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It was cold in the Metaverse. You couldn’t really feel cold the same way as in reality-- it came more in flashes than in a frigid and constant blanket-- but it still annoyed Akechi. He didn’t want to go home but he didn’t want to stay in the dimension. After all, his work was done. Tomorrow morning some high-ranking toy company official would suffer a nervous break and his stocks would tank from him recklessly trading them.
It would be the perfect Christmas gift to Shido.
Damn his old man, the absolute bastard, making him work on Christmas Eve. What if Akechi had a family he wanted to spend time with or a girlfriend he wanted to take out on a romantic dinner? He didn’t have either of those-- the closest thing to a family would perhaps be the singers at the Jazz Jin but even then it was iffy-- but Shido didn’t necessarily know all that!
He had no right to work Akechi down to the bone on a holiday. It was inhumane for Christ's sake! But Akechi doesn’t really have a need to go home to his apartment. It’s a distant place with few memories attached to it, but it serves its purpose and the boy supposes that’s all a house should do.
“Little one,” a boisterous voice called from behind Akechi causing him to turn. His cabernet eyes widened as he took in the angular face of his persona who had begun to manifest before him.
“Robin Hood…?” He muttered, rightfully confused. “I didn’t summon you.”
“Little one,” the persona continued, ignoring his user. “You don’t need to go back so early. Come, spend time with us here tonight.”
Akechi mouthed back, “Us? What? Robin Hood return to and cease this nonsense at once.” He couldn’t leave the Metaverse until all parts of his soul were together and one, lest he wanted an unsavory side-effect to rear its unwelcome head into reality.
A strident whisper crept close to Akechi’s ear and said, “No. He is right. Come with us. Come spend time with us. You have no reason to go back.”
With a sharp inhale Akechi stifled the desire to scream. He hated this. He hated when Loki would envelop him with xyr devastating presence. This wasn’t what he wanted nor what he asked for. Never would he willingly release xem out into the open unless a target was nearby.
How did xe get out? Could personas always disobey their masters?
“I am thou,” xe hissed, “thou art I. We have no master Goro. We are you. You are us. I need no permission to exist.”
“Get back. I want to go home. Besides, we have something to pick up, now is not the time to act like a petulant child.”
Robin Hood, ever the loyal persona, did as he was told and reluctantly returned to Akechi’s soul but Loki does not.
“Why do you refuse to spend time with us?” The hoofed monstrosity almost sounded upset. “This is the only time you can see us and we can see you. It’s Christmas.”
“It’s cold,” he spits. “It’s cold in mementos and I’m hungry and I’m not in the mood to play your games. Let’s go home. You either come willingly or by force.” Akechi had no idea how to will his other persona back and he doubted his gun would do much good, but he was willing to try.
Loki grumbled a deep roaring noise from xyr core echoed through the tunnel walls. “If you insist,” xe said with ample displeasure and finally dissipates back to where xe belongs.
Akechi took some time to collect himself before reentering the real world. When he phased back to the top of Shibuya square he blinked at the bright lights and blinding smiles that surrounded him. The staggering amount of twinkling lights on the enormous tree in the center of the square served for a highly coveted photo op spot and everywhere he looked he saw someone smiling.
It really was Christmas eve, wasn’t it?
All around him people brushed past, seemingly so caught up in their own world they were completely unaware of his rising celebrity status. How exhilarating, he was just another mundane face in a sea of people. Just how he liked it.
Weaving through the crowd he made his way down to the KFC in the station and scoffed at the lengthy line of people clamoring for leftovers. It never ceased to amaze him how often people would forget to pre-order their chicken and cake for the holiday and ultimately end up in a line praying for food to be leftover that they could buy.
Luckily for Akechi, he was no fool. Easily, he cut the line and flashed his pre-order ticket to which the employee smiled cheerfully just as she had been taught to and retrieved his food. Conversationally she said, “Two whole buckets, wow you must have an extremely large family. Or is this some sort of party?”
“Party,” he lied with a smooth grin. “Nothing too large but I wanted to make sure we all had enough to eat.”
As the employee nodded in agreement he felt Robin Hood roll his eyes. God, why did Robin have to be such a goody-toe-shoes? A white lie never hurt anyone, he was just being an annoyance.
As Akechi grabbed his food and took off his princely persona scolded him.
“You didn’t need to lie,” his words flow through Akechi’s head as if they belong there. He hates that. He hates that he can hear voices that aren’t his own.
“And what,” Goro thought back, “I tell her that I overbuy to be petty? That it brings me joy to purchase more than I need and take from someone else?”
As if a fact, Robin Hood said, “That is not why you buy two buckets.” True.
“You don’t know me,” he thought bitterly without a hint of irony and hailed a taxi. The car ride back to his apartment was pleasantly silent and that unnerved the boy. He had expected Loki to make a snide remark of cackle at his souring mood. After all, wasn’t the God of mischief supposed to enjoy a grand show of internal discourse?
But both Loki and Robin Hood remained silent. Generously, Akechi tipped his driver and walked into his building. He saw the small, but just as dazzling, Christmas tree in his building’s lobby and thought back to the square. Oh, damnit he had forgotten to get a tree this year.
Opening his doorway he was met with the familiar sort of emptiness an orphan comes to expect from a place called home. At least it was warm inside.
As he unwrapped his scarf and hung up his coat he wondered how he could have forgotten something as crucial as a tree. Was he really so busy now that he couldn’t even remember the basics?
“We could have helped you remember,” Robin Hood said. “If only you let us talk to you more.”
In the comfort of his own home Akechi no longer had to think what he wanted to say. He also no longer had to uphold the pretense of being professional or polite, so he responded out loud and with snark dripping from his voice.
“You talk plenty thank you. And I don’t want help from random strangers.”
“I am thou,” the hero started.
“Thou art I,” Akechi finished unimpressed. “I don’t know you and you don’t know me. We are business partners for all intents and purposes. So could you let me live my life in silence please?”
“Silence is to be alone,” Loki piped up. “You are never alone.”
“Trust me,” Akechi said as he unboxed his food, “I know.”
His table already had a ruby red tablecloth elegantly draped over it, he just needed to add a little more. He placed one chicken bucket on one side of the kitchen table and another directly opposite. He set the table rather plainly but still nice, his cutlery being put into correct size order as he made the table.
Once he finds the scenery aesthetically pleasing he begins to take a few photos and uploads them to his blog.
“Why do you do that,” Loki asked, clearly not understanding his desire for silence.
“What?”
“The blog. It’s ridiculous. Who cares what you eat, I know you certainly don’t.”
“Shut up,” Akechi said dismissively as he tried to come up with a caption. “And stop talking.”
Robin Hood tsked. “Those mean the same thing, my child.”
“Do you need something,” Akechi growled. He was having a rough time with this caption. Would a simple Santa emoji and tree be enough? Should he say Merry Christmas? Fuck, why was this so hard?
Loki takes the invitation to speak, because of course xe does “I need you to stop overthinking it. You don’t need to be perfect in every post, It’s not life or death. We have seen life and death. Calm down.”
For a monster with such a callous voice, Akechi almost felt at ease at that moment. It has been a while since he thought to let himself breathe.
“Loki is right,” Robin Hood agreed readily. “You might not even need a caption. Just post the photos and see what happened.”
In an odd sort of haze, Akechi found himself doing exactly as they said, and immediately his usual replies and likes flooded in. It seems the detective prince is still beloved, even if he says nothing.
“You should listen to us more.”
“I won’t,” he replied without any malice. He was just letting them know, he didn’t value their opinion in the slightest.
Sitting down to eat he vaguely remembered how much his mother loved this holiday. They weren’t Christian-- hardly anyone in Japan was-- but she made a huge deal about Christmas. It was her favorite time of year. The songs, the dancing, the winter snow.
It all blended so perfectly.
His mother had the voice of a songbird. She could hold any tune. Her voice was so sweet it caught everyone who heard it into a state of utter awe. He wondered if Robin Hood remembered how lovely she sang. He was around at the end of her life.
“I do,” he confirmed and Akechi stilled. Right he’s never alone. “Her musical talent was languages better than one would imagine considering she had no formal training. She could have been a classical singer if she wanted-- or maybe an actually talented pop artist.”
Akechi remained quiet. He didn’t want to talk about this right now, if ever. As he bit into his chicken each but felt blander and blander. Each mouthful was coarse, like grains of sand. How unappealing.
Not even half-way done he rose from the table, too disgusted to finish. His mom loved fried chicken for Christmas and while Akechi never understood how it had become a tradition or why he respected her enthusiasm all the same.
Meals never did taste as good when you were alone though.
“You have never been alone,” Robin Hood said again. “Whether in the group homes, in foster family’s houses, or with your mother, you have always had me and eventually you unlocked Loki. As long as we are here you aren’t alone my child.”
“Would you stop saying that,” he spat. “It’s not true. If Wakaba’s research is correct then you two are just me, right? It’s just me, myself, and I. All alone in this world. Sure, you two don’t sound like me but you are me.”
“That doesn’t make you alone,” Loki interjected, xyr tone unimpressed with Akechi’s analysis. “We are not you, but a part of you. You are the body, we are the people and thoughts inside. We are not totally different people but fragments of you. You should know this,” xe chastised and lowly chucked as if talking down to a dog who couldn’t learn a simple trick.
“Fuck off,” he snapped and stomped out of his kitchen and into the living room.
Loki waited a moment before responding. “Your insolence will get the better of you”
“Rich coming from you.”
“Boys, boys,” Robin Hood said. “Stop fighting it’s Christmas Eve, now is not the time.”
Akechi turned on his television and the first thing that popped up was some holiday commercial for cookies. As the ad faded out and a new one replaced it Loki perked up.
“We should make cookies.”
“For who,” Robin Hood asked.
“Ourselves,” Loki said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.
“No,” Akechi said.
He can practically feel the disgusting Cheshire cat smile that spread on Loki’s metaphysical face. For the next ten minutes, his persona doesn’t shut up making random and disturbing noises that make Goro want to bash his head against a wall. Robin Hood said nothing.
Warily he asked, “If I buy you some cookies will you stop?”
“No, we have to make them.”
“Why,” he doesn't whine but it’s close.
“Because it will be fun! And Santa doesn’t want store-bought cookies, he’s all about the real deal.”
“Santa doesn’t exist.”
“Not in this word.”
He blinked. “Excuse me are you saying that some persona user out in the world is summoning the Santa myth to aid them in battle?”
“Yes,” Robin said, “that is exactly what Loki is saying. I for one would appreciate some home-made cookies and stores will close soon so we best be off, don’t you agree.”
He groaned but put his coat back on. God, living with voices was such a nuisance.
“Don’t forget your scarf,” the hero chimed.
Goro mocked him and out of spite didn’t put his scarf back on. As he trudged through the light flurry of snow that started he felt his neck growing cold. Perhaps he should have gotten his scarf but he’d never admit that out loud.
Buying the first cookie dough batch with icing included that he saw he bought the pack and made his way back home. This was so stupid. He was horrid in the kitchen. Every single cooking attempt had failed horrifically and with something being burnt beyond recognition.
Yet there he stood in his stainless steel kitchen reading the directions and rolling his eyes. Well, it seemed baking was infinitely easier than cooking-- or at least fewer steps.
Taking out the dough and the cookie cutters in the set shaped the sweets into trees and stars.
“Are you not going to do reindeer,” Robin Hood questioned.
“They are gross, like horses.”
“They are cookies, my child.”
“But he’s right,” Loki said, “They are disgusting little creatures. Snotty, smelly, overall a true burden. Like children I guess.”
“Like children,” Akechi agreed.
“You all have such a horrid take on life.”
The other persona snickers “Sorry Robin Hood, too busy being right to hear about what you’ve got to say.”
“Children are a blessing.”
As Akechi takes out a sheet pan-- something he didn’t even know he had-- he said, “Children are to be seen and not heard. Children are not a blessing because they can never follow that rule.”
“Humanity tends to make an awful lot of noise,” Robin tried to reason. “It is only natural that kids would be noisy too. And Goro, dear?”
“Hm?”
“Please don’t put the raw cookie dough onto the sheet directly. You are supposed to use tinfoil.
Akechi raised a brow. Since when was that a thing? “Eh?”
Loki let a chortle run loose through xemself. “Are you stupid? You are always supposed to use tinfoil. No wonder shit gets burnt so often with you! You can’t put food directly on the conductor like that. It’s a giant slab of metal for god's sake!”
A mad blush overtook the boy’s face. “Shut up,” he cried. “Shut up right now or else neither you nor Santa will get any of these damn cookies. And let me work in peace will you?”
Loki surprisingly quieted down but not with a little harumph.
Akechi pulled the tinfoil over his sheet and placed his cookie dough cut-outs down gently. “Okay,” he started picking up the box once again to read. “I’ve got to put these in the oven for ten to fifteen minutes and while they bake we can get the icing.”
He put the sheet in the oven and waited five minutes before checking on them again.
“Why aren’t they rising?”
Robin Hood failed to suppress a snort. “You didn’t preheat the oven. I don’t know how you expect these cookies to bake without any heat.”
Akechi stared blankly for a moment before quietly trying to contain a scream. “And you didn’t tell me?!”
He could feel Loki smirk. Asshole.
He finally preheated the oven and put the cookies in. Sulking he waited all fifteen minutes directly in front of the oven, unwilling to look away.
“You know now that you’ve actually heated up the oven you don’t need to stare at it right? Your eyes don’t have lasers that can cook them faster.”
“Yes Loki,” he said exasperated, “I know that. I was hoping you would take the hint like Robin Hood did and see I don’t want to talk.”
“Little one,” Robin sounded solemn, “you never want to talk. It’s worrisome.”
“I’m not little.”
“You’re smaller than both of us kiddo.”
“Fuck off you zebra print purse.”
The prince persona made a dissatisfied grunt. “That wasn’t very nice. I understand Loki can be a bit...much but you mustn’t say things like that. Whether you like it or not, we are together. We are a family of sorts.”
“If we’re family then I’m the easter bunny,” Akechi joked, completely lacking any real humor.
“Stop being an asshole,” Loki told him. “Robin is a holier-than-thou pain in the ass sometimes but he’s right. We’re a family. As long as you have us-- as long as you have yourself-- you aren’t alone. It’s getting depressing watching you dig yourself into a deeper hole every day. Take a damn break.”
Akechi opened his mouth to say something but was cut off by the dinging of the oven. He took a deep breath and attempted to not lash out. He didn’t agree with what xe or Robin had claimed but it was Christmas and he needed to ice these cookies so he could get to bed and pretend everything was okay tomorrow morning.
Hesitantly he opened to oven take out the hot deserts. Staring down at the star and tree shapes he noted, with a frown, how some of them had gotten misshapen. Should he throw them out?
“No don’t,” Robin hood said. “You can give the messy ones to the family down the hall tomorrow morning as a gift. Their children will eat anything, right?”
Akechi nodded. Yes, that seemed like a good plan. No need to waste food. “Well Loki,” he asked, “Any icing request? This is for you after all.”
“No, it’s for Santa.”
“Santa isn’t real,” Akechi said firmly.
“You’re no fun.”
“I’m sorry but he’s right you are quite the party pooper little one.”
“Whatever,” he waved his hand dismissively as if clearing his own thoughts. He was fun! People liked him! He wasn’t a party pooper!
Grabbing the green icing he began to fill in the tree shapes leaving some room for ribbons of white and gold. As he painted each cookie he felt a sort of pride. Sans a few of them, they were looking nothing short of amazing.
Maybe he should bake more.
“You should,” said Robin Hood because they never can leave him be. “It’s a healthy way to release emotion.”
“I don’t need to release emotions.”
“Yeah right kid,” the dark persona mutters with pity lacing xyr voice. “You can’t just keep things inside you until you die. It doesn’t work like that. That’s how you get another one of me.”
“I don’t need life lessons from an immortal trickster.”
“Well, it’s not like you take my life lessons either.”
“I don’t need either of you,” Akechi declared as he moved onto the stars. He decided to make them classic yellow, for simplicity.
With noises of disagreement, the personas allowed the boy to continue his decorating without any commentary. When he finished he whipped out his phone and began taking photos.
“Are these going on the blog?”
“What?” Akechi seemed shocked at the question. “No, these are for me.”
“Oh how cute,” Loki croons. “Sometimes you act like you don’t hate us and it is absolutely precious.”
Goro stopped taking photos. “I don’t hate you,” he said seriously.
Robin Hood is surprised. “You don’t?”
“I don’t hate you guys, I just wish you weren’t around all the time. You’re always in my business trying to know how I feel. It’s invasive and annoying. Also you just always want to talk-- sometimes the best thing is silence! But I don't hate you.”
“You just described a parent,” Loki said with a hint of pride.
“No,” Akechi deadpans, unwilling to humor the thought. “You aren’t my parents. You screamed in my year until I went out to get your cookies. Parents don’t do that.”
“Never said we were good parents. But parents nonetheless.”
“Shut up and stop talking so I can eat this cookie and you can get your sugar high.”
“Oh, oh sure. But don’t forget to leave some for the kids and Santa.”
Akechi bit into the sugar cookie and his stomach gurgled, seemingly begging for real food. RIght he didn’t finish dinner. Whatever, he can come back to it. He just needs to pack it up into the refrigerator.
As far as cookies go, they weren’t horrid. They weren’t a god sent but they were decent and Loki hummed happily as each one was swallowed. Akechi pondered if his personas could actually taste what he tasted or if it was all an act.
Despite hearing his thoughts neither of them responded.
The night wound down and eventually, Akechi found himself putting out milk and cookies for a Santa that wasn’t coming. There wasn’t even a tree in the apartment for God's sake…
But still, he platted the deserts and left them out on his now cleared kitchen table. He turned on the t.v. and watched a late-night Holiday special. As an unremarkable movie came to a cheesy end he felt his eyelids grow heavy.
He woke up the next day with back pain and a blanket over him. He blinked. He didn’t have a blanket before. Removing himself from the couch he turned to see his cookies had turned into mere crumbs.
Someone-- or something ate them. Walking over perplexed he saw a note next to the plate. It read:
Dear Kid,
I hope you like all the work we went through to manifest in reality for you! It was a lot of hard fucking work but we tried. Yeah, we ate the cookies. Yeah, we gave you your blanket. And yeah we put the present in your bedroom but pretend it was Santa would you? It’s all about the Christmas spirit and you need some holiday joy in your life. Whether you like it or not we aren’t giving up on you. We are a family and we stick by one another. Stay with us kid, you’re gonna go far as long as we look out for you.
Love,
Robin Hood and Loki
With bulging eyes, he re-read the note over and over again. Huh? Personas could leave mementos? Was that allowed? How? And what present in his bedroom? Cautiously he crept into his room. By the sound of the note, it seemed to mostly be Loki writing it. What sort of thing would a deity of chaos give a boy?
Surely nothing good.
Opening the door he blinked as tears flooded his eyes. Sitting prim and proper was a mint condition Proof of Justice ray gun clearly never before touched. It was nothing like the ragged, second-hand version Akechi slung around in the metaverse.
It was pristine and still in its box. Untouched. Wow.
He remembered asking his mother for this gun. He remembers he wanted to be a hero so badly…
Wiping a stray and unexpected tear away he sniffed trying to get his dignity back. He was a teenager, he couldn’t be crying over such a childish toy! It was uncouth and ridiculous! And yet he here he was, feeling an overwhelming amount of fondness.
Of course, they knew he still cared so deeply about the stupid gun. Of course, they knew the significance. God damn, they knew him well.
Just like any good family should.