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1.
Goro’s seen what happens to the kids that are bullied. Violet bruises peeking under sleeves, hidden under shirts and long pants with a dirt coating and little scratches oozing. It’s one reason to try and keep a low profile, avoid being seen so the riddled sneers and little kicks don’t reach him.
But life is never kind, and Goro, whenever cornered on his way home, away from eyes who were meant to care but never did, would find himself on the ground for a painless beating, each blow only numb. He imagines what it must be like to feel pain; he’s read that cuts can sting and bruises will throb and aches will linger from minutes to hours, that stubbed toes and bumps against his funny bone hurt a lot. He’s heard his teachers whispering about him, sometimes, on the rare occasion when they watch but don’t interfere.
They call him a freak.
To them, maybe he is, since it’s so far removed from their common timers, their color-blindness or tattoos. He’s the child who can never be injured. Goro likes it, though, because it means when he’s supposed to look injured he can tell his mom that he was just playing in the dirt, digging holes and building towers. It’s necessary so that he can be his mom’s hero, for if he isn’t hurt then he can always be strong. But in secret, his soulmate will be his hero. Goro takes much, but he hopes one day, he can give back to them.
(But he takes and takes and takes, and never gives back. It has to be this way if he wants to survive.)
2.
It takes 17 years for him to feel pain.
It happens in March, something tight around each wrist, digging into his flesh. Whatever causes it is invisible to him but it burns and lingers for a week. The red marks are easy to hide under the combination of his gloves and long sleeves, but the injury is a painful mystery.
It’s meaningless to wonder why it’s taken so long for his soulmate to rely on him for once in their life; he’s not stupid enough to believe his soulmate is capable at going through life without obtaining a single injury until now. It’s even more pointless to wonder what the importance of a soulmate really is, beyond allowing him an alibi, for how can he engage in combat yet come out unscathed each time? It makes his life easy, and if his soulmate isn’t resisting, then what’s the harm?
3.
Akira Kurusu is a teenager with many scars.
Goro’s seen a couple of them: a long cut under his eye and a wide burn scar usually hidden by his turtleneck, but on evenings and weekends the scar is visible, from the bottom of his neck to his shoulder. Their trip to the bathhouse reveals more, some big, some small, each one a different story Akira doesn’t tell. He’s been in and out of the hospital a lot, he told Goro once. Sometimes his parents would have him wait in the nurse’s office after school, or go to the local clinic instead of going home, just in case. He knew the nurses better than his parents, was the implication.
It’s not until early November he finds out why.
They’re tending to injuries in one of the safe rooms of the elder Niijima’s palace, though Crow only assists in handing out medical supplies upon request since the only hint of injury he’s received is the long but thin hole on the back of his attire, hidden by the cape, from a lucky sword swipe from an Ose when no one had been looking.
“Joker, is that everything?” Queen stands in front of Joker, arms folded. All he had to deal with was another small wound on his cheek, easily hidden behind a small bandage.
“I don’t think it is,” Oracle says. “Necronomicon’s telling me he has untended injuries…”
Queen sighs and Joker shrugs. “Take off your coat.”
“Wow, asking me to strip?” Joker laughs but he listens anyway.
As he sets his coat in his lap Crow can see what was meant to be the light gray undershirt darkened with the unseen. “His back,” Crow is quick to inform them, reaching for the supply bag on the center of the table.
“Another one?” Oracle sighs. “This is the third time this week…”
“Joker does tend to get injured a lot,” Crow muses as he pulls out another roll of gauze and alcohol wipes. He sets them next to Queen, who is helping Joker carefully peel his shirt over his head so they can see the damage.
“I wish it was that simple,” Queen responds. She gives the shirt another tug and it slips off of Joker’s head, and Goro’s inhale is shaky as he sees the wound. It’s a long, thin gash, from shoulder blade to hip, reminiscent of the new rip in his clothing. It’s a coincidence, he thinks, as he looks through the bag to see if there’s anything else of use.
“It’s no big–”
“Joker,” Queen’s voice is firm. “This is insane. You cannot keep taking your soulmate’s injuries like this.”
Crow’s head snaps up from his idling by the bag, sees Joker staring into his lap while Queen sits next to him, tending to the injury. “I don’t really know how to stop,” Joker whispers, but it’s loud enough Crow can hear. “And I don’t know if I want to.”
Crow tries to drown the conversation out, forcing himself to assist the first person who needs additional help or supplies, throwing himself into this temporary act of camaraderie while ignoring the possible implications.
It doesn’t matter, he reminds himself as they exit the palace. It doesn’t matter because either way Akira Kurusu is a selfless fool, and that will be what gets him killed by Goro’s hand (or Goro’s own recklessness, he thinks in a dream).
4.
“And Akechi…” Goro turns around to face Sae Niijima once more, met with the concerned look in her eye. “Are you alright?”
“I’m fine,” Goro smiles even if he knows he looks like hell, feels the throbbing and the aching all across his body. “This…” he thinks of a way to explain it, something he’s never had to do before. He’s taken to wearing a wristband on his wrist, to hide his soulmate timer he lied about to Niijima when she had asked sometime after their first meeting. She’d understand the unorthodox soulmate links, being granted one herself, but now is not the time to admit he lied to her when he has business to take care of.
“I just had a small accident on my way over. I didn’t have much time to take care of my injuries while also being on time for my job.” He considers flashing his charming smile, but decides against it; he knows it will look wonky with his injuries, more fake alongside his stiff shoulders and conscious posturing, cracks in the facade worsening each step closer to his destination, slandering him as both fraud and sinner.
“I see…” she nods. Without another word she turns the corner, and Goro continues down dreary hallways, footsteps the only sound as he approaches the interrogation room Akira’s execution is meant to be set.
Shooting the guard is easy, but as he monologues he watches as an uninjured Kurusu’s eyes flicker to the variety of injuries marring his face, and anger boils within him as he thinks about Kurusu, defending him, showing him kindness from his birth to his death, how Goro pays him with deceit and displays of hatred and when he shoots he has to hope that the bullet doesn’t enter his own head instead. His hand shakes as he slips the gun into Kurusu’s hand and he tells himself it’s because this is the first time he’s killed a person outside of the metaverse (even though the guard, real and forgotten and dead, is lying right there and–)
Goro is calm when he exits the building.
(Later, he strikes the concrete walls of the metaverse to try and feel something else. He feels nothing.)
5.
Not even three days later, when he’s sitting in class, he feels for the first time what it’s like to have a stubbed toe. It’s almost reassuring, what the pain means.
It’s also a problem.
6.
Skull brings his club down on him, pounding against the side of his arm, and it is immediately followed by fire at his feet. He remains unfazed, continuing despite the flames and he brings the blade forth to force Skull to retreat. In the corner of his eye he sees Joker clutch his arm and request healing, and Mona complies with his request even though he looks confused.
“Everyone, retreat,” Joker’s command echoes just as Goro ducks under one of Queen’s fists. “Stand back and remain on support for now.”
Queen jumps out just as Joker rushes forward to him. Joker swings his knife at him and Goro catches it with his blade. “Are you sure this is a good idea?” She shouts as she takes a defensive stance by Oracle’s side.
“I’m sure,” Joker calls back. “Akechi,” he says to Goro, quieter. “I don’t–”
“Shut up! Just die already!”
There’s nothing but fury as his serrated blade grazes Joker’s shoulder, but it’s him who feels the sting underneath unscatched cloth. Joker hops and ducks around Goro's blade before Joker thrusts the weapon out and it cuts Goro’s side, but no wound appears and the grimace on Joker’s face says all that it needs to.
Sword and knife clash against each other again and again. Goro searches for an opening, and when Joker’s left is unguarded he throws a punch against his cheek, forcing his head to the side, but it's Goro who feels the pain on his face. The two continue their twisted dance, irony in every landed kick or scratch, calls for Loki’s fire that only cradle Joker and burns Goro’s flesh, Loki’s darkness hiding Joker from his view and Goro is the one who feels shadow's sting.
He’ll kill Joker, the bastard who isn’t even trying anymore, fighting with only his knife and dodging what blows he can, and then he’ll kill the rest of them one by one, watch the terror and hopelessness fill them after their precious leader is dead, worsening when another comrade dies after.
He’ll kill him, he will, he’ll do it, he’ll do it, he’ll do it, he’ll–
7.
The gunshot goes off.
Goro feels nothing.
He hears something heavy knock against the partition.
“Idiot!” He growls, a voice of understanding amidst the thieves echoing confusion.
He shoots the cognitive version of himself again and it dissipates into dust, yet there are still many more shadows to contend with. He counts how many opponents he has, most of them familiar; he knows how exactly to take each one down, the only difficulty will be accomplishing this task with his self-imposed injuries.
It’ll be a new experience, fighting while bleeding out, while bruised and pained, truly fitting for a potential end. He moves his arm again and readjusts his aim. Yet, regardless of the challenge before him he would prefer not to die here.
***
When he finds his way back to the safe room sometime later all of the thieves are still in the palace, lounging around within the small room. His eyes are quick to land on Akira, resting on the couch with his coat and tunic removed, set on his lap like a blanket. Instead of clothing all he wears are tightly wound bandages around his abdomen. His eyes are open and they meet Goro’s as he stomps towards him.
“What the fuck were you thinking?”
“I wasn’t.” Joker moves to sit up but Goro pushes his shoulder to keep him down. After a few seconds he starts to pull his hand away, but Joker is quick to grab it and pull it back towards him. “But I don’t regret it.”
“Have you been listening to anything I’ve said? I hate you, you–”
“You're an awful liar,” Joker interrupts him. “If those were your true feelings, you wouldn’t have protected me.”
Goro glances away. “That changes nothing about the fact that you keep making this mistake.”
“And it’s not.”
Goro sighs, sets his free hand against his forehead. This is going nowhere. “And why are you all still here?” He turns to look at the closest duo, Panther and Noir, who sit across the room.
“Well…” Panther glances around the room before looking back at him. “We were kinda curious?”
“Curious,” Goro repeats. “You mean to tell me, you stayed here out of mere curiosity? Do you not care at all that Joker is dealing with a gunshot wound? Just because our injuries aren’t as grave when we leave does not mean you should be treating a gunshot wound with such disregard.”
“You’re proving my point,” Joker mumbles from behind him.
“Shut the fuck up.”
“We also wanted to make sure you were okay,” Noir adds. “Some of us tried to find a way to reach you, but we couldn’t find anything...”
“Sure you did.” Goro rolls his eyes under his mask.
“Akechi.” Queen stares at him from the table. “Sit down.”
“Excuse me?”
He feels Joker squeeze his hand and he looks back to him. “She’s just trying to help– I know you took my injuries during our fight, and I couldn’t help you for a while after I got shot.”
“Wait, what?” Skull expresses his confusion. “That doesn’t make sense. Wouldn’t that mean you were only hurting yourself for most of that?”
“Oh, huh,” Panther hums. “I get it now. That’s… weirdly sweet, but I think you two are kinda being idiots.”
“The desire to protect each other, even when at odds…” Fox ponders. “What a captivating dynamic.”
“You’re overthinking it,” Goro grumbles over Noir’s giggling. Even as he says that he doesn’t look at them.
Joker tugs at his arm. “Sit with me.”
“Absolutely no–” Joker pulls him down again, with far more force and Goro, not expecting it, follows. His bottom knocks into the front half of the couch cushion, his back bumping against Joker’s leg. Joker bends his legs to create more space for Goro to scoot into, tailcoat and vest awkwardly slipping from their neat positioning, and Goro doesn’t move to make himself more comfortable until after Joker settles his legs on his lap to keep him trapped there.
“See, wasn’t that hard.” Joker grins. He brings Goro’s hand to rest over his chest. “I’m glad we’re both here.”
Goro watches Joker for a minute, waiting to watch him laugh and tell him it’s a joke. But his grin fades into a smile, and Goro feels his cheeks warm just a little at the thought of really being wanted. “So am I...” He admits in a whisper meant only for the two of them, glancing at the floor as he gives Joker’s hand a timid squeeze.