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A light snowfall dusted the Tokyo streets on the second of February 2017. It was a pleasant surprise for the residents of a city known for its humidity and near-unbearable temperatures in the summertime. Nothing too severe as to delay trains or cancel schools, just enough to be a welcome change of pace to an otherwise uneventful Thursday in the dead of winter.
What a beautiful day for Akira Kurusu’s entire world to come crashing down around him. The gentle descent of snowflakes could never hope to compare.
He found himself sat on a bench in Inokashira park just a few minutes after one in the afternoon of February the second. The snowfall was only just beginning to cover the typically bright-green grass in a blanket of white. Swaddled in a school-issued heavy winter coat and scarf hand-knit by Haru; the temperature wouldn’t bother him even if it was below what most of Tokyo was used to. Growing up in the northern countryside lended itself to a bit more cold resistance than the urban streets could offer.
Even still, when Maruki took a seat next to him and handed him one of the two cups of hot chocolate he was carrying, the gesture did not go unappreciated.
The doctor cleared his throat after taking a sip from his own cup. “Sorry for calling you out here like this. I wanted to have this conversation on neutral ground.” Akira could feel the man shiver slightly next to him. “Though I’ll admit the warmth of Leblanc does sound enticing right about now.”
“It’s not too bad.” The hot chocolate, while obviously high quality, was overly sweetened and made Akira’s teeth hurt. Sojiro had taught him a much better technique to dial back the sugar while not sacrificing the rich flavour. The intricacies of a hot chocolate blend wasn’t something he’d ever have noticed a year ago.
“Ah, that’s right. You’re from the countryside, aren’t you Kurusu-san?” Maruki chuckled. “You must be more adapted to this weather than a lot of people here. Myself not excluded.”
The fact that he has never directly told Maruki what part of the country he was from wore on him, and Akira found himself wanting to change the subject. “What did you need to talk to me about?”
Maruki asks him about how Sumire is managing, to which Akira responds that she has significant support from him and the other thieves. He’s countered with a point that she can’t keep fighting forever, that she’d be so much happier without worries, completely convinced she’s living the life of her late sister like she had been until just a month ago.
“But that’s not Sumire. If we accept your reality, she won’t be herself anymore.”
“You’re scared of losing her, I understand. But this course of action is what she wants. She’s not as strong as the front she’s putting up to assuage your fears.”
Akira’s grip on the paper cup tightens ever so slightly. The heat pushes through his cheap gloves to his skin. “That’s not true.” You don’t know her like I know her remains unsaid.
“Kurusu-kun…” Maruki turns to look at Akira properly but the latter doesn’t return the gesture; instead focusing on a single snowflake melting as it hits the pavement. “Your friends aside, is there really nothing about this reality that you’d be losing if you denied it?”
“That’s beside the point.” Akira answers automatically. “This isn’t about me.”
Next to him, he hears Maruki shift. Akira’s eyes remain glued to the ground. “You and Yoshizawa-san aren’t very different at all. You’ll both sacrifice your wellbeing if it means others won’t worry.” Before Akira can reply, Maruki continues, “I’m giving you a choice in an outcome where you previously didn’t have one.” And Akira’s entire body straightens to look Maruki in the eyes. “If you revert to your previous reality, I’m afraid Akechi-kun won’t be able to return with you.”
Akira tries to find something in Maruki’s eyes that tell him he’s lying, bluffing, just a last ditch effort to win-
“Does he know?”
Maruki nods slowly. “I haven’t talked to him about it directly, but, I assume he is aware, yes.”
Hot liquid seeps through the cloth of Akira’s gloves and he realizes he’s squeezed the cup too tightly. If he could he would apologize to Maruki for not enjoying the gift; but he’s lost his appetite all at once. Somehow the idea that Goro didn’t tell him of their circumstances hurts more than the circumstances themselves; Akira had assumed they were done hiding things from each other- but a month wasn’t going to suddenly undo all the repression Akechi’s life had forced him to adopt.
“Kurusu-kun, I truly have nothing but gratitude for you,” Maruki’s words feel very far away despite Akira holding complete eye contact with him. “My research would have never been able to reach completion if not for your help- that’s why I want to avoid a confrontation in the metaverse.”
When Akira doesn’t answer, Maruki exhales and stands to leave. “Think about it, please. For me, as well as Akechi-kun.” Akira’s senses return just in time to hand Maruki the calling card tucked in his coat pocket. The other accepts it with a nod, and leaves without saying goodbye.
The train home is less crowded than usual. Akira would assume it is a side-effect of this reality, but he can’t focus on anything at the moment. His head feels fuzzy and the pit in his stomach widens with every stop closer to Yongen-Jaya. His phone is heavy in his hands, the text he’s typed and untyped to Goro now just a dull, small line blinking in time with the textbox. For the first time in a very long time, he feels exceedingly alone.
It feels like all the times at the beginning of the school year; when he wasn’t sure if he’d ever be able to adjust to Tokyo after a lifetime of only knowing the countryside. When he was unsure if he could connect with people here- and when he met Ryuji and Ann, didn’t know if he’d be strong enough to properly help them like they needed.
Akira found his place helping people who needed it. It made him who he was, and he was comfortable with that. He loved his friends more than anything and would willingly and without hesitation sacrifice his own plans and convenience if it meant that he’d be able to ease their troubles. It felt right, like it was where he was meant to be.
But this feeling, this thick feeling in his throat, he wasn’t used to at all. Being forced to consider his own true emotions in the face of all this pressure was too much.
His mind kept returning to the thought of: how was he going to tell Sumire?
The three of them had stuck together, found themselves in each other in a closeness Akira had never experienced with any of his other friends. He had always assumed the three of them could do anything together, they had seemed unstoppable in their teamwork and synchronicity. If he had known about this he would have never involved her in this.
Akira had never doubted denying this reality until Maruki spoke Akechi’s name.
He steps off the train a station early and walks the suburban backstreets trying to steady his breathing. Trying to figure out how to contact the two of them. He doesn’t know if he can. His feet almost take a detour to Boss’s house to knock on Futaba’s door and ask for the anxiety medication she uses when her panic attacks get too bad for her to sleep. But he knows no goodbye at all would be much worse than his best attempt at one. The thing is, he can’t say goodbye again. Akira is sure he doesn’t have it in him, and he knows he has to.
When he opens the door to Leblanc, the two people he most wanted to see and the two he was dreading encountering most are waiting for him.
Goro and Sumire sit alone at the same booth in an empty cafe.
“Senpai,” Sumire is quick to his side, pulling him into a firm hug. “Did you meet with Doctor Maruki?”
“Yeah, I did.” Akira’s eyes are fixed on Akechi. “He, uhm-”
“He told you then.” Goro cuts him off. “Figures. If he was going to clue you in, he’d save it until the day before.”
“How long has it been since you’ve known?”
“We both did.” Akechi replies.
“Both…?” Akira stares incredulously.
Sumire pulls on his arm and guides him to the booth. “Here, come sit with us.” Akira takes his place next to Sumire with Goro across from them. It feels a bit too much like an interrogation for his liking, to be honest. “I don’t understand. Why wouldn’t you tell me if both of you knew?”
Goro clears his throat. “I always had an inkling. The memories from when I fought all of you to when I met you that night in station square are almost completely missing from my mind. I figured that either I had a gap in my memory spanning more than a week, or…” He pauses. “Or I was a case like Okumura and Isshiki. Brought back.”
“I told Sumire-san before she got involved with me.” He continues. “I wanted to make certain she knew the full scope of the situation, and was free to make her choice after having all the facts.”
“You don’t know that they’re facts.” Akira’s tongue feels heavy and dry in his mouth. He must have sounded more upset than he thought, because Sumire reaches to hold his hand in hers.
“We have thought about that, too. But the fact of the matter is that Goro-senpai was afraid that you’d be too influenced by the idea of…” Akira hears the pain in her words. She’s so strong to even be talking about it like this. “Of losing him. That you’d make the wrong decision.”
Akira can’t help but scoff. “Is that what you think? That your life is the incorrect choice?” He can’t help the shake in his voice, his heart suddenly hammering against his chest. Goro is ready to cut his argument off. “I am not about to allow you to sacrifice everything just because of me. It’s not what I want, and I won’t allow you to fold in this way.” He hisses. “You’re better than to fall for a half-assed trick like this.”
“You didn’t tell me, Goro! Neither of you told me anything! You didn’t even stop to consider that I might want to say goodbye?” He feels Sumire’s hand on his face and he realizes that his cheeks are wet. The lenses in his glasses are too blurry to see out of, and he sheds them in favour of rubbing his eyes raw. Why does he even still wear those, he’s never had a problem with vision in his life. When he first moved to the city, they were a sort of mask for him, but now, after a year of changes, he supposes he should stop pretending to hide.
The situation hurts more than anything because he knows that he has a responsibility, he knows that Goro won’t let him have a choice; Akira knows that it’s his duty to help his friends get out of this false reality and allow them to carve their own path. He supposes he just has always assumed that his relationship with Sumire and Goro was one thing he did have control over, and now it was being ripped away from him.
To his surprise, Akechi slides into the booth next to him, situating Akira between both him and Sumire. “It would be a lie to say that I haven’t grown accustomed to being alongside the two of you.” He lets his hand fall into Akira’s. “But this is the only option we have. You of all people know that I am done letting anyone else decide my life for me.” It’s a rare, genuine tone that Goro’s voice takes.
“I gave him the calling card.” Akira says after a while. “There won’t be any changes to the infiltration plan we had agreed on.”
“There is one caveat,” Akechi adds. “Sumire-san had deduced from the information we gathered in Maruki’s palace.”
Sumire nods next to him. “Doctor Maruki was able to grant our desires based on what he knew about us. Based on our perception of events…”
“What means that his knowledge only extends to what each of us believe to be true.” Akechi finishes.
“Senpai… if you believed that the fight in the engine room was the last time you saw Akechi-senpai… then that’s the information Doctor Maruki went off of.”
“Because you didn’t have any evidence to support otherwise, Maruki went ahead and fixed your regret.”
“I see.” Akira tries to calm the heart stuttering in his chest.
Goro sighs. “Nothing is conclusive. My memory is too fuzzy to help us determine anything; but if you return to our reality, then there is a chance.”
“So, it's…” Akira begins, blinking tears from his eyes and looking up to face both of them.
“A leap of faith.” Sumire finishes for him.
If only slightly, the weight in his stomach subsides. If there’s even the slimmest chance, Akira will take it; they’ll just need to fight for their existence. Akira’s feelings of dread evolve into determination to fight even harder to deny this reality. It’s nothing they can’t overcome together, he’ll make sure of it. Before he can stop himself, he’s on his feet and up the stairs to the small bedroom. Neither Goro or Sumire has a chance to ask where he went when he comes back holding something in his hand.
Three chess pieces spread out on the table; two kings and a queen.
“What is this, Senpai?” Sumire asks.
“A promise to find you.” Akira replies, pressing the white king piece into Goro’s gloved hand. “No matter what.”
“This is sickeningly sentimental, even for you.” Goro scoffs, but accepts the piece regardless. “Sakura-san’s going to be missing three very important pieces to his chess set, you know.”
Sumire takes the white queen, leaving Akira with the black king piece. “I know.” He smiles.
They spend the rest of the night talking. Discussing battle tactics turns into simply enjoying each other’s company. The three of them spend the night at Leblanc, and despite them being squeezed into Akira’s twin size futon, he already misses the feeling.