I. Don’t. Care.” Goro bit out. “I’m done talking to you. End this charade, now. ”

Maruki sighed again, his shoulders sagging in defeat. Reluctantly, he raised a hand and snapped his fingers.

Returning was like being dropped from a great height. Landing back in his own body, Goro hit the ground immediately. His throat and eyes burned and he gagged, choking on the bile rising in his throat. Something around his legs loosened, snaking tendrils retreating back to their master.

Distantly, he could hear someone else coughing nearby. A deeper voice, achingly familiar.

Goro blinked bleary eyes open. He was met with the clean ivory walls of Maruki’s Palace, gold accents glittering under the brilliant lights. The man himself stood opposite him, still cradling Sumire’s limp body in his arms. He was wearing that awful pitying expression again.

“Crow,” Kurusu’s voice croaked beside him. Red gloves found their way to him, wrapping warm fingers around his upper arms. “Are you alright?”

His stomach threatened to revolt again. Guilt seized his chest and Goro wrenched himself out of Kurusu’s grasp. “Get off me!” He sounded like a wounded animal, even to his own ears. Swallowing a breath, he forced a derisive sneer into his voice. “Of course I’m fine! I didn’t ask for your concern!”

Despite the harsh words, Kurusu had the gall to smile. He clambered to his feet before Goro could slap it off his face. Following his lead, Goro forced his wobbly legs to lift him up as well.

Glaring daggers at Maruki, Kurusu’s voice was surprisingly level when he said, “Give her to us.”

Maruki gave them an ironic smile. “I’m afraid you’re in no position to be making demands right now.”

As much as he was loath to admit it, Goro knew he was right. His own legs felt like they would give out from a slight breeze. Every breath was a struggle to fill his aching lungs, and his eyes still stung like he just finished crying. With the state he was in, he wasn’t sure he could even summon his Persona, let alone do battle with the Shadows here.

Kurusu didn’t seem to be faring much better. His chest was heaving and his hand trembled around the hilt of his dagger. Still, there was a fire in his eyes that sent a shiver down Goro’s spine. If Kurusu ordered him to attack, Goro knew he would have no choice but to obey. He would gladly fight to the death as long as he had Kurusu beside him.

Not that he could ever tell him that.

Goro drew his sword again, pointing its shaking tip at Maruki. “You heard him,” he growled, dripping venom. “Hand her over.”

“I can’t do that,” Maruki replied firmly. “Don’t worry, I won’t hurt her. But as I already said, she wishes to live in this world as Kasumi. I can’t let you take her, with things as they are now.”

Kurusu’s jaw clenched, the grip on his dagger growing steadier. He was preparing to fight for Sumire.

“How about this,” Maruki went on. He shifted Sumire’s weight so he could hold up a finger, like he was teaching a class. “If you two won’t accept my reality, perhaps you’ll do it for your friends. Go out and see how they’re already enjoying their new lives. Once you’ve seen how happy they are here, I’m sure you’ll change your minds.”

“As if we’ll just go quietly,” Goro jeered.

“I’m sorry, but that’s not up to you.” There was a flash of light, and Maruki vanished. “You have one week,” his voice reverberated around them in his absence. “Go meet with your friends, and give me your answer on January 9th.”

The ground became more solid under his feet, a clear indication that they were back in the real world. Well, ‘real’, relatively speaking. This delusional fantasy world they found themselves was far from real , but it wasn’t the Metaverse. 

Maruki’s Palace still flickered in and out of view, towering over the construction site. Goro had to look away; staring at the abhorrent thing made him feel sick to his stomach all over again. 

Kurusu staggered against the fence as soon as they exited the Palace. The color was drained from his face, leaving him pale and gaunt. His fingers laced into the chain links, holding him up while he fought to catch his breath. Goro tried not to think of how well those same fingers fit together with his.

“That sucked,” he said at length.

“Agreed,” Goro grunted. He tugged at his collar, hating how tight it suddenly felt around his throat. It reminded him too much of those hideous tendrils wrapped around him. Even back in this reality, he still felt off-balance.

Probably because I don’t belong here.

Without another word, Goro turned on his heel to leave. Before he could take a single step, Kurusu’s hand shot out to grab him by the arm again. “Wait, Akechi,” he said, pulling Goro back around to face him. “We need to figure out what to do about Sumire.”

The sound of his last name sounded grating coming from Kurusu, all of a sudden. He didn’t want to admit to himself how much he liked hearing the name Goro fall from Kurusu’s lips. 

He jerked out of Kurusu’s grip. “Going after her now would be suicide. Look at yourself,” he scoffed, gesturing to Kurusu’s trembling legs. “You can barely even stand. You won’t be able to help anyone in this state.”

Kurusu looked affronted, but Goro didn’t give him the chance to argue. “What we need right now is information. I’ll do some investigating on my own, see if I can dig up a weakness for Takuto Maruki. Meanwhile, you,” he jabbed Kurusu in the chest, smug when he stumbled back a step. “Need to recover your strength.”

“Right back at you,” Kurusu huffed. He shoved Goro, smirking at how Goro had to latch onto the fence to stay upright. The playful look faltered, melting into something Goro couldn’t quite read. “Akechi… What did Maruki show you? After we got captured by those… Tentacle things?”

Goro balled his hands into fists at his sides. He forced himself not to think of extravagant bouquets, of soft lips pressed against his. “Nothing you should concern yourself with,” he muttered, because the truth was far too painful. Raising his eyes to meet those prying silver ones, he asked, “What about you?”

Kurusu averted his gaze sharply. The light caught on his glasses, hiding his face from view. “...Nothing,” he said at length. He fiddled with the ends of his hair, looping the curls around his dexterous fingers. It was a tell-tale sign that he was hiding something.

But then again, so was Goro.

“Glad we’re on the same page.” Goro turned away again, unable to stand another minute in Kurusu’s suffocating presence. Waving over his shoulder, he called, “I’ll be in touch. See you in a week, Kurusu.”

Mercifully, his apartment was empty when he got there. No cloying visions of his dead mother or monstrous father greeted him. Just bare walls and empty shelves. 

Goro locked the door and shed his outer layers. He left his coat and gloves scattered haphazardly across the floor of his living room. Once he was alone in his room he threw himself onto his bed, still mostly dressed. He was just too exhausted to care. Curling his body into a tight ball, he buried his face in the pillows and let a sob wrack his body.

Whatever Kurusu and his friends decided in the end, Goro was sure he would lose.