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(Consequences of) One Face Too Many
Five days.
Five days had passed since Goro Akechi last heard from Joker. He was supposed to be helping him and his friends change Sae-san’s heart and had been taking part in the group chat that he’d been invited to - though he was sure they maintained another without him - but even some of the other Phantom Thieves were starting to express concern for their leader.
Goro wasn’t sure if this was meant to be some kind of ploy or some such to try to catch him off-guard, but Niijima said he hadn’t even been himself lately. She had recounted a story from a few days ago when she’d crossed paths with him at Shujin and she’d greeted him, but he’d just numbly walked by without acknowledging her.
Their fearless leader hadn’t been replying to anyone’s messages for nearly a week and for seemingly no reason. He had just been generally down and despondent before that. It had started a few weeks ago, but had only gotten this bad over the last week. The others seemed to be genuinely worried about him but, while the cat stayed with him, Kurusu never spoke and would seem to just monotonously go through the motions of the day. There were times where Morgana had reported he’d just stare out the window or even at the wall and accomplish nothing.
Goro wasn’t sure if he had any right to investigate this particular matter, but the detective in him refused to leave the mystery unsolved.
Or, at least, that was the excuse he kept feeding to himself.
He knew he was attracted to the other boy and that it went well beyond any sort of morbid curiosity. He knew that he wanted to be more than what he already was to him deep down. Even so, he knew he’d have to kill him before the month was over. Either way, it wouldn’t hurt to visit and learn more about him so he could further predict which actions he was going to take, right?
What utter bullshit.
He knew it was a lie before he’d even finished the thought. He was going to see him simply because… Well, technically, there was nothing simple about it. He wanted to go because he didn’t want him to be sad and distant - especially from him - nor did he want him to suffer alone like he had. He was walking through the streets of Yongen after stepping off the train in order to ensure that Akira Kurusu would be able to finish this fight with Sae-san’s shadow so he could capture him and assassinate him. He was walking up to Leblanc so that he could confirm that his rival wasn’t as broken as he was and make sure that he wouldn’t break before he wanted him to.
He was taking the handle of the quaint coffee shop’s door and pushing it open because he missed playing pool or going to the Jazz Jin to discuss some complex idea with the underclassman. He was flashing an all-too-fake smile at the owner and Kurusu’s guardian so he could enjoy a cup of his roast (even if he preferred how Akira made it). He was setting his briefcase down and taking a seat because he wanted to look like he just came to enjoy a cup and that he wasn’t desperate to see that challenging smirk on his rival’s face when he thought he was going to win. He was letting himself get lost in his thoughts and completely miss what Boss said because he wanted to have a reason to hold the boy he’d come to cherish in his arms and never let him go so he wouldn’t have to kill him.
He blinked and snapped out of his thoughts, looking up at Boss to see him staring back curiously. He managed an awkward chuckle and scratched his cheek cutely - a move he’d done on TV to play coy - before saying, “My apologies, Boss, I was lost in thought over a case I’m working currently. What did you say?”
The man just blinked in surprise and pointed a thumb towards the stairs up to that disgusting, mildewy attic that somehow managed to feel so much warmer than his modern and well-kept apartment in Kichijoji. “You’re not here to see him? All the others have come and gone to check on him when they could.”
Goro shrugged slightly and tried to play it cool. He supposed Boss probably knew nothing of their work as Phantom Thieves and, given the number of conversations that he and Kurusu had shared or the times they’d played a game of chess here at Leblanc while the other was working, of course he’d assume they were actually friends. “He hadn’t texted me back yet and I didn’t want to assume I’d be welcome just marching up the stairs. I was hoping that he might want to talk to me, though.”
The older man blinked again. “Why? You head up there with the others all the time with barely a wave in my direction.”
He flinched, hopefully unnoticeably. He did do that, but only when they had organized a Phantom Thieves meeting. He prayed the man would buy his excuse and not call him out for being the coward that he definitely was at the moment. “As I said, he hasn’t texted me back and I wasn’t sure if I would be welcome if he hadn’t seen my message.” He paused for just a moment and glanced sideways towards the stairs. “But if you don’t think he’ll mind, then I would like to check on him. Everyone has been quite worried about him as of late.”
As if it was an answer all it’s own, Sojiro just waved a hand towards the stairs, shooing him off to go and check on his ‘friend.’ Surely that’s all he thought they were, given how much they seemed to spend time together and all, despite attending different schools, and the fact that he was now welcome to join the others upstairs.
Akira Kurursu was a lot of things to Goro, but a friend wasn’t one of them.
He was his rival, acquaintance, partner in crime (literally), comrade, confidant, target of assassination, enemy (even if Kurusu didn’t know yet), secret crush, and the one he dreamed about every night. But, no, he didn’t think they were friends. Friends were completely honest with each other, after all, and, though he didn’t know what secrets he kept, he knew there were things that Kurusu hadn’t told him.
It would be the understatement of the century if Goro said there were only ‘a few’ things that he kept private. He kept so much hidden that he honestly wasn’t sure if Kurusu even trusted him.
Either way, he smiled at Boss and picked up his briefcase before heading up the stairs in the back of the café. He quickly surveyed the dusty-smelling space before his eyes landed on the boy, seated on his bed in his pajamas - despite it being not even an hour after he’d gotten home from school - and leaning on the wall as he stared out the window. The cat didn’t seem to be there at all.
Goro watched him for a moment, but he never flinched or even acknowledged that he was there. He couldn’t help his initial reaction. He was in furiated at the dark-haired boy in front of him. This was his rival? The man who’d defeated him in single combat in Mementos, even though he had a full two years’ worth of Metaverse experience before him? The man who’d managed to surpass him so quickly in billiards? Who put up such good fights in chess when he’d never played the game before they’d met? This was what he’d been reduced to?
The man who never failed to make his heart race when he’d make eye contact?
With an indignant huff, he walked over to the sofa in the room and quickly deposited his attaché case, uniform blazer, and gloves (a new pair that wasn’t fully broken in yet. The leather was still far too stiff, but it was unavoidable when he’d thrown one of his old ones at the miserable fool curled up before him.) there, then pulled his tie down to be a little more comfortable.
Still Akira didn’t acknowledge him, his dark gaze that had once pierced him so deeply that he’d felt naked when fully clothed - on live TV, no less - was now just empty and cold. Dull.
It was pathetic.
He marched over to him, lips in a thin line, determined to make the boy talk and explain his recent mood as he set a hand on his shoulder and jerked him to face him. At one time, his rival would have glared at him or given him bullshit for treating him in such a way. This time, however, his gaze barely moved, staring at the floor where he’d been turned.
Slowly, he seemed to register that someone was there and his gaze slid over, stopping and blinking at Goro’s narrow hip. Part of Goro hoped he was checking him out, another part wasn’t going to let his hopes get up and had gathered that his gaze just happened to fall there. Kurusu looked as though he was trying to register who was there, or maybe he was trying to process that someone was there at all.
He finally dragged his eyes upwards, falling on Goro’s face and the contempt thereon. It was nearly a solid minute of them just staring at each other and him secretly wishing that he could simultaneously beat the shit out of whatever had done this to him while also being the reason to make him smile again. Akira jumped slightly as the realization set in, his hands immediately going behind his back as if to hide something.
In his current state, however, Goro’s reflexes and overall body strength were far superior and he quickly caught his wrist, taking what was in his hand and pulling it free. He hoped it might be a clue towards his current behaviour. What he didn’t expect to find was that the object clutched so tightly in his hands as if it were a lifeline was… his own glove.
The same one that he’d thrown at him when he’d challenged him to a rematch not even two weeks ago. When he’d been so full of spite over losing and anger to hide how impressed and turned on he was that he’d blatantly muttered that he hated him. Why was this fool clinging so desperately to something thrown at him in a fit of rage?
Before Goro could ask what the fuck was wrong with him, he watched as Akira defeatedly let him take it and just fell back against the window once more. His voice was soft and barely there when he muttered, “That’s right… That’s yours. You can take it back if you want to…”
The detective’s first instinct was to retort with some form of sarcasm that if he did, he lost all right to a rematch. He stopped himself before he could, hanging onto one part of Kurusu’s words that seemed out of place. “What do you mean, ‘that’s right’? Did you forget somehow?”
He didn’t give a proper answer, but instead said, “But why did it seem so important if it wasn’t mine…?”
The brunet decided to set the fact that Kurusu seemed to treasure his glove on the backburner for now and instead shifted to a less confrontational stance in front of him. Whatever was going on, something was definitely happening to the man before him. “Kurusu, can you hear me?” he asked, carefully taking one of his hands and placing his glove back into it as if to tell him it was his to keep.
“Kuru…?” he started, vaguely echoing his words as he seemed to struggle to look at him again and his hand reflexively closed around the leather in his hand. “Who is… Kurusu?”
Goro blinked. Okay, something was definitely wrong with him. How did he manage to forget his own name? Sure, he’d see this happen once or twice in a Palace when one of them was struck by a shadow and seemed to forget everything, but they were very much not in a Palace where magic didn’t exist. “You’re Kurusu. Akira Kurusu,” he said, trying to keep his voice level as if speaking with a frightened child.
“Kurusu…” he repeated again, as if trying to match the name to himself. “Are you sure…? I thought I was… was…” He shook his head, slowly at first, but then getting more frenzied as his hands moved to his hair and gripped at his scalp. “Who… Who am I? Yukimura? Ayane…? Hideki, maybe… No…”
Before Goro could fully prepare himself, Kurusu moved as quickly as he’d seen him all day, discarding his treasured glove on the bed and throwing his arms around the other’s waist. “Who… am I?” he asked, voice barely audible from where his face was pressed to his abdomen.
He took a deep breath to calm himself. Someone he considered to be both his greatest strength and his greatest weakness was now clinging to him and he had to fight his instinct to keep people at an arm’s length and not push him away again. Instead, he gently wrapped his arms around his shoulders and drew him closer. He knew he would either regret this moment or treasure it forever.
He could think about that later, however. Right now, he had to figure out just what the hell was happening to Kurusu and find a way to fix it. “You are Akira Kurusu. You’re seventeen years old, you live here in Tokyo, and attend high school at Shujin Academy.”
His arms pulled more tightly around his middle and he had to bite his tongue when his face nuzzled against his stomach. He must’ve felt him tense up, though. Kurusu didn’t seem to mind much, if at all, and instead nuzzled closer before saying, “Thank you, Koji. You’ve always been there for me when I needed you.”
Goro’s mind was somewhere between happy that he could say something like that to him and extremely concerned that he was thinking that he was someone else now. “Kurusu… I’m not Koji. I’m Akechi, remember? We met at the TV station when your class came on a field trip when I was being interviewed.” He decided not to mention how entranced he was by his eyes across the set, staring so fiercely that he’d actually felt like he was burning holes into his skin, and how he knew he couldn’t let him go without at least exchanging contact information. He’d wanted so desperately to ask him on a date that day.
Thinking back on it, why hadn’t he? He didn’t have evidence that he was the Phantom Thief he’d seen in Madarame’s Palace and, even then, they weren’t popular enough at the time to warrant concern in his plot for revenge.
Regardless, that wasn’t important at the moment.
He needed to figure out why Kurusu was suddenly forgetting who he was. He’d never heard of anything remotely close to this happening in the real world, at least not without a traumatic event to alter his mental state so suddenly. But if it was connected to the cognitive world, then why was he the only one experiencing it? There were eight other Persona users infiltrating Palaces with him and Goro had been doing it for far longer without repercussions.
“Am I… Ose? No… Queen Mab? Mithras? Unicorn?” he muttered, confusion clear in his voice.
But those were some of his Personas’ names, weren’t they? He could clearly recall the visage of each of them when he’d called upon them during their last Metaverse excursion. Suddenly, Goro felt his stomach drop when he recalled a part of Dr. Isshiki’s notes, so graciously shared with him by Shido so he could learn more about his powers.
“The cognitive self is different from the physical self in that it represents the individual’s will without any filters. The physical has been reformed by society time and time again, but the cognitive is the purest state of a person. It is what a person is meant to be, before being nurtured and taught to obey society and follow its standards. It is what Jungian psychology has defined as the human soul - the personality, the persona.
“If cognitive psience can find a way to extract this inner self, then it may be possible to fully implant a different personality onto a person. While there would surely be some complaints on the ethics of the matter, perhaps something such as this could be done to extend the life of great minds by overwriting the personalities of the dregs of society.”
Goro hadn’t yet gotten the full story on just how Kurusu was able to control so many Personas, but he had gathered that he made deals of some variety with shadows and they would become his mask. Was it possible that he was picking up excess Personas of people who hadn’t awoken to theirs? Or they had already come and gone from the physical world? If so, was using them causing their personalities to arise in Kurusu and this identity confusion was a side effect?
Honestly speaking, he had no idea what was running through his head at that moment and he was starting to confuse himself with all the hypotheses that were impossible to test. He wished Dr. Isshiki was alive to explain the matter to him, though his interactions with her shadow told him that she was about as easy to understand as her daughter.
He took a slow breath and hoped he could make this work.
Licking his lips, he carefully pulled Kurusu’s arms from his waist and shifted to sit next to him on his bed - Oh, the number of fantasies his accursed teenage body had conjured of the two of them on this bed - only for his arms to instantly wrap around his shoulders. He swallowed and took advantage of the position to lean over his ear and murmur, “Arséne. You’re truly Arséne, aren’t you?”
He seemed to have one Persona at the forefront of all times, much like his own situation with Robin Hood and Loki, though his two were both a part of him and not random shadows. He hoped that if he could get Kurusu to think of his own, natural cognitive self, that maybe that might draw the demon to the front and cause Kurusu’s personality to become his own again. He was grasping at straws right then, but it was all that he could think of to do.
“Akechi…” he heard from the man in his arms and almost his lap as he drew closer, face buried against his shoulder as he started to tremble. He choked when he tried to speak again, giving Goro the sinking feeling that he was crying. He could probably forget all his plans to kill him now. Seeing him like this, he knew it was far too late and he’d sooner kill himself at this point.
“Akechi, who am I? Why can’t I remember?” he asks, sniffling on his tears as he pressed as close as possible.
Goro did what he hopped was best in this situation and gingerly wrapped his arms around him to pull him closer. “You’re Arséne. You’re Akira Kurusu and Joker, leader of the Phantom Thieves. You’re my rival and one hell of thief-” he cut himself off, just barely stopping the words ‘who managed to steal my stone-cold heart’ from slipping out. Now wasn’t the time for shit like confessing. Even if the object of his affections was clinging so closely and had been holding onto his glove like it would save his life, he didn’t want to consider that he felt the same. Not yet, anyway.
“Arséne... “ he muttered, pulling closer as he shook his head against the crook of Goro’s neck, allowing the older boy to feel his tears on his skin.
And then Goro froze where he was.
Kurusu had just kissed his neck. He could still feel his hot breath ghosting his skin, the spot tingling in some sensation that he decided to put off until later. When he wasn’t so warm in his arms and his scent not so strong in his nose. When he could get his head on straight and think logically again.
“I’ve never been so fucking terrified, Goro,” came that rich, deep voice, still shaking with each word. On one hand, he seemed to be remembering who he was. That was a huge relief in Goro’s mind since he’d now have to switch to Plan Never in a Million Years - a.k.a., fight Sae-san’s shadow earlier and change her heart before his own plan to betray them was ready - and would need Joker’s aid to do so. On the other hand, hearing his given name on his tongue felt almost like a dream. Three people in his life had called him by his given name, one of whom was his mother.
He realized he needed to reply and gave a mental ‘fuck it’ before closing his arms more tightly around him to hold him properly. “I’ve got you,” he murmured, his body moving without his permission to place a gentle kiss to his hair. Fuck , this was most definitely not how he imagined sharing his feelings for the other. If he ever did. All the same, it legitimately felt like his heart was breaking when he realized just how fragile Kurusu was right then.
“I… I think I’m me again,” he said, voice cracking as he snuggled closer, giving no indication that he wanted to move away at all. “Is it… dangerous for me to keep using my Personas?”
Goro shook his head slightly as he bowed his head over the other protectively. “I don’t know,” he answered honestly. “But we will need to secure a route and send the calling card as soon as possible. Regardless, that topic can wait until everyone is present. Unanimous decisions and all that.”
Kurusu nodded against him as his breathing gradually leveled out once again. “Right… I…” he paused slightly, then slowly finished, “Thank you for being here.”
“But why me?” Goro asked before he could stop himself. The answer to that should be obvious to him now (especially how he’d gripped his glove like it was the only thing that mattered to him in the world), but the cynic in him wanted to hear it no matter how compromised the situation was. “The others have all been here and have tried to talk to you at school.”
The man in his arms fell silent and his hold on him slackened slightly. His voice was less broken but more dejected as he muttered, “You mean to tell me that you haven’t figured it out yet? Just what kind of detective are you?”
A fake one that lies and cheats his way to victory , he thought to himself, but gave a small shrug. “Maybe I want to hear you say it. I never was a fan of riding solely on theories and deductions. I like to have proof and a witness testimony is one of the most favoured in a courtroom.”
He gave a small snort from under his chin, already sounding much more like himself. Maybe it really was something to do with Arséne. “So I need a jury’s approval to kiss you?”
He felt a bitter laugh tumble from his lips before he shook his head, muttering, “No, just three things.”
He finally looked up at him, eyebrows furrowed in confusion over his request and eyes still a little puffy from crying. “What’s that?”
He bit his lip as unnoticeably as he could - a terrible habit he’d never been able to shed - and said, “First, tell me who you are. Second, tell me who I am.” He sure as hell better not do that Koji crap again.
“Fair enough,” he replied, gaze falling as if he were still struggling with his identity a bit. “I’m Akira Kurusu, leader of the Phantom Thieves and a kid on probation for being in the wrong fucking place at the wrong fucking time. You’re Goro Akechi, the biggest nerd in a showstopping diva’s disguise that I’ve ever met.”
He supposed he couldn’t really fault him for that one.
“And what’s number three?” he asked, a playful smirk on his lips as if he was certain he was going to ace this like he did every single one of his exams.
“Thirdly…” Goro swallowed the lump in his throat, but knew he wanted to get this in the open before anything more intimate than curling on his lap occured. “Thirdly, you have to not freak out over the fact that I fully intended to kill you until today.” He averted his gaze, having no idea how he was going to react. Would he run screaming? Would he kill him first? For the first time since he’d become a detective, he had no idea what to expect.
Then he did the strangest thing.
Akira fucking Kurusu laughed.
He grinned and laughed as he shifted to cup Goro’s face in his hands and draw him closer until their foreheads were pressed together. “You think I didn’t know that? We were definitely prepared for that situation. But, for what it’s worth, I’m glad you changed your mind. I’d much rather make out with you than fight you.”
Gods, why was this asshole so infuriating? At the same time, he couldn’t bring himself to be too upset and, when he really thought about it, he realized he should be grateful that the guy he liked wasn’t upset, regardless of how that alone should have raised several red flags. No one ever said Goro Akechi was a good judge of character. “Shut up,” he muttered, knowing he was definitely blushing slightly.
Akira’s grin widened as he brushed their noses together. “Fucking make me.”
He knew full well that he was walking right into his trap, but he couldn’t bring himself to care as he shifted to cradle his head in his hands to draw him closer to gently touch their lips together. He didn’t care how cheesy or stupid or downright worrisome the outlying circumstances were. He just knew that he was kissing Akira Kurusu and it felt incredible.