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|| 1 ||
The first time Akira ever heard of Akechi Goro, local teenage detective heartthrob, was on a rainy Sunday morning, a few weeks before he would properly meet him in person.
It was early enough for Akira to eat at a leisurely pace downstairs in Leblanc. Sojiro, for all his talk of throwing Akira out at the first sign of trouble, trusted him enough to let him use the kitchen freely during off-hours.
Akira turned on the TV and flipped through the few channels available, eventually settling on a segment of Good Morning Japan.
He wasn’t a fan of talk shows. On any other day, he would’ve turned the TV off and used his phone as a source of entertainment. But the moment he flipped to the channel had been when the camera zoomed in on Akechi’s entirely too pretty face.
Each lock of hair seemed to be biologically engineered to perfectly frame his face, never falling out of place even as he laughed politely and shook his head to the hosts’ unoriginal jokes. His doe eyes and pink lips sparkled in the studio light. Akira couldn't tell if he was wearing any makeup, but if he was, he’d probably still look unfairly attractive without it.
“There’s been some buzz ever since you’ve revealed your hobbies the last time you came on here,” one of the hosts said.
“Oh yes, if you’re looking for a way to train both your mind and your body, I highly recommend bouldering.”
“We sent out a camera crew to accompany you during a session. Shall we play a clip now?”
“Of course. I hope it can be informational to anyone interested in picking it up as a hobby as well.” His voice was saccharine sweet and unfitting for someone who enjoyed bouldering, of all things.
The screen transitioned to a video taken in an indoor gym. A person with brown hair tied into a ponytail scaled a wall with protruding artificial rocks. With his arms bare in his loose-fitting athletic wear, the camera was able to capture the muscles that were hidden under his blazer during the talk show segment.
That had to be a stunt double.
The figure jumped down from the top of the wall and turned around. The face was sweaty, a little red, but unmistakably Akechi’s.
His grin was also wide and toothy and cocky, so much more unrestrained than the dainty laugh from before, disappearing quickly as a crew member lifted a microphone towards his mouth.
Akira wanted to see it more.
Akechi dusted his hands with chalk as he explained the basics of bouldering to the star-struck interviewer holding the microphone. His muscles seemed to ripple even with the small motions, an action the interviewer noticed as well.
Her wandering eyes snapped back to Akechi’s face once he finished his explanation, and she blushed as he smiled kindly at her. Akira figured she must be an intern, considering how young she looked and how easily distracted she had been.
Not that he could blame her. He could hardly keep himself from looking up and down Akechi’s body; he was just lucky he was separated by a TV screen.
Akechi proceeded to grip one rock with both hands and then stretch his leg over another. “It’s akin to a puzzle. The best path isn’t always the most straightforward one, and many times you have to extend your leg or arm to the limit to get to the next part.”
How the interviewer’s eyes didn’t bulge out of her head as Akechi starfished onto the wall, Akira would never know.
“What are you watching?” Morgana said.
Akira sucked in a quick breath. He’d forgotten Morgana had been napping in the chair next to his.
Mimicking the placid smile Akechi had, Akira scratched Morgana behind the ears. “Nothing important,” he said, pressed the power button on the remote, and took his plate to the sink in the back.
|| 2 ||
“Wait, what are you—” Akechi said.
“Trust me.” Akira pulled him up from his chair and led him to the cafe’s bathroom. Thankfully, Akechi followed him without resistance and only regarded him with exasperation once they were in front of the sinks and mirrors.
Akira moved his hand to Akechi’s upper arm to position him better and promptly froze.
“What is it?”
Without thinking, Akira squeezed his bicep and earned a squawk in response. He snorted at the sound, and suppressed the laughter that was threatening to burst out of him at the indignant look Akechi gave him.
Though shaking silently until tears leaked out of his eyes probably wasn’t much better.
“You actually do work out as a hobby,” Akira said while wiping them away with one hand.
Akechi coughed into the crook of his elbow, cheeks still pink when he turned back to Akira. “Excuse me?”
“If you’re looking for a way to train both your mind and your body,” Akira recited from memory, “I highly recommend bouldering.”
“Well, of course. It’d be rather uncouth to lie on broadcasted television,” Akechi said with a pout. Then his eyes widened a fraction, becoming somehow even bigger and shinier than usual. “You watched that interview?”
Akira avoided the question by ruffling Akechi’s hair. Sadly, Akechi didn’t make another cute sound.
The muscles in Akechi’s arms contracted, giving Akira a first-hand look at just how fit Akechi was. Not that he minded, he was very much in the opposite mindset of minding actually, but he would rather not risk him pulling a muscle from holding so much tension in his body.
“Hey,” he murmured, running his hand up and down as if to smooth the taut muscle, “it’ll only be until those people leave. Promise.”
“I know that,” Akechi snapped. Then he sighed, placed his hand over Akira’s, and lowered his head. “The last person to touch my hair was my mother.”
Akira’s hand stilled. “I—”
“It’s fine. It’s… nice actually. I had forgotten how soothing it can be.”
Akira breathed out slowly and resumed running his hand through Akechi’s hair. He shifted locks of hair around gently, careful to avoid making any sudden movements. The air around them was still; he felt it would be a mistake to disturb it.
With his eyes closed, Akechi looked relaxed and younger. Akira leaned in, telling himself it was for the sake of styling Akechi’s hair exactly the way it needed to be to disguise him completely.
It would be so easy to close the last couple of inches and brush his lips against his lips or his cheeks or his nose.
Akira focused on ruffling his hair more.
Eventually he stepped back and took off his glasses. “Done,” he said quietly. He handed them over once Akechi opened his eyes.
Akechi checked his reflection and let out a short bark of laughter. “I certainly do look different. Well then,” he said and slipped on the glasses, “shall we?”
|| 3 ||
They were on Shido’s ship. They were on Shido’s ship, they were tired, and they were running low on health and stamina. After defeating the Cleaner, they had agreed to run back to the closest safe room so they could teleport to the entrance of the palace and return to the real world.
They probably should’ve accounted for Akechi showing up at the most inopportune moment, especially with things going as smoothly as they were.
They were on Shido’s ship, they were tired, they were low on health and stamina, and they were fighting Akechi, who’d gone berserk and was laughing deliriously about killing them all.
So of course Akira decided it was the best time to devote his attention to the defined arms, legs, chest, and behind exposed by a suit that left little to the imagination. If it wasn’t for the constant poker face he had perfected over the years, he was sure Shido’s ship would be floating on an ocean of his own drool instead of whatever metaphorical cognitive substance he’d cooked up in his conniving, overly greased bald head.
Akira may be a little bitter.
He might be a lot bitter actually, he realized, as he dodged a spell Akechi cast at him and his friends. Akechi could’ve been working alongside them, not against them, if Shido hadn’t been possibly the worst person and father in Japan and caused his son to go blind with rage.
Though he managed to avoid Akechi’s barrage of spells, Ryuji, Haru, and Morgana weren’t so lucky. He and Yusuke nodded to each other and dashed simultaneously towards Akechi, relying on Ann and Makoto to use their healing spells to revive the others.
Yusuke reached him first, and a loud clang rang out as their blades met. Neither were relenting, swords trembling in their hands from the exertion. Akira forced himself into a sprint; he needed to use the distraction to catch Akechi off guard.
Akechi’s psychosis inducing spell gave him more strength than they estimated though, and with a sudden surge of strength, he knocked Yusuke’s sword out of his hand and kicked him hard enough to send him flying.
Akira had a brief second to panic before Akechi barreled into him so his back met the ground.
Akira wheezed, his adrenaline kicking in so he could push himself up despite Akechi’s heavy frame on top of him. He only managed to move what felt like a few inches and then he was shoved roughly down again. Stars exploded in his vision and he should’ve been scared, but—
But Akechi was straddling him and clasping his wrists over his head with one hand, grin stretched wide and delirious, and Akira wasn’t paralyzed by fear alone.
Fear was contributing to the other thoughts warring in his brain, if he was being honest.
And since he was being honest, Akira could also admit to himself that he’d had dreams in this exact position with a lot less clothing.
Same amount of weapons though.
“Any last words?” Akechi said, sword pressed against Akira’s throat.
Akira swallowed, felt his Adam's apple graze the serrated edge of the blade, and decided if this was going to be how he died, he might as well voice his true feelings.
He grinned back at Akechi, relishing in the flash of confusion on his face, and said, “I like the way your ass looks in this outfit more.”
For a moment Akechi looked at him like he was the one struck psychotic instead. Then his face twisted back into dazzling, unbridled malice and he bore down harder, gripping Akira’s wrists painfully tight.
“What in the hell did you—”
His words cut off into a furious scream as a whip cracked at the wrist holding his sword. He jumped back and off Akira to narrowly avoid the bat swung his way.
Ryuji extended his hand and Akira took it gratefully. He stumbled as he got up and then cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted at Akechi.
“I meant what I said!”
“Shut the hell up!”
|| 4 ||
“How are we supposed to get there?” Ryuji said.
The last unexplored passageway, presumably leading to the next room, was a nondescript crawl space high above them and out of reach. Akira activated his Third Eye in hopes of finding a hidden ledge or a switch for the locked door, but a thorough search of the surrounding area offered him nothing.
Already feeling the beginnings of a headache, Akira deactivated the ability and rubbed his forehead.
“Joker, try your grappling hook?” Makoto said.
“On it,” Akira said and aimed his palm upwards.
The hook skittered along the surface of the crawl space, sliding down the wall once it fell out. He retracted the cord, lifted his arm, and adjusted his aim.
“This is painful to watch,” Akechi said in a tone similar to the one he used when observing the weather.
Certain that at most Ryuji would throw Akechi a dirty look, Akira ignored the provocation and shot the grappling hook again. He decidedly did not grumble when the hook fell down as quickly as it had last time.
“Eight of you in your merry little band and you’re all stumped by a single door,” Akechi droned on.
“I don’t see you coming up with any ideas,” Ryuji said.
Akechi crossed his arms. “I don’t have to.”
“Huh? We’ve got the same goal here!”
The rest of their group watched them argue in exasperation. Shaking his head, Akira retracted the grappling hook and shoved his hands into his pockets.
He muttered a quick thanks when Makoto, Sumire, and Futaba offered to walk around the room and search for clues. If nothing else worked, Akira figured they could ask Futaba to try hacking into the system again.
If that didn’t work, then they could try knocking the door down.
Akira honestly didn’t want to resort to using force, but between ten persona users, they could probably cause enough damage for something to happen.
Ann sidled up to him and hooked her arm around his. He leaned into the touch automatically. He wasn’t sure if Ann could tell he was stressed, but he appreciated the casual affection nonetheless.
“Shouldn’t we stop them?” Ann said.
Though Akira wanted to let them squabble it out, he knew she was right. It could get ugly if the fight turned physical.
“Skull, Crow, enough,” he said, projecting his voice to grab their attention, “we need to work together. Arguing won’t get us anywhere.”
Akechi turned, looking ready to start yelling at Akira next, but Akira would never know what he was going to say next because his jaw snapped shut. He felt Ann wince beside him at the loud click.
“Crow, are you okay?” she said.
“Why wouldn’t I be?” he said through gritted teeth.
Frankly, he looked downright murderous—the same red gleam when he killed shadows flashed in his eyes.
Akira thought better of pointing it out. Instead he chose to prop his chin on top of Ann’s head as he stared back up at the crawl space.
She giggled and squeezed in closer. Akira smiled and idly twirled the end of one of her pigtails around his finger. Sometimes he wondered if Akechi would benefit from receiving a hug.
A sound similar to Morgana’s yowl made him jump. Akira had only heard him make that sound once before when a kid with sticky fingers had grabbed his tail. He was about to detach himself from Ann, but Ryuji approached them with his arms spread wide.
“Alright, alright, let me in on this. I need to recharge too,” he said and wrapped his arms around both of them.
“Wait, hold on,” Akira said, laughing in spite of himself. “I need to check on Mona.” He patted Ryuji’s back rapidly.
“Mona? I see him.” Ryuji lifted his head. “Yeah, he’s fine. He’s with Noir and Fox.”
“But that noise.”
“What noise?”
“Didn’t you hear it? Just a second ago.”
“Oh, that one,” Ryuji snickered and rested his head on Akira’s shoulder. “Don’t worry about it.”
Ann elbowed him lightly. “Petty,” she said.
“He deserves it.”
“What are you talking about? Who—” Akira started, then disentangled himself from Ann and Ryuji in alarm. “Crow!”
Akechi jumped from his sprint and slammed into the wall claws first. Time stood still as a deafening silence followed. Akira scanned the room, and simultaneously was reassured and worried that everyone else appeared just as bewildered as he felt.
Akira didn’t really trust himself to say the right thing.
“Crow-senpai?” Sumire said.
For a minute, a long dragged-out minute, Akechi didn’t respond. He didn’t react at all. Then he dragged one foot up and then the other. Debris crumbled to the ground as he withdrew one clawed hand, stabbed it higher into the wall, withdrew the other clawed hand, and stabbed it higher as well.
He was several feet above the ground by the time Ryuji spoke again. “What the eff,” he whispered.
“Wow, he wasn’t kidding about the whole bouldering thing,” Ann said.
Akira knew that.
Akira also knew Akechi’s butt looked great in his black outfit.
He didn’t know how amazing it looked put on full display while shimmying up a surface.
As if hearing his thoughts, Akechi whipped his head back and stared in Akira’s direction once he reached the edge of the crawl space. A shiver crawled up Akira’s spine.
“What are you waiting for? Get a move on!” Ryuji shouted.
Akechi gave him a thumbs down before squeezing through the opening.
Eventually, the door swung open with Akechi on the other side. He breathed heavily, pulled his helmet off, and raked his hair back. Beads of sweat slid from his temple and disappeared down his neck. Again, he was staring in Akira’s direction.
“Splendid. We can now proceed,” Yusuke said.
“Thanks, Crow,” Makoto said. A chorus of appreciation followed as each one of the Phantom Thieves filed through the door.
“You looked just like a spider,” Futaba cackled, her hair swaying as she skipped after Ann.
Akira nodded at Akechi. “Nice job,” he said and made to pass through the doorway as well.
“Joker, a word,” Akechi said.
Akira felt every eye on them. He waved a hand at the rest of their teammates. “Go ahead. We’ll catch up with you.”
He stumbled in place as Ryuji wrapped an arm around his shoulders and pulled him in towards himself. Ryuji ducked his head, motioning for Akira to do the same.
“Don’t take too long, alright? I don’t wanna have to check on you guys and end up interrupting something I don’t wanna see,” he tried to mutter.
Akira appreciated the effort, but, Ryuji being Ryuji, the words carried through the room.
He wished he had a helmet similar to Akechi’s at that moment. A quick glance up, and he could tell Akechi had wished he hadn’t taken his off.
“Ugh, I can’t believe you sometimes.” Ann grabbed Ryuji by the collar and dragged him off. “Don’t worry, we’ll find the next safe room and wait. No rush!”
The last thing Akira saw before the door closed was Futaba sticking her tongue out in their direction and then he and Akechi were alone.
It was quiet. If it wasn’t for Akechi’s quiet panting, the room would be completely silent.
Speaking of panting, Akira was pretty sure he was going to go crazy watching Akechi’s chest rise and fall with each breath he took.
He coughed to alleviate the tension. “You heard Panther, we can take our time. I’m all yours,” he said.
Akechi finally caught his breath and hummed. “Yes, you certainly are.”
Okay, wow, Akira did not have the mental capacity to parse that sentence. Mainly because he was being backed into a wall by a looming, pretty boy who could or could not know the effect his threatening demeanor had on him.
He kept his eyes on Akechi’s and resisted flinching at the loud clatter of his helmet falling to the floor.
“Do you need something, Crow?” he said, maintaining a steady tone.
“I could ask you the same question.”
“You’re the one who asked me to stay behind.”
“Yes, and you,” Akechi trailed a finger along Akira’s jaw, “are the one who’s been watching me all day.”
Akira was going to die. Akira was going to die a slow painful death from lack of oxygen and extreme sexual frustration.
“Care to explain yourself, Joker?” Akechi crooned, finger now tipping Akira’s chin forward.
He was so close, the space between their noses almost non-existent. If he moved the tiniest amount, they’d be kissing.
So he did.
Akechi jumped back like he’d been burned. “What the hell was that?” he squeaked. It’d be funny if Akira hadn’t been confused out of his mind.
“Weren’t you—? Didn’t you want to—?” he said.
Akechi opened and closed his mouth several times, but no sound came out, as if he was a fish out of water gulping for air. His expression turned stricken as he clutched his forehead. “No! I mean, yes. No, that’s not the point!”
Lifting his hands in a placating manner, Akira took a step away from the wall. He could salvage this.
Maybe.
“Okay, do you want to talk about it?”
“Talk?” Akechi spat as if the word offended him.
Akira shrugged. It was worth a shot. “What do you want then?”
“What I want…” Akechi shook his head. “No, it doesn’t matter. I was foolish to think—!”
He snatched his helmet and put it back on. “Never mind. Let’s go. The sooner we eradicate this palace the better.” And with that, he slammed open the door and stomped off.
Feeling three conversations behind, Akira followed him and let the matter drop.
|| 5 ||
Lavenza, Igor, or some yet unknown otherworldly being out there was apparently smiling down on him today because Akechi had not only agreed to join him for a game of darts, but he had also accompanied him to a night out at Jazz Jin.
Persistence had been key. After their last venture into Maruki’s palace, Akira had texted, double texted, and triple texted Akechi, who’d spent the last few days brooding wherever brooders brooded.
Though he’d received a long string of texts comprised almost entirely of every possible expletive imaginable before Akechi responded with a time to meet, it was a small price to pay for his company.
While excited, Akira had expected Akechi to be standoffish for the most part considering the fiasco that was their first kiss.
To his surprise, Akechi instead had slipped easily into their usual banter and had flirted with him the entire time.
Akira was sure the drink he’d ordered was non-alcoholic. He was pretty sure the drink Akechi had ordered was also non-alcoholic, which was important to note since he had swiped it in the middle of one of their debates and sipped it through the provided straw as Akechi watched him with hungry eyes.
He was walking on clouds by the time they left Jazz Jin. His cheeks stung in the frigid air, sore and overworked from laughing all night. The mood was perfect and Akechi’s hand was hanging loosely by his side, ready to be held or to be kissed.
His own hand made an aborted movement when he slipped and fell.
He stared up at the clouds. Clouds that were in the sky, not beneath his feet, because he had been walking on cold, hard cement. Reality, or un-reality as it was, was cruel.
A strangled laugh reached his ears. He turned his head to the side to see Akechi laughing into the very gloved hand Akira had just thought of grabbing.
He'd be embarrassed if his body wasn't aching so badly.
“Some perfect world,” Akechi sneered. “Hack of a therapist couldn't even get rid of icy sidewalks.”
“Ha ha,” Akira said. He propped himself up on his elbows, wincing at the sharp pain in his left ankle.
“Well, hurry up. I can’t imagine it’s that enjoyable to lay on the ground in sub-zero weather.”
Akira tried to stand, only for his ankle to buckle under his weight. “Um,” he said eloquently, “I’m good here actually.”
Akechi frowned. “Don’t be ridiculous. Get up.” He grabbed roughly at Akira’s arm and pulled, pausing when he whimpered. “What is it?”
“I… I think,” Akira licked his lips, catching Akechi’s eyes darting down for a second and back up, “I twisted my ankle.”
Akechi blinked at him. Then he dropped his arm while rolling his eyes. “Is that it? You should have just said so.”
“Right. Give me a few minutes, I’ll handle—”
The rest of his sentence was lost in a yelp as Akechi scooped him up into a bridal carry. Akechi held him easily, as if he were a bag of groceries on a day when the pantry simply needed an extra bottle of mirin.
“Hmm, you’re not very heavy. There’s an emergency clinic nearby I can take you to.” Akechi started to walk towards the main road.
Aware of the blush setting his face on fire, Akira flailed his arms as much as he could without slipping out of Akechi’s grip. “Wait, you don’t have to go that far. It’s not that bad,” he said. He covered his face with his hands, fingers parted to allow a peephole for each eye.
The attempt to disguise his embarrassment evidently didn’t work since Akechi’s expression morphed from a scowl to smug delight. Akira usually liked the look on him, cropping up when he would get a bit more mean-spirited and a bit more competitive than his detective prince character had allowed.
Akira might be a little bit in love.
Akechi adjusted his arms to lock Akira’s body closer to his chest. His very muscular chest that somehow Akira had convinced himself was comparable to his own.
Due to the many layers of his clothes, Akira tended to forget the bulk he had seen over and over again. It wasn’t like he hadn’t been checking Akechi out any chance he got during their trips to the metaverse.
“Oh, no,” Akechi said, snapping Akira out of his spiraling thoughts, “It’s best we have a medical professional ensure it’s not serious. Anyways, I believe helping others is quite rewarding in itself, so it’s no trouble at all. ”
He was using his detective prince voice. Akira knew he’d lost.
Not one to waste an opportunity though, Akira buried his face into Akechi’s chest. He rubbed his cheek against it the same way he'd seen Morgana snuggle in Haru’s arms.
In response, because he liked to suck the fun out of everything, Akechi bounced Akira into the air in an apparent attempt to kill him through cardiac arrest.
“Behave, or I'll drop you,” he said, voice still sickly sweet.
Resigned to his fate, Akira leaned back to swing one arm over Akechi’s shoulder and bring it around to grasp the other one. “Take me away, then,” he sighed.
|| +1 ||
To avoid the public eye, Akechi no longer went to gyms. After years under Shido’s thumb, dying, coming back to life, defeating Maruki with the expectation of dying again, staying alive, and years of therapy, he’d desired a more normal life.
He still enjoyed bouldering, and he took the train to Mount Mitake at least once a week to practice. Sometimes Akira accompanied him if he didn’t have work, other times he stayed home to cook enough food for Akechi’s post-workout appetite.
It was good for him, Akira thought, something from his past life that he could look back on fondly and continue to enjoy in the present.
Though Akira didn’t participate in the activity himself, he appreciated it for his own reasons.
Among those reasons were the wrist strength and unrelenting grip he’d developed.
Akira gasped loudly against Akechi’s neck and squirmed in his hold. It was a game they played—the thrill of being a Phantom Thief, of being chased, hadn’t left him. He relished in the feeling of getting captured, slipping away, and getting captured again.
“I have work tomorrow,” he said, voice hitching as Akechi skimmed up his sides with one hand.
“That's a lie, and not a very good one,” Akechi said and tightened his grip on Akira’s wrists. “Seeing that you've asked me to leave bruises on you mere minutes before your shift just last week.”
“What if I just don't feel up to it today?”
Akechi blinked at him and moved his hand away. “Oh, my apologies. Should I stop?”
Akira kissed him hard and slid off the bed. He twirled with dramatic flair once he straightened up, unable to resist snorting at Akechi's confusion.
“I lied,” he said, managing to take two steps out of the bedroom before Akechi tackled him.
They fell to the floor and tumbled around until Akira pinned Akechi facedown. He pressed forward, his groin fit snugly against the perfect curves of Akechi’s ass. “Got you, detective.”
“You know I can easily flip you over,” Akechi said, breath hitching and rendering his own threat moot.
Akira nuzzled into his hair and nipped his ear. He grinded down, drank in the cute sounds that escaped Akechi’s lips.
“Prove it,” he said.
The world rotated as soon as the words left his mouth, and his and Akechi’s shirts were ripped off by the time he got his bearings. A shadow fell over his eyes; he looked up and grinned. He’d never get tired of seeing Akechi above him.
The light in the room created a halo around his head, accentuating each silky, honey brown lock of hair. Akira reached up, tangled his fingers in the strands and laughed when Akechi swatted his hand away. “Don’t you dare mess up my hair now,” he said and leaned down.
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Akira said, unable to stop himself from smiling into the kiss.
Reality was better than a dream anyway.