Chapter Text
As he was climbing the several thousand steps towards Death’s chambers, Goro Akechi had to wonder why the headmaster of Death Weapon Meister Academy wanted to talk to him, of all people. Through some polite questioning of the other incoming students, he seemed to be the only one who got a special invitation.
… it had to be something positive, right? According to his acceptance letter, he had passed the entrance exam with flying colors. He couldn’t have done anything to get in trouble yet …
(unless of course, Death had done his homework and looked into his past, but no, that was impossible, he was very good at covering his tracks -)
No more time for nervous theorizing - here he was, at the large, ornate door that he was told to find. He pushed it open, expecting dark colors and dim lighting, with perhaps some macabre decorations.
Instead, he was met with soft velvet blue hues and plush armchairs, with an old jazz record playing on a gramophone. He had also pictured Death as more of a tall, skeletal being with a flowing black robe, but at the large oak desk sat a shorter, balding man in a suit with bloodshot eyes and the longest nose that Goro had ever seen.
(don’t comment on the nose, don’t comment on the nose -)
Goro cleared his throat and greeted, “Nose to meet you, Headmaster.”
(shit)
Goro coughed and tried to start over. “I mean, uh - nice to meet you, Headmaster Death, I didn’t mean -”
“Oh, don’t worry,” he said with a dismissive wave of his hand. “I get that a lot. And, uh, I’m not really fond of the whole ‘Headmaster Death’ title … My name is Igor.”
He bowed politely. “And my name is Goro Akechi.”
Igor smiled and skimmed through a small packet of papers on his desk. “Yes, yes, I have your application and exam right here … can you give me a summary of your weapon form?”
Goro straightened his spine. “A sword - two swords, actually. A laser saber with long range capabilities and a serrated blade for close combat.”
Igor nodded as he continued to thumb through the application. “I see. And it appears that you’ve been working and training on your own, without a meister?”
A knot formed in his stomach - the same knot that formed when anyone tried to imply that he should find a meister. He thought he covered this in the essay portion of his application, but Goro supposed he needed to go through it again. Taking small, calculated steps towards the desk, he began explaining, “As I mentioned in my application essay, I don’t need a meister. I delayed coming here for an extra year so I could continue to train on my own. I was assured by multiple people that I could get through DWMA as a solo weapon.”
Igor leaned forward and steepled his fingers. “And if that is still your wish at the end of the semester, you may do so. But in the meantime, could you humor an old man?”
Goro gritted his teeth. All that extra work, and he was still going to have a meister forced on him? Lowering his voice, he growled, “I swore to become the most powerful weapon on my own! I’ve had a lot of people try to be my meister, and they all failed. No meister can match my soul wavelength!”
Igor smiled and glanced at something past Goro’s right shoulder. “And what would you say if I found one?”
Following his line of sight, Goro turned around to see another boy, reclining lazily in one of the armchairs, with his elbow on the armrest, propping up his chin. His messy black hair partially obscured his cold, gray eyes, and his small, amused smile made Goro feel like a small prey animal being stalked by a large panther.
No. He wasn’t prey, he was a goddamn weapon, and this kid wasn’t some apex predator, he was some house cat about to bite off more than he could chew. He applied as a solo weapon, and dammit, he was going to get through this stupid school as a solo weapon.
He turned to glare at Igor, who rested his arms on his desk. “Humor me?” he asked again.
Goro frowned and turned to the other boy - who, without Goro noticing, had stood up and closed the distance between them in the few seconds he wasn’t paying attention.
If any surprise showed on his face (which it probably did), the other boy either didn’t notice or didn’t care. Holding out his hand, the other boy said, “I’m Akira Kurusu.”
Goro sighed. This wasn’t how he imagined his first day going, and since the headmaster was watching, he supposed he should take it easy on this disheveled house cat. He could always overwhelm him with his soul wavelength tomorrow - make him cry and flee in fear like every other meister that had tried.
“... Goro Akechi,” he said stiffly before taking his hand.
… warm. He felt warm.
Without even realizing it, he had switched to his laser saber form.
He had never met someone else like this - as soon as their souls came into contact, he felt like he had come home -
Wait, what was he doing?! He didn’t need a meister, he didn’t need anyone -
With a surge of anger (and a little bit of what he would never admit was embarrassment), Goro adjusted his wavelength, only intending on burning Akira’s hands a little, just enough for him to let go -
And that warm feeling came back.
As nice as this feeling was - no, this was not “nice,” this was “insulting,” he shouldn’t be feeling this way at all - he was letting Akira win, and damn if this stupid house cat could win against him -
Goro adjusted his wavelength more - now this level of distortion between wavelengths, this was enough to send normal people running -
And once again, Akira managed to match his wavelength.
This was goddamn infuriating - this pompous house cat thought he could keep up with him - well, screw the fact that Igor was watching, this house cat needed to g̴o̸ ̸A̴W̸A̴Y̶
Akira finally let go, and Goro’s sword form clattered unceremoniously on the ground. He switched back to his human form and got to his feet, dusting himself off. He glanced at Akira, expecting to see some hint of horror on that smug face of his - and found none. Instead, he looked curious and intrigued.
Oh, great.
Goro turned to Igor, expecting him to have sensed something, realized that he made a mistake and assigned this house cat a weapon far too dangerous for him to handle -
Igor nodded approvingly and reminded him, “One semester.”
Goro shoved his hands in his pockets as he walked, only half-listening to Akira as he gave a tour of DWMA. This whole situation was pissing him off: apparently, only weapons that couldn’t possibly be wielded effectively by a meister, like a guillotine, were allowed to immediately go solo. For weapons that could be used by a meister but chose to act alone, the headmaster always insisted that they spend their first semester trying to find a compatible meister.
(Akira had also added that all weapons that took this route eventually found a meister, like that would somehow convince him to stay.)
“... and over there are the student dorms, but you don’t need to worry much about those, since you won’t be staying there,” Akira explained.
Goro sighed heavily. “Thank god, I don’t have to deal with a roommate.”
At this, Akira fell silent and started tugging at a strand of his hair. “Um … actually …”
(Oh god no.)
Goro pinched the bridge of his nose. “Don’t tell me …”
Akira scratched the back of his neck. “If it makes you feel any better -”
“It won’t.”
“- it’s a two bedroom, so you’ll have your own room. But we share the living room and kitchen.”
Goro growled as he buried his face in his hands. “This whole weapon-meister shit is so pointless, why do I even -”
Akira folded his arms. “Why do you not want a meister?”
That knot in his stomach again -
(why did he always have such a visceral reaction to the idea of having a meister)
A little more forcefully than he meant to, he snapped, “Because other people are useless! The only person I can depend on is me!”
With a small “oh,” Akira finally shut up for a minute.
Now that he had some time to think without interruption, Goro recalled that Akira was in his second year, which meant that he should have a weapon partner, but for some reason, his apartment had a free room. Which meant …
Without so much as a hint of shame, he asked, “So, what happened to your weapon? You know, the one before me?”
Akira’s wavelength changed subtly (Goro would worry about how he knew that later) as he shifted his weight. “I, uh … I’m a special case …”
Goro scoffed. “‘Special?’”
As if responding to the sarcasm, Akira pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose as he continued, “I have this ability to sync my wavelength to almost any other weapon’s. Since not many people can do that, Igor decided to have me focus on training that by helping … problem weapons sync with a meister.”
Goro decided to ignore that insult as he considered his mixed feelings. On one hand, if he was going to have a meister, shouldn’t it be someone special? Someone truly unique?
(someone like him?)
On the other hand, the knot in his stomach was twisting, as if someone was trying to vivisect him with a dull knife. No, there was a reason, a very important reason why he didn’t want a meister …
With a poisonous edge to his voice, Goro commented, “So … all those problem weapons and not a single one wanted to stay with you?”
Akira’s right eye twitched. As small as the reaction was, Goro felt satisfied that he had finally annoyed him.
With a huff, Akira motioned for Goro to follow him. “Let’s go, problem weapon. You need to unpack, don’t you?”
Goro folded his arms. “Don’t think you can order me around, you stupid house cat …”
Goro meant to avoid training with Akira for as long as possible, but unfortunately, he now attended a school where his grades depended on working with him. In the second week of school, they had a practical class - some combat practice against robots. This would be simple enough on his own, but of course, the assignment was to be completed with his meister.
If it were any other teacher, Goro would have considered skipping, but Mitsuru Kirijo was the one teacher he didn’t want to cross.
He leaned against the wall in the observation room as he tried not to look at the pair currently trying to clear robots in the arena. They were supposed to be watching each other and learning from everyone’s mistakes, but god, watching these two was like receiving a botched icepick lobotomy. The blond vulgar boy was blindly swinging his weapon around, which would be great if he were wielding a mace or an axe, but his partner was a fucking katana.
The two of them were wiped out in a matter of minutes. Mitsuru rubbed her temples as the two of them limped back into the observation room, arguing with each other.
“- I told you, I’m not some hammer that you can smash things with!” the katana boy hissed.
The blond boy shrugged. “Maybe you have some hidden hammer mode or somethin’ - you never know unless you -”
Mitsuru cleared her throat, and the two boys fell silent, straightening their postures. “Sakamoto, Kitagawa, can you tell me what you did wrong?”
Under his breath, Goro sardonically answered, “Everything.”
Mitsuru shot him an icy glare. “I believe I was asking them, not you.”
The katana - what was his name again? Yusuke? - sighed and rolled his neck. “That was rude, but … he wasn’t wrong.”
The blond boy opened his mouth to try to argue, but instead sighed and slumped forward. “They’ve got a point …”
Mitsuru jotted something down on her clipboard as she curtly said, “You two - remedial lessons this Saturday. And Akechi -” She turned her attention to him. “Would you and Kurusu like to go next?”
Goro grunted in affirmation and started heading towards the arena entrance. When Akira tried to follow him, he simply knocked him back with a well-placed palm to the chest.
“Hey - Akechi -”
“Stay out of my way, house cat,” he snarled.
As the door closed, he heard him respond, “... problem weapon.”
Problem weapon? That prick was about to see just how much of a “problem weapon” he was …
“Wuh - Akira, why’d you let him go?!” Ryuji asked once the door closed.
Mitsuru pursed her lips. “For once, I agree with Sakamoto. Kurusu, you understand that the assignment is -”
“- for weapons and meisters to clear the two robot waves,” Akira finished. “Kirijo-sensei, you never specified that we have to use our currently assigned partners. I’m perfectly capable of still passing this assignment.”
While a few people (namely, Futaba and Ryuji) chuckled at his loophole, Mitsuru was not amused. “Kurusu, completing this assignment with your assigned partner is strongly implied." She clicked her pen furiously as she read over her grading and comment sheet. Sighing, she hissed, “Fine, I’ll let it slide this once. But next time, you’re working with Akechi or you’re failing.”
Akira folded his arms and nodded, turning his attention back to the arena. Ryuji slid in next to him and whispered, “No, seriously, why’d you let him go?”
Akira supposed he had a few reasons. For one, he was only able to keep up with his changing wavelength so easily because they were stationary; he wasn’t quite as adept at matching wavelengths while moving and being attacked. And if Goro tried … whatever that was that finally made him let go, they would both definitely be failing the assignment and taking remedial lessons. But if Akira had to guess what his top reason was for letting Goro go …
“... he keeps going on about how strong he is on his own,” he finally replied. “I want to see what he can do.”
Goro marched over to the starting area, taking deep breaths. This was his chance to prove to Akira that he didn’t need him - or anyone else, for that matter.
Mitsuru’s voice echoed over the loudspeaker. “Are you ready? Three … two … one.”
As the first wave of robots emerged, Goro partially transformed - his left forearm turned into a serrated blade, while his right turned into a laser saber. These robots were moving fairly slowly - there was more than enough time to charge his wide-area laser saber attack. After a few seconds of concentrating, he swung his right arm in a wide arc, sending out a laser crescent that neatly cleaved every single robot in the first wave.
No time to waste - he knew where the second wave of robots would enter the arena and took off. If he timed this right, he would get there as soon as the wave deployed -
Damn - he was a little late - the doors closed, but the robots were still grouped together. With the right attack … He leapt up, aiming to land right in the middle of the robot cluster. Just before he landed, he drove his laser saber into the ground, creating a shockwave that took out most of the robots. With his serrated blade, he slashed through the remaining robots like he was cutting down stalks of wheat. He expected there to be at least some resistance, but his blade sliced through the robots like they were merely scraps of paper.
(He briefly debated talking to Mitsuru about the material used for the robots, but decided not to - of course he cut through them with ease, he was that powerful.)
Goro paused to catch his breath and scanned the arena; no one had yet to make it past the second wave, so he had no idea where the third wave would be -
The loudspeaker echoed again. “That’s the end of the assignment. Akechi, come back.”
Only two waves? Goro sighed and rotated his shoulders. Was this supposed to be a challenging assignment?
… if he was the first to complete both waves, what did that say for the rest of these pairs?
This had to be proof that he didn’t need a meister, right?
Goro was greeted with loud cheers (as he should) upon entering the observation room.
The blond boy from before bounced up to him and slapped him on the back. “Duuude!” he exclaimed. “I can’t believe that - you were all like -” He began slicing the air, making exaggerated battle cries in what seemed to be a positive impression of his fighting style. “Dude, it was awesome, and Kirijo-sensei says you have the best clear time so far!” he continued.
An exasperated Mitsuru clarified, “He has the only clear time so far, Sakamoto.”
The blond boy didn’t seem to hear their teacher and added, “And you did that alone?”
Goro couldn’t stop the grin from spreading across his face. He searched the room to look for Akira, who was still giving him that cold cat smile, like he knew something that Goro didn’t.
(that irritated him to no end)
To drive the point home, Goro confirmed, “Yeah, I did that alone, without a meister.”
“But … why?” a soft voice asked.
The room fell silent as everyone turned to the girl that had spoken - the shy one (Goro believed her weapon form was a rapier) with red hair tied in a ponytail and glasses. Suddenly conscious of the fact that she was the center of attention, she tried to back away into the crowd, but was stopped by a shorter girl with orange hair (her meister?).
“C’mon, Sumi, didn’t you have something to say?” her meister whispered.
Still wringing her hands nervously, the rapier said, “You - you’re really powerful, that’s obvious, but … Akira’s a Wild Card, why would you not fight with him?”
Goro furrowed his brow. Wild Card? Now that was a new phrase. “What, pray tell, is a Wild Card?”
The rapier perked up. “Oh, he didn’t tell you? Well -”
“Hang on, Sumi,” Akira interrupted. His cat smile turned into a full Cheshire grin as he turned to make eye contact with Goro. “Let me show him.”
The new excitement in the room was palpable. Normally, Goro hated being locked out of the loop, but a little part of him was curious to see what would happen.
Now carrying himself with the air of an experienced commander, Akira called, “Yusuke. Ann. Let’s go.” The katana from earlier and another girl with large blonde pigtails eagerly followed him out the doors while the others remaining scrambled towards the observation window for a good viewing spot. Goro was content to stay in the back of the crowd, but having a little more information about what was about to happen couldn’t hurt. Now, where was that girl …?
Ah, there she was, right in front. He sidled through the crowd, expecting to have to butt heads with someone, but surprisingly, they parted ways for him, like they all wordlessly agreed that this was something he had to see. As he stepped next to her, he cleared his throat and asked, “So, this Wild Card thing …”
“Oh, yes!” she exclaimed. “So, I guess Akira didn’t really tell you about it?”
“... he told me that he had the ability to sync his wavelength with almost any other weapon’s.”
The girl beamed, as if she was letting him in on a major secret. “Well, that’s not all he can do. He can also match wavelengths to multiple weapons and sync them simultaneously in battle!”
For once, Goro was speechless. The house cat can what?
The girl bounced on the balls of her feet in excitement. “He can only manage two at a time right now, but still …!”
Goro turned his full attention to the arena, now more than a little invested in what his assigned meister could do (and maybe just a little irritated that he had kept this information from him). He, Yusuke, and Ann were already at the starting area, huddled together in what seemed like a strategy meeting. Mitsuru called for them to be ready, and they separated. Akira nodded at the both of them and held out his hands. They switched to their weapon forms, with Yusuke as a katana in his right hand, and Ann as a whip in his left.
As a weapon, he couldn’t sense souls like meisters could, but even he could tell that their wavelengths and synchronization were stable - if he quieted his thoughts and concentrated hard enough, he could even feel the power emanating from them from up here.
“Three … two … one.”
Without missing a beat, Akira sprinted forward to meet the robot wave. Goro immediately began theorizing about his strategy: a katana and a whip - well, he had a little bit of reach with the whip, but he’d have to get up close and personal for the katana, and from what he saw earlier, Yusuke’s blade wasn’t sharp enough to cut through the robots.
Goro was proven wrong when Akira cut down an approaching robot without slowing down. He glanced sideways at the katana’s assigned meister, who was watching the battle with his jaw agape. Why those two were paired up, Goro would never know. Yusuke was clearly stronger in Akira’s hands.
(something in his chest seized as he thought that)
He coughed in his elbow and shook it off. Whatever that was, it wasn’t important right now. Akira was within a few meters of the main cluster of robots. Was he going to slice through them? Use the whip to clear the way?
Instead, he lifted the now-glowing katana over his head and drove it into the ground. A wave of ice spread from that point, immobilizing all the robots.
“For real?!” the blond boy shouted. “Dude - when was he going to tell me he had ice powers?!”
“Well, he was going to …” a girl with brown, fluffy hair explained meekly. “He hadn’t quite mastered it at the time, so he was going to train with Akira a little more.”
The blond boy slumped forward and pouted. “I can help him, too …”
That uncomfortable feeling struck in Goro’s chest again. He didn’t get it - he wasn’t being attacked, he didn’t have a cold, no one was asking him about meisters - what was wrong with him today?
Back in the arena, Akira beheaded the nearest robot and deftly caught the severed head with the whip. In one fluid motion, he swung the robot’s head around like an improvised morning star, destroying the rest of the frozen robots.
The rest of the room cheered, and a small part of Goro wanted to join in, but he squashed it down. It wasn’t over yet - sure, the second wave of robots was about as easy as the first, but … Akira was …
(he wasn’t that good, he couldn’t be that good - to drastically improve a weapon’s abilities so much - that had to be because this blond buffoon was doing something wrong)
Goro’s chest tightened as the two weapons temporarily assumed their human forms to high-five Akira.
(and why did that keep happening to him?! it seemed like it was only happening when he thought about Kurusu using other weapons -)
… oh no.
(no no no he can’t be jealous he shouldn’t be jealous of these two-bit weapons, just because they were in perfect sync with him - he was not jealous, not at all)
The second wave of robots deployed, but Akira stayed right where he was, idly twirling the katana as if he were debating how best to dispatch these new foes. His head tilted towards the whip, as if Ann was whispering an idea. He nodded and once again plunged the katana blade into the ground, coating the area in ice.
Reusing moves? He supposed that Kurusu really was some one-trick pony …
But instead of simply freezing the robots in place, he kept channeling the ice power, eventually freezing the entire arena and lowering the temperature so much that everyone started shivering in the observation room.
The fight should have been over the moment he immobilized the robots. What was he doing?
It was then that Goro noticed that the whip was glowing a fiery red, and had been for most of the time Akira had spent channeling the ice.
Wait, a fiery red? No, was he about to …?
With a flourish, Akira spun the whip (now on fire) above him in a wide circle. He kept spinning it, faster and faster, and the flames only grew larger.
Fire … and the air was already cold from the ice - if cold air is heated rapidly, then -
Goro clamped his hands over his ears just in time - the resulting shockwave thundered through the arena, obliterating any remaining robots (and presumably causing some hearing damage for everyone else).
For a while, everyone fell silent; the only noises came from the shifting and melting ice and debris from the robots and the arena clattering to the ground. Everyone else was looking around at the sheer amount of damage that was done to the arena, but Goro couldn’t take his eyes off of Akira, standing proud and triumphant with a pair of glowing weapons.
(it should be him in his arms, not them)
Goro shut his eyes tightly and pinched the bridge of his nose. These intrusive thoughts were becoming a real pain in the ass …
Mitsuru finally broke the stunned silence over the loudspeaker. “Kurusu, come back.”
Once again, the students’ re-entry was met with cheers. The weapons’ assigned meisters - the buffoon and some unremarkable girl with black hair in a ponytail - ran towards them and showered them with hugs, praise, and congratulations.
(Briefly, Goro thought about Akira greeting him the same way and promptly pushed the image to the back of his mind.)
Sighing, Goro turned around to retreat to the back of the room - and there he was, blocking his path as if he’d sensed his intrusive daydream and wanted to fulfill it (warm smile and all).
“Well?” Akira asked.
For once, Goro had no idea what to say (and the newfound emotions swimming around his head certainly weren’t helping matters). In what he hoped was a neutral voice, he said, “... well done.”
Akira arched one of his eyebrows.
He wanted more? Ugh. “... if a little over the top,” he added through clenched teeth.
Akira frowned, the coldness creeping back into his eyes. He grabbed his upper arm, leading him towards the edge of the room.
(how dare he)
Goro distorted his wavelength, trying to get him to let go, but Akira held firm. In a moment, he let him go anyway, and hissed, “Akechi, what is wrong with you?”
The emotions that he tried to force down now boiled over, eroding at his composure. “I meant what I said,” he growled, using much more venom than he intended. “Did you really have to blow up the arena? Were you that desperate to show off?”
Akira was taken aback, but still refused to back down. “Okay, I was referring to you trying to distort your wavelength to force me to let go of you in the - what, three seconds it took to walk over here, but now that you’ve said that, are you seriously trying to call me a show-off after what you pulled?”
“It’s not my fault that all of the pairs here are incompetent. Any weapon worth their salt could do what I did!”
“I was trying to show you that any weapon can be better with a meister -”
“That might have worked if that buffoon wasn’t such a miserable meister in the first place! A child would make a better match for that katana than him!”
“Why are you so resistant to the idea of a meister?! You haven’t let me wield you, let alone touch you, since we first met!”
The knot twisted and Goro prepared to say something that an ordinary person might regret, but was interrupted by Mitsuru’s heel stomping next to them.
It was then that they realized that the rest of the room was dead silent, and probably had been for a while.
Mitsuru fixed them both with one of her famous icy glares. “You two. With me. Now.”
The two of them were quiet during the rather long walk from the arena to the main campus. Goro thought (more than once) that Mitsuru was personally escorting them to the headmaster, but she passed every single staircase and instead held open a classroom door, motioning for them to get in. They filed in obediently, and she shut the door, leaning against it.
“Neither of you are leaving this room until I see a stable synchronization,” she ordered. “Additionally, if you two manage to achieve Soul Resonance - or something close enough - I’ll change your grades from failing to passing.”
“‘Failing?!’” they both repeated.
“Yes, you two failed today’s assignment! The point of the exercise was to practice with your assigned partner!” Akira moved to interrupt, but Mitsuru snapped, “Kurusu, if you try to use that loophole again -”
Goro buried his face in his hands and debated, for the millionth time today, whether or not continuing at DWMA was worth it. He could go back to training on his own, getting stronger and stronger, until he eventually found him and gave him exactly what he deserved, and then …
… and then …?
… after that, the future was just … a blank space. A void. Nothingness.
… was that what he wanted?
The storm that was his mental state calmed enough for one last intrusive thought:
If he left … would he ever miss the warmth of Akira’s soul?
He lifted his face and there he was again. His face was unreadable, as usual, but he thought he detected some softness in his eyes.
Still silent, Akira offered his hand, palm up.
Goro stared at it like the gesture offended him. “What are you doing?” he spat. “Just grab my arm - you’ll sync with whatever wavelength I choose and we can get this over with.”
Akira shook his head. “We’re partners, Akechi. You have a say in this too.”
“And what if I still say that I don’t want to work with a meister?”
“Akechi.” (Goro really wished he would stop saying his name like that.) “If that’s what you really want, I’ll take the failing grade and you can walk out that door and leave Death City and you’ll never have to see me again. But if there’s any part of you that wants to stay, I’d like you to take my hand and work with me.”
Goro curled his hands into fists to try to hide the fact that they were trembling, but that only made it worse. Hoping his voice wouldn’t waver, he insisted, “There is no part of me that wants to stay here with you.”
Akira lowered his hand and stepped forward into his personal space, whispering into his ear, “You know, when you match wavelengths with someone, you can sometimes feel what they’re feeling.”
(so, that feeling of finally coming home …?)
Akira continued, leaning in so that his lips barely brushed against his ear. “We both know what you just said was a lie.”
He stepped back and offered his hand again. This time, Goro intended on taking it, but his hand froze mere inches above Akira’s, his fingers visibly trembling.
In that same, soft voice, he said, “... Goro. Please.”
… maybe he should stop denying that little part of himself. But if he was going to do this, he might as well do it right.
Before he could think about what he was doing, he slipped off his gloves, letting them fall to the floor, and clasped Akira’s hand with both of his.
He smiled. “Your hands … they’re warm.”
This sensation of finally coming home after such a long time away … was that him feeling that? Or Akira? Feeling like he belonged - like no matter what he did, someone would always be here to welcome him back - like he’d never be alone again ...
… was synchronizing with someone else always like this?
“Goro, can you hear me?”
Hm? Was that …? “Kurusu?”
“Yeah. Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. Actually … I’ve never felt better.”
“That’s good. Just keep your wavelength steady.”
To his surprise, Akira was having a hard time keeping his breathing even. Then again, who wouldn’t feel some sort of rush from the sheer amount of power he felt from the weapon in his hands? Igor was right - Goro was already powerful on his own, but he had so much untapped potential that the very thought was making Akira dizzy.
As soon as he made sure that there wouldn’t be any sudden wavelength distortions, he studied the laser saber. Goro only ever seemed to use this form for wide-area attacks - what was the minimum range? He stepped back with his left foot, bending his knees slightly into a fencing stance. He slashed the air experimentally -
And a chair, about two feet in front of him, fell apart, sliced cleanly into two pieces.
Akira grimaced and looked to Mitsuru, saying, “I’m sorry - I didn’t mean to -”
Mitsuru shrugged. “We have a lot of spare desks and chairs. As long as you don’t break any of the walls, I don’t think Igor will mind.”
Akira nodded and turned the laser saber over in his hand. Okay, so even at close range, this was still usable. As much as he wanted to try to directly cut a table in half with this saber, he decided to keep collateral damage to a minimum.
“Hey, are you still okay?” he asked.
“Yes, I am. Are … are you?”
For some reason, Akira pictured Goro blushing as he said that (and then prayed that Goro couldn’t sense any of his follow-up thoughts on that image). “Of course. Do you mind switching to your other form for a bit?”
“Not a problem.”
In a flash of red and white light, the laser saber was replaced with the serrated blade. Akira spun it in his hands, trying to get a feel for it - and was surprised to see the blade keep spinning. Actually, he wasn’t even doing anything: the blade rotated around his open hand of its own accord.
“Ah!”
The blade stopped, snapping back into his hand.
“I’m sorry - I didn’t mean to -”
“No, no, you’re fine.” Akira took a moment to try to catch his breath, which was proving difficult since his heart was racing so fast. A weapon, equipped by a meister, moving without any external force applied ... he had heard about the sensation, of course - most of the older meister-weapon partners could achieve it with no problem - but this was the first time he had experienced it. Theoretically, as long as he could maintain their synchronization ...
“Hey … can you do that again?”
“... gladly.”
With a flick of his wrist, Akira spun the blade around his hand, and Goro kept the momentum going. He meant to see just how long he could keep this up, but the longer he and Goro remained synchronized, the happier he became.
(... happier? Was this something he should be feeling?)
Before he realized what he was doing, he was twirling the blade around with the expertise of a performer, even tossing it between his hands. He must have looked like a fool, doing what felt like some choreographed dance with his weapon, but he was so high on the euphoria from their shared synchronization that he didn’t care. Goro didn’t seem to mind, either; the blade added little flourishes of its own, and their wavelength was holding steady, resonating even -
And in a flash of light, he had an ornate pistol in his hand instead of the serrated blade.
Slowly, Akira cradled the new weapon and studied it. It was plated with gold and silver, with a small pair of decorative angel wings near the grip.
“Goro? You didn’t tell me you had a gun form.”
“... I didn’t know.”
A sudden clapping startled both of them, and Goro abruptly returned to his human form, flushed and certainly looking like he had been dancing for the past few minutes. Mitsuru approached them with a smile on her face, still applauding. “Good work, you two,” she commended. “I’ve never seen such a beautiful Soul Resonance.”
Akira blinked. “Wait, a Soul Resonance? But … I wasn’t trying to …”
Goro turned towards him. “You weren’t?”
Mitsuru hummed thoughtfully. “Perhaps you two were able to resonate naturally. From what I could see of your souls, that gun form is indeed your shared Soul Resonance technique.” She scribbled something on her clipboard before turning to leave the room. “Your grades have been adjusted. I look forward to seeing that form in the next lesson.” The door opened and closed, leaving the two of them alone.
Goro was the first to speak. “Are you okay, Kurusu?”
Akira couldn’t help but chuckle. “Of course I am, are you kidding? That was - I mean …”
He couldn’t exactly find the words to describe his experience, but in retrospect, he didn’t need to - through their synchronization, Goro surely felt what he had felt.
With a smile and a faint blush across his cheeks, Goro affirmed his unspoken words by squeezing his hand.
It was then that Akira realized that they were still holding hands.
… not that he minded.