Archive of Our Own

Today’s hottest new group, the Phantom Thieves, have taken the music world by storm! Led by their charismatic vocalist, Joker, the Phantom Thieves have consistently released chart-topping singles--but it wasn’t always that way.

I sat down with Joker to learn about the band’s past. When I first saw him, I thought someone was playing a practical joke on me! At first glance, he looks like an unassuming high schooler. When you take a closer look, however, you can very clearly see exactly how his Joker persona came to be. With a charming smile and a smooth voice, he won me over as easily as every other woman.

As per usual, I won’t be releasing his name or any other physical attributes--that was his only requirement for this interview, after all. Any fan of the Phantom Thieves knows they release songs under complete anonymity.

ME: So! How was your trip here? I hope everyone treated you well!

JOKER: Yeah, totally! The subway was a little slow though. *LAUGHS* I guess you can’t control that.

ME: You never know. *LAUGHS* Let’s get into it, shall we?

JOKER: Let’s do it.

ME: So, the Phantom Thieves. How’d you start?

JOKER: Well, after I met our manager, everything kinda fell into place. It had been Skull, Panther, Fox, and me for a while but it wasn’t until Queen joined our little team that we actually started seriously making music.

ME: How’d you meet Skull, Panther, and Fox?

JOKER: We went to the same school, but I met Fox at a concert, actually.

ME: Which concert?

JOKER: *LAUGHS* I’m not sure if I can say, honestly. Let me put it this way: you can’t go to his concerts anymore.

ME: Ah, you’re probably talking about Madarame, then?

JOKER: No comment.

ME: Okay, okay. And Noir? How’d you meet her?

JOKER: At a recording studio! We saw her and it was an instant match.

ME: Was this recording studio the infamous Okumura Records?

QUEEN, THE MANAGER: Next question, please.

“Jesus Christ, Makoto! The hell was that all about?”

“Shut up, Ryuji! We’re getting to the good part!”

We continued like this for a while. You can read the full interview at my personal blog, OHYAPOST.

“Oh, come on! She didn’t even post the full interview!”

“Quiet! There’s another article further down, see?”

“‘Who Is Joker From The Phantom Thieves Dating?’ You’re kidding me, right?”

“I kind of want to read it, actually.”

“Akira! Do not reward this behavior.”

“Too late! Already clicked it~!”

Who Is Joker From The Phantom Thieves Dating?
by Ohya Ichiko

Joker from the Phantom Thieves is oftentimes the recipient of love confessions, but many wonder if he may be dedicated to another. I’m here to get to the bottom of this theory and let my loyal readers know if they can fulfill their wildest fantasies with the man himself--that is, if I don’t get to him first!

NUMBER 10: PANTHER

“Why am I number 10?”

“Do you want to be any higher?”

“Well, no, but there’s only two girls in the band!”

“Will you guys please quiet down? I’m still running a business down here, you know!”

“Quiet, old man!”

“Futaba, I told you to finish your homework. And Akira, if you keep hanging out with people younger than you, I’m gonna call the cops on you and you’ll be arrested again.”

“Oh, shit--”

::

When the bell rings, Akira doesn’t look up.

Leblanc is a sleepy cafe, but it still gets some business. And although Sojiro’s got him on dishwashing duty today, he takes this job very seriously. If he looked up every time someone came through the door, absolutely no work would get done.

He does look up, though, when Sojiro greets whoever the customer is with a knowing smile. In the doorway stands a boy around his age. He’s got shaggy brown hair and smile lines--but, Akira observes, no crow’s feet around his eyes. He’s dressed like he just got off of his 9-5 as a detective, what with his black gloves, tan overcoat, and brown briefcase. “Hello, Sakura-san,” the boy says, and holy shit, Akira is in love.

He can barely make out Sojiro responding, “Long time no see, Akechi!” over the sound of a plate slipping out of his lax hands and breaking into pieces.

“Shit, sorry--I’ll clean it up,” Akira calls from the kitchen. He can hear Sojiro grumbling in the front, but that’s not really important when heaven on earth--Akechi, Sojiro had called him--is giggling like Akira being a fool is the funniest thing.

Sojiro says, “Eesh, that kid. You’d think he was raised in a barn!”

Great, Akira thinks. Insult me in front of the cutest boy to ever exist. It’s not like I had a chance, anyways.

“I’m not so sure about that, Sakura-san!” Akechi laughs and Akira’s heart soars. “I’m pretty sure barn animals have better manners!”

Akira drops the pieces of the plate again.

“Wow! Forgot how much spunk you’ve got, kid!” Sojiro cackles.

Pouting, Akira gathers the broken fragments of his heart the plate. “You know this barn animal can hear you, right?” He jokes.

“Oh, we know. That’s why we said it.” Sojiro gestures for Akechi to take a seat at the bar. “You still want the regular?”

“Yes, please,” Akechi says as he brings up his briefcase.

“‘Kira, make him a coffee? And use the Cognoscenti beans, yeah?”

The Cognoscenti beans? Although they’re not the most expensive, they’re definitely fancier than the ones Sojiro uses everyday. If Akechi regularly orders coffee made from Cognoscenti beans, Sojiro must really like him.

No matter. Sojiro doesn’t pay him to analyze the customers. He pays him to do the work the old fart doesn’t want to do.

Akira goes through the motions of making the perfect brew, or whatever nonsense is written on that God-forsaken sign Haru put outside. Since this is already second nature to him, he lets his mind wander--only to find himself staring unabashedly at Akechi.

His cheeks flame as soon as he comes back to himself. “Oh, God, I’m sorry,” he blurts.

Akechi giggles. “No worries,” he squints as he reads Akira’s nametag, “Kurusu-kun. Although, I do hope you know what you’re doing! You’ve been looking at me for...quite a while.”

“Don’t worry about me. I’ve been doing this for what feels like years.”

“That’s because it has been,” Sojiro shouts from the other side of the kitchen.

“Shut it, old man!” Akira hands Akechi his coffee, creamer, and sugar. “Ta-da!”

The coffee Akechi prefers has undertones of chocolate and cantaloupe, which sounds strange until you actually take a sip. From what Akira gathers, the beans were grown in Colombia, up in the volcanic mountains. Although it may not be his personal choice, it fits Akechi. Sweet where you wouldn’t expect it with a hint of something much darker, much richer.

Or, maybe Akira’s reading too much into this.

“Oooh, do I get to judge you now?” Akechi smiles and Akira’s heart skips a beat. He’s not sure if it’s because he’s nervous, or if it’s because Akechi’s just...really cute.

He waits patiently while the brunette takes a long sip of straight black coffee. Akechi swallows, makes a face. Damn it, Akira, you messed up his order. Then, Akechi takes a longer sip.

It continues this way until, finally, Akechi puts down the empty cup. “So?” Akira asks, watching expectantly.

Akechi makes a noncommittal noise. “It was coffee!”

“Ouch! Shot down!”

Akechi laughs. “It was okay! It just...wasn’t Sakura-san’s,” He says.

Well, Akira guesses he’s got a point. Try as he might, he just can’t brew on the same level as Sojiro.

He’s about to respond with a quip when the man himself calls for Akira to get back to dish washing duty now that he’s done with Akechi’s order, and since Akira values his job (and his life), he scrambles to follow the command.

By the time he even makes a dent in the pile of dishes, Akechi’s busy jotting down notes in a notebook. He looks so focused and Akira doesn’t want to break his concentration, so he goes back to work.

When Akira looks up again, Akechi’s gone.

::

The next time Akechi stops by Leblanc, the entire group is over. They’re cramming for finals, and since they’re all sipping on some sort of drink, Sojiro lets them sit in a booth in the corner of the cafe as long as they don’t get too rowdy.

Of course that’s exactly what they do.

Try as she might, Makoto just can’t get everyone’s attention. Ryuji keeps throwing pieces of balled up napkins at Ann to distract her from her conversation with Haru about ballerina shoes and how to tie them best. Morgana is on the table, playing with Makoto’s pens. Futaba and Yusuke are arguing about the difference between visual novels and art, and based on how Yusuke’s voice is steadily rising, Akira has a feeling he may have to break up the fight with his own two hands.

Makoto and him share a glance, and Akira can feel just how desperate she is. Fine, I’ll help out, he thinks.

“Alright, guys,” He claps his hands together and all the conversations stop. Makoto mouths, Thank you.

Right as he’s about to tell everyone to get back on track, the bell rings and Makoto’s face falls.

“Akechi-kun?” She asks, eyes wide.

Akira whips around and, sure enough, Akechi is standing in the doorway.

“Nijima-san! I didn’t know you frequented this place…” Akechi trailed off, obviously recognizing other faces in the group.

Akira realizes just how strange their friend group was. A student body president, two social rejects, an artist, a model, an anti-social computer whiz, and an heir to an international corporation. They made an unlikely party, but the diversity was part of why he loved his friends so much. Plus, that same diversity had led to them becoming a chart-topping band.

To an outsider, though, they looked like a group of teenagers up to no good.

“Hey, Akechi,” Akira says, waving slightly.

“Kurusu-kun? I didn’t know you were friends with Nijima-san… and Okumura Haru? Kitagawa Yusuke?”

Yusuke’s eyebrows furrow. “How do you know my name?”

“I’d recognize Madarame’s student anywhere. I mean, the Phantom Thieves were the ones who first revealed how corrupt he was, right? And as a music critic… it’s only my job to follow the news…”

Akechi was obviously flustered seeing so many people he’d seen in the news. He looks cute blushing, Akira thinks.

“We’re just studying for finals,” he says, bringing everyone’s attention to him. “You’re welcome to join us.”

Half of Akira wishes Akechi would say no so he doesn’t have to deal with his friends making fun of him for his obvious crush. The other half wants so desperately for him to say yes so they can spend time together that he doesn’t care what his friends think.

Akechi looks over their group again, then says, “I-I mean, as long as I’m not a burden…”

Haru smiles in that friendly way of hers. “Of course you wouldn’t be. Here, pull up a chair!”

And so Akechi joins them. Every so often, Haru or Makoto will look up from their books to ask Akechi about what he’s learning in school, but other than that, the seven of them (not including Morgana, who takes one look at Akechi and runs upstairs) study with little to no distractions. Ryuji and Futaba, the usual troublemakers, are too busy trying to figure Akechi out to be annoying.

Ryuji starts to get antsy by the time the sun begins to set, so they decide to stop for the day and promise to come back tomorrow to get another work session in before tests start on Monday.

Futaba takes this as her cue to ask Akechi about anything and everything.

“What’s your favorite anime? Do you have any pets? Can you sing? Can you play any instruments? What do you know about programming? What’s your favorite color?” She bombards him with questions nonstop to the point that Akira’s starting to feel a bit embarrassed.

“Hey, maybe don’t be so loud?” Makoto asks, but Futaba continues to speak over her.

Well, then. Akira stretches out his arms and gets out of the booth. Looks like we’re gonna be here for a while, so might as well make some coffee for us, he thinks.

::

“Listen, it just doesn’t make sense! I don’t know how you could even think Robin Hood is cooler than Captain Kidd!” Ryuji shouts, causing a round of laughter to start up again.

After getting his wrath under control, Akechi rebutes, “Well, I don’t see how Captain Kidd is better than Robin Hood! Listen. Robin Hood redistributes the wealth.”

“Yeah, and that’s badass or whatever, but Captain Kidd is a goddamn pirate!”

Akira cackles as he watches the two argue. It’s funny, seeing someone as prim and proper as Akechi stoop to Ryuji’s level.

Of course, he stops laughing when Akechi levels him with a glare. “Oh, I’m sure you think it’s very funny, Mr. ‘Arsene Lupin is the coolest person to ever exist’!”

“Woah, hey, I’m not a part of this! This is between you and Ryuji,” Akira retorts. Akechi huffs and returns to Ryuji, so Akira decides to get out while he still can. This argument might turn physical at any given moment.

He goes upstairs, where Haru, Makoto, and Ann are gossiping in his room. He’s about to spin his ass around--gossip sessions can be brutal with those three--but, unfortunately, Ann was blessed with both near-supersonic hearing and eyesight and calls him over.

“What’s up?” He asks, partly because he thinks if he feigns innocence, they’ll let him go early.

But that tactic never works. “What’s going on with you and Akechi?” Ann asks, way too loudly.

Akira sputters, looking around. Sure, the cafe is empty, but it’s just big enough that if someone (hint: Futaba) was small enough, he wouldn’t be able to see them coming. When he knows for a fact nobody’s around, he whispers, “Nothing. Now be quiet, please.”

“Mmm, no,” Ann grins.

“Seriously, though. What is going on with you two? You seem offly buddy-buddy… you guys have met before, right?” Makoto questions.

Akira blinks. “I mean, yeah. He stopped by for coffee a week or two ago.”

“I call b-s. There’s no way you guys are acting like that when you met a week ago,” Ann sighs, and Makoto nods.

Akira hates himself for ever coming upstairs. “Acting like what?”

Haru hums. “Well, I guess the way I would describe it would be like an old married couple,” she says, to which Makoto nods in agreeance and Ann gasps.

“Yes! Totally! But, like an old married couple that never got past the honeymoon stage!”

Akira...has no idea what that’s supposed to mean. “I have no idea what that’s supposed to mean,” he tells them.

“You don’t have to,” Makoto explains. “Just keep that in mind, yeah?”

::

If this is the reality of modern alternative rock, I dread the future
-A Comprehensive Review of the Phantom Thieves’ Latest Album-
by Black Mask

I will be the first to admit that I have strong opinions: I prefer my coffee completely black, because anything else is too sweet. I prefer the winter, because the summer is too hot. I prefer good music, because anything else is a waste of my time.

I spent about an hour and a half listening to Let Us Start The Game, the Phantom Thieves’ debut album (you can read my review here), and while it definitely wasn’t an eventful hour and a half, I wouldn’t necessarily call it unbearable.

I can’t say the same for Steal Back Your Future.

Fifty seven minutes of valuable time went straight down the drain. With each song, I was hoping, pleading with some higher power, that I would be able to say something good about this album. Unfortunately for you and me, there’s simply nothing I can compliment.

(To be honest, I may be partially biased. The whole concept is just not my cup of tea. Maybe it’s the campy photoshoots, or the exaggerated live performances, or the downright cringey stage names.)

For some reason, Skull--the band’s lead guitarist--seems to think his talents are on par with legends like Jimmi Hendrix. At least, that’s the only explanation as to why he has a guitar solo in every song on the album. And I’m not exaggerating here! You can listen for yourself, although I do not recommend it.

Thankfully, Noir makes up for Skull’s vanity. In fact, she’s so humble, you can barely hear her! I feel as if the only thing keeping the band in tempo is Fox’s feeble rhythm.

Joker is, inarguably, the most skilled member of the Phantom Thieves, but that really is not saying much. I think a cat could have done better on vocals than whatever was happening in LAST SURPRISE...

[click here for the full article]

The only good thing about this entire album is that it ended. Perhaps, in the deep levels of Hell, should it exist, they are playing LIFE WILL CHANGE on repeat.

::

Goro was having a nice day.

He’d woken up early, so he was able to stop by Leblanc on his way to work. He’d spent time bantering with Kurusu--Kurusu, who had begged him to just call him Akira.

(A voice in the back of his head whispered that he actually enjoyed hanging out with Kurusu and his friends, and he was denying himself happiness by refusing to accept the fact that Kurusu was funny.)

(Goro kindly told the voice to go fuck itself.)

When he got to work, Sae was stuck in a meeting from ten a.m. to three p.m., which meant she couldn’t badger him for details about the Phantom Thieves. He had spent the majority of the day working on reviews of American songs. All in all, his day was relatively care free, and he was having a good day.

Key word was.

While on the subway on his way home, he’d gotten a phone call on that phone. The phone that was reserved for calls from Shido Media.

It had been Shido, of course. Or, rather, one of his interns, since the fucker was too busy to call Goro himself. They told him about the review some paparazzo wrote about the Phantom Thieves and that ‘Shido-san’ was expecting another review by the end of the week.

He’s not entirely sure when he even got off the subway, but when he’d hung up, Goro realized he was wandering around Kichijoji.

Now, he’s sitting at some restaurant booth with a plate of food in front of him. He’s not even that hungry--he always loses his appetite when he thinks about Shido and Black Mask--but he knows he has to eat today.

He’s about to dig in when he hears, “Akechi?”

Goddamnit, now I probably have to deal with some executive, he thinks, mentally preparing himself for the conversation. But when he turns, the mask he usually puts up immediately falls.

Kurusu is leaning against the bar next to him. He’s dressed in casual clothes: jeans, a button up that is currently completely open, and a black t-shirt, with a brown satchel hanging off of his shoulder.

“Kurusu-kun!” Goro cries, noticing with disdain that he doesn’t have to fake his enthusiasm. “How nice to see you here! Why don’t you sit down?”

“No, no, I’m just passing through,” he says.

“Please, I insist! I’ll even buy you some food, yeah?” Goro raises an eyebrow, daring him to refuse. He can practically see the gears turning in Kurusu’s head.

Eventually, Goro wins--the small, vindictive part of him cheers in victory--because Kurusu plops his bag onto the bar and sits down at the open seat next to him.

Kurusu orders some dish Goro’s never heard of, which gives Goro enough time to let his mind wander. Good lord, he’s warm, he thinks. He’s sitting a foot away and I can still feel the heat radiating off of him.

“So, what are you doing in Kichijoji?” Kurusu asks.

Goro sighs. He doesn’t even know the answer to that, which is what he tells Kurusu.

Laughing, Kurusu says, “Yeah, I get that. Sometimes I feel like I’m expected to be in so many places at once that everything starts to blur together.”

Oh. That’s interesting. “Are you a busy man, Kurusu-kun?”

“Well, you know how it is as a high schooler. I’ve got school everyday, plus I work, like, five jobs, so--”

“Excuse me?” Goro interrupts. “Five jobs?!”

Kurusu sucks his teeth. “Yeah. And I do clinical trials for this doctor friend of mine.”

Jesus Christ.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Goro blurts.

“Nope,” Kurusu says, popping the p. “But you gotta make the money somehow, right?”

“I-I guess?”

Goro’s never really worried about money. Sure, it’s been hard living on his own, but he’s always had a steady job. And in the rare instance he didn’t, he always had freelance work he could fall back on. To think that someone who looks as carefree as Kurusu could do all that and still have time to talk to anybody was downright bewildering.

The two of them sit in silence for a while. To be honest, it’s pretty awkward. Goro’s just stuck wondering, while Kurusu’s probably concerned as to why Goro’s staring off into space.

“You know, it’s really not that big of a deal,” Kurusu says. “It gets the job done, and I always have some time to spare at the end of the day.”

Goro sputters. “H-how?!”

“I don’t know, it just always works out that way.” Kurusu reaches up and fiddles with a strip of his hair.

“Well, I applaud you for the hard work you’re doing. Heaven knows I could never,” Goro laughs.

That lightens the mood, and although they go back to eating in silence, the quiet isn’t suffocating like it was before. Occasionally, Kurusu asks him a question about his day, to which Goro responds (relatively) truthfully.

“So, what do you even do?” Kurusu eventually asks.

“There’s the money question, right? I’m a high school third year by day and a music critic for Public Prosecution Magazine by night!” Goro proclaims. “I actually work under Nijima Sae, actually.”

Kurusu’s eyes glitter with something he can’t name. “Oh, really? What type of music are you in charge of reviewing?”

“All genres. Though, they usually stick me with international music because I’m one of the few reporters who speaks more than one language. And because everyone else is too busy covering the Phantom Thieves.”

“I see… So, since you don’t get to publicize your opinion on the Phantom Thieves, why don’t you tell me? After all, every magazine seems to be split on whether their music is actually good, and I wanna know where you fit in” Kurusu leans closer, as if this is some taboo topic.

For a second, Goro freezes. Does he know?

Of course he doesn’t know, dumbass. Shido doesn’t even know you’re Black Mask, his conscience reminds.

Right. There’s no possible way some fool with glasses could read him that easily.

“Well, I think if the Phantom Thieves are truly standing for what they say they are, they deserve applause, even if their music is not everyone’s cup of tea.” Goro pauses, noticing how Kurusu seems to relax slightly. “However, it’s highly improbable that they actually care about that stuff. I mean, the quality of everything they produce is too high for them to not have serious backing from some big label… off the record, I think they’re as bad as those they speak out against.”

Kurusu’s jaw tenses and untenses. “That sure is an interesting opinion, Akechi-kun. Personally, I think the Phantom Thieves are doing what nobody else has the guts to do.”

Fascinating.

Goro hums as if he is thinking over what Kurusu said. “You might be right, but until I get clear evidence that they’re producing music without falling back on labels, I guess we’ll just have to agree to disagree, then.”

Kurusu nods. “I believe so.” He pulls out his phone and pretends to check the time. “It’s pretty late, wouldn’t you say? Especially for a school night,” he says, gathering his belongings.

It’s six thirty. The sun is still out. Goro doesn’t mention it. “I’d have to agree with you, Kurusu-kun.”

“Well, then. I guess I’ll be seeing you, Akechi-kun,” Kurusu replies.

With a wave over his shoulder, he leaves Goro sitting at the booth.

He is right about one thing, though. They will be seeing each other. After all, Goro’s fascinated, now.

::

After he gets back from Kichijoji, the last thing Akira wants to do is unpack the conversation he had with Akechi.

So, instead, Akira sleeps through the night and a good chunk of the morning. By the time he finally wakes, the sounds of the busy cafe float up the stairs, and Akira gets ready for another day of working to keep his mind off of things.

He gets dressed (and does not think about that dangerous look in Akechi’s eyes when he started talking about the Phantom Thieves--doesn’t think about how his normally light brown eyes darkened, like Akechi wanted nothing more than to destroy them and everything they stood for) and gives Morgana a couple of pets when he jumps onto the table and meows loud enough to be heard downstairs.

Unfortunately, the person he’s most looking to avoid decides to show up.

Akechi sits at the bar, but he’s not in his usual get up. He wears a light blue and black sweater vest over a collared shirt and khakis. His outfit makes him look very soft and approachable, but that’s not what draws Akira’s attention.

Akechi’s unruly hair is pulled back into a low ponytail.

Nope. Akira is not doing this today. He can’t stare at Akechi’s long neck that he’s never even noticed until this exact moment now that it’s revealed in all its glory, not when he’s supposed to be working. He’s just gonna turn the hell around and stay in his room all day, or at least until Akechi leaves, and he’ll never have to know that Akira laid eyes on him--

“Ah, ‘Kira! Nice of you to join the land of the living so early in the morning!”

Goddamnit, Sojiro.

Akechi follows Sojiro’s gaze mid-sip and Akira’s face heats up when he feels Akechi perceive him. The brunette’s lips quirk up and he quickly puts down his coffee cup, patting the seat next to him. Akira scrambles over like a dog--Jesus, how embarrassing.

Sojiro raises an eyebrow, but goes back to watching the news without any comment.

“Kurusu-kun!” Akechi’s smile is bright enough to rival the sun. “Did you see?”

“Hm?” To tell the truth, Akira wasn’t paying attention to what he just said at all, too busy staring at that godforsaken sweater vest.

Akechi’s grin turns vicious for a second, and Akira remembers why he was avoiding him. He’s dangerous, says the Joker part of his brain. He’ll chew you up and spit you out.

“Your Phantom Thieves dropped a teaser for a new release,” Akechi spits.

“Oh, really? They must have released it when I was asleep,” Akira hums noncommittally. “Are you going to write a review?”

“Oh, no. Someone as insignificant as me--” Akira makes a face at that-- “isn’t put in charge of big groups like the Phantom Thieves.”

“Then, what are you working on?” He gestures towards the brown notebook laid open on the bar.

Akechi blushes. “N-nothing. Just a personal hobby of mine,” he says, pushing the notebook away.

Akira sees an opening to sidetrack the conversation away from the Phantom Thieves runs with it.

“Oh? A personal hobby?” He teases, and Akechi’s face flares up even more. “How personal is personal? Is it journaling? Scrap-booking? Pen Pal-ing?”

“None of that! Stop being so nosy,” Akechi hisses.

Akira leans into Akechi. “It’s a diary, isn’t it.”

Akechi pushes him away, grumbling, and Akira lets him.

::

At Akira’s grandmother’s house, there had been this table in the dining room that she never let him touch. It was a beautiful mahogany table that his grandpa had built and it was always covered by a tablecloth made of white lace. Akira assumed he could never touch it because it was too precious to her and he’d somehow ruin it.

One day, his younger cousin came barreling into the dining room and couldn’t stop herself from running straight into the table.

His grandmother had rushed over to her side, calling over her shoulder for somebody to get the first-aid kit. Akira had stupidly thought, What? Is she going to put a band-aid on the table? Then, he saw the blood.

As one of his uncles wrapped gauze around his crying cousin’s bleeding head, his grandma held her in her arms and mumbled something along the lines of, “This is why I told you to stay away from the table.”

The mahogany table that his grandpa built had been so carefully crafted, so his grandmother could never get rid of it. But having it around was almost begging for something to happen because it was all sharp edges hidden underneath beautiful lace.

Akira thinks Akechi is like that table, in a way. It’s undeniable that there’s something dark hiding underneath his seemingly impenetrable mask.

And, yet, Akira finds himself drawn to Akechi like a moth to a flame, a dog to meat, a child to a table they’re not supposed to touch.

Stay away from him, warns the intelligent side of his brain.

Learn everything you can about him, goads the riskier side.

Akira’s not sure which side to listen to, but he finds he doesn’t mind.

::

Goro’s got half a mind to stop leaving his flat altogether because, honestly, it feels like the universe is out to get him.

Holding his briefcase over his head, he runs out of the train station. Sometime during his line shifts, the sky decided to split open and unleash hell upon Earth in the form of a thunderstorm. Then, while waiting for the train that would take him home, an announcement played that claimed, due to the sudden weather, there would be a delay that would last at least three hours.

Great. Just great.

Now he’s stuck in Yongen-Jaya for the foreseeable future unless he wants to walk all the way back to Shibuya in the pouring rain. Thankfully, there should be one place in particular that will take him in.

When he swings the door open to Leblanc, he’s taken back by how empty it actually is. Usually there’s at least one or two customers milling about, but today Sojiro is nowhere in sight and Kurusu’s sitting at a booth in the corner of the cafe, although he scrambles up as soon as he hears the bell signal Goro’s entrance.

“I wasn’t on my phone!” Kurusu yelps, but he relaxes when he makes eye contact with Goro. “Oh, it’s you! I thought you were Sojiro,” he explains. “Wait. Why are you dripping wet?”

Goro chuckles dryly. “Didn’t bring an umbrella.”

Kurusu’s eyebrows jump. “Oh, that’d explain it,” he mutters. “Stay there, I guess? Lemme get you a towel.”

So Goro stands in the doorway with a puddle quickly forming underneath him for about five minutes while Kurusu clambers around the cafe. He returns with a huge white towel and a stack of clothes. He offers them to Goro with a smile. “Here you go. You can change and dry off in the bathroom, and then we’ll hang your clothes up upstairs so they can dry.”

Goro swallows but he doesn’t object. He puts down his suitcase and takes the pile from Kurusu, who just smiles at him again. In the cramped bathroom, he quickly strips and towel-dries himself. Kurusu gave him a pair of boxers, comfortable but obviously worn sweats, a black baseball tee, and a black hoodie. Goro forgoes the boxers--the pair he has on right now are perfectly clean and dry, thank you very much--but puts the rest on.

To his dismay, the hoodie is slightly baggy on him (which doesn’t make sense, Goro’s at least two inches taller than Kurusu) and smells like coffee and something that can only be described as Kurusu Akira. The combination of the intoxicating scent and comfortable size makes Goro blush so hard, he has to cool himself down with water.

This shouldn’t be happening, he tells himself. You should not be getting flustered by wearing some useless idiot’s clothing.

With that thought, he leaves the bathroom with the towel and his old clothes balled up in his hands. Kurusu looks up from where he had been leaning against the stair post and turns a bright red.

Seeing Goro in his clothes made Kurusu as flustered as Goro was wearing them. Interesting.

“W-well, then, let’s get your clothes all hung up, yeah?” Kurusu practically runs upstairs, not sparing a second glance at Goro. He follows soon after, albeit at a much slower pace.

Together they suspend his clothes. When they’re done, they stare awkwardly at each other.

“So,” Goro starts.

Kurusu tsks. “So.”

“Thank you for letting me come in,” he says. “I’ve been having quite a day.”

Laughing, Kurusu plops down on his cot. “Yeah, you looked like a drowned cat. Anyways, want me to make you some coffee?”

“Oh, no, I don’t want to be a burden.”

“Eh, I’ve been kind of craving some coffee myself. I’ll even make some curry to go along with it.” Before Goro can argue, Kurusu’s downstairs.

Okay then. Kurusu trusted him enough to leave him in his room alone, so obviously Goro’s going to take advantage of this and snoop.

The room itself is pretty plain--it’s very clearly the attic on top of a cafe. Still, though, whether it’s the hazy string lights in the rafters or the shelf full of keepsakes, there’s a certain charm that just fits.

Goro is wandering about the room, taking in the dusty TV and the repair table and the plant in the corner when he hears Kurusu’s footsteps leading up the stairs, so he scurries to sit back down on his bed where he had been when Kurusu left.

Kurusu enters his makeshift room, somehow balancing two mugs and two heaping plates of curry, which Goro hates to admit is impressive. “Have a look around?” he asks, and Goro flushes.

“I was just wondering where you got all of those ramen bowls,” he lies. In all honesty, he could care less about the ramen bowls.

Kurusu laughs. “Remember my friend Ryuji? The vulgar one with the blonde hair?” Goro nods in confirmation. “Well, whenever we get ramen together, he always buys me these tacky gifts. I put them on display so when he comes over, he can see just how much money he’s spent on an inside joke.”

Goro’s stomach twists painfully. The only possible explanation is that he’s hungry.

(No, you’re not, says the voice in his head. You just don’t like the idea of Kurusu hanging out with other people.)

He ignores that goddamn voice and smiles. “Ah, that would make sense.”

“Yeah, it’s really not that funny when you have to explain it. But it never fails to make Ryuji groan, so I keep doing it. Anyways, I have your coffee and curry right here if we wanna start eating?”

They sit down at Kurusu’s table. Goro’s about to start eating when Kurusu jumps up, face slack.

“I can’t believe I almost forgot! Can’t have curry without a little mood music, right?” He grins at Goro, who just blinks in response. He grabs a CD player out of what looks like a junk pile and inserts a disk that he shows off to Goro. Soft jazz fills the room as soon as he presses play.

“I didn’t know you listened to jazz,” muses Goro.

Kurusu hums. “I listen to everything, honestly. I’m sure you can say the same, especially as a music critic.”

Oh, how wrong he is. “I really only listen to music for work.” Kurusu gapes, and Goro suppresses a snort at how cute ugly he looks. “After a long day of work at the cafe, do you really want to drink coffee?”

“Coffee and music are so different, though! Coffee tastes and smells the same, but music--it’s so diverse, I can’t see how you would get tired of it!” Something passes over Kurusu’s face, as if he wants to say something, but doesn’t at the same time.

Instead of replying, Goro nuzzles into his hoodie and pushes his now-empty plate away. Then he remembers the hoodie isn’t his and sits up straight again. He watches Kurusu eat, surprisingly comfortable sitting in silence.

Kurusu is a welcome breath of fresh air compared to Goro’s busy work day. He’s made a place in Goro’s life without either one of them realizing, it seems. When he’s around him, he doesn’t feel the need to hide behind a mask. Sure, there will always be some things he can never reveal to Kurusu, but secrets are better than a complete facade.

“Akechi-kun?” Kurusu’s voice breaks Goro out of his daze, and when he refocuses, he’s smiling knowingly.

“Hm? Oh, sorry, I was a bit distracted. Were you saying something?”

“Nothing much. I just wanted to know if--”

Kurusu is interrupted by a bell jingling. “‘Kira? You in here?” A female voice asks.

His eyebrows furrow and he tells Goro to give him a second before trotting down the stairs. When he returns, there’s a teenage girl with bright orange hair and humongous glasses trailing behind him--Sakura Futaba, if Goro remembers correctly.

“Sorry, Akechi-kun, I think I’ve gotta go. You’re free to stay! I just don’t know when I’ll be back,” Kurusu says, rubbing the back of his head apologetically.

Ah.

Goro’s not one to third-wheel, so he lies, “I think I best be on my way, too, before the last train leaves.” He gathers his stuff quietly, pretending not to feel Futaba and Kurusu stare at him from where they’re sitting on his bed, waiting for him to leave so they can do who knows what. “Well, then, I’ll be seeing you, Kurusu-kun.”

“Let me at least walk you to the station, Kurusu says as he stands up.

“No, thank you. I’m sure you’re very busy,” he says, not wanting to be blamed for ruining date night.

“Really, I have to insist--”

“And I have to insist you sit back down, Kurusu.” Goro doesn’t want to continue this silly game of Kurusu pretending to care about him. He feels like a fool, and now he just wants to lay down in his bed.

And without even looking back, Goro walks downstairs and leaves Leblanc.

::

It isn’t until he gets home that Goro realizes he’s still wearing Kurusu’s clothes.

::

Akechi Goro: I’m sorry, I don’t have your number saved. May I ask who this is?

Akechi Goro: I’m perfectly fine. You don’t have to worry about me.

Akechi Goro: Oh. Well then.
Akechi Goro: Seems like I can’t stop you. Do whatever you please.

::

“Okay, let’s take it from the top!”

The way this song starts is with, to put it simply, a whole lot of noise. But then the noise turns into something more refined--something funkier. The song, which they’ve affectionately called “Layer Cake” (mostly because there’s so many layers to it) requires everyone (everyone meaning Ann on the piano, Ryuji and Yusuke on the guitar, Akira on the bass and Haru on the drums) to give it their all, past what Makoto expects. If even one person is slightly distracted, the groove is completely destroyed.

Which is why when Ann’s phone starts blowing up, everyone groans.

“Come on, Panther! We’ve been at it for, like, five effin’ hours!” Ryuji cries.

“Sorry! It’s my agency. They want me to come in tomorrow and they’ve been texting me nonstop!” Ann explains, but Ryuji’s too upset to listen.

“It’s okay! This is actually a good place to stop, I think. Ryuji’s right, we have been practicing for a long time. If you play too much, you’ll just get worse,” Makoto says. The rest of the team mumbles an affirmative and starts to pack up their instruments.

After putting away his bass, Akira stretches and chats with Futaba. She had been working on her homework while they were practicing, but now that they’re done, she’s fidgeting to get conversation in.

“Hey, was Akechi okay? He looked really upset when he left yesterday,” she asks.

Damn it, Akira thinks. Maybe Ann didn’t hear that. But it’s too late.

“Huh? Where was Akechi?” She bounds up to them, blonde pigtails bouncing.

Akira glares at Futaba to keep her silent, but she’s not looking at him. “He was at Leblanc when I stopped by last night.”

Ryuji gasps. “You guys were hanging out without me?”

“We weren’t hanging out,” Akira starts.

“He’s right. They weren’t hanging out. After all, do you wear ‘Kira’s clothes when you hang out with him, ‘Yuji?”

Shit.

“HE WAS WEARING YOUR CLOTHES?” Ann shouts, grabbing onto Akira’s shoulders. “WHY DIDN’T YOU TELL ME YOU GUYS WERE FUCKING?!”

Haru chokes on her water.

“We’re not fucking, Ann, knock it off,” Akira growls.

“THEN WHY WAS HE WEARING YOUR CLOTHES?”

“Guys! It’s past 10 p.m., let’s be--” Makoto begins, but she’s interrupted by the sound of a text notification.

Specifically, a text notification from Akira’s phone.

The entire group freezes and then slowly turns towards where his phone is sitting on top of his bass cover. Akira stands stiffly, walking towards his phone at a snail’s pace.

Akechi Goro: I hope I’m not interrupting anything, but I just thought I should send this to you!
Akechi Goro: link attatched The cat is so cute! And so angy :(

“It’s just Sojiro,” Akira lies, like a dumbass, because he forgets his boss’s daughter is literally staring him in the face.

Said daughter blinks and says, “Sojiro doesn’t have a phone he can use to text.”

“Did I say Sojiro? I meant Takemi.”

“Dude. Just hand over the phone,” Ryuji cautions.

Akira looks at Ann and Futaba and decides that he doesn’t want to fight them. With a sigh, he holds out his phone.

Futaba snatches it without a second glance. “Thank you. Now, let’s place bets on who he was texting. I put my life savings on Akechi.”

“I don’t make bets I know I will lose,” Haru teases.

“Okay, and the winner is...Akechi! Who would’ve known!”

Yusuke grumbles, “I knew.”

Akira sighs even deeper.

“Aw, look at this! He sent you a Reddit post!” Ann smiles and takes his phone. She types something that makes Ryuji cackle from where he’s looking over her shoulder.

“Do I even want to know what she said?” Akira asks.

Ryuji shakes his head.

::

Akechi Goro: Hello! Is this Kurusu now?

Akechi Goro: It’s quite okay! Your friend Tamaki-san told me some very interesting information about you >:D
Akechi Goro: Anyways, I’d like to take you somewhere tomorrow! Unless you have other plans, that is.

::

“Are we all set?”

Goro looks up from where he’s squatting to tie his shoes. Kurusu is pulling on his coat by the door, peering behind his shoulder to check on him.

Goro’s not entirely sure why he’s doing this. This, meaning, the whole act of befriending Kurusu. He really should be focused on finding out who the Phantom Thieves are. Just because he has a sneaking suspicion Kurusu knows more than he lets others know doesn’t mean he’s any closer to helping Shido.

(Shido, the one who ruined your life, whispers the voice in the back of his head. Why would you ever help him ruin somebody else?)

Well, it doesn’t matter. What’s done is done. It’d be rude to withdraw his invitation to the jazz club in Kichijoji now. Goro shakes the thoughts out of his head and plasters on a smile.

(The smile that isn’t as fake anymore.)

“Let’s head out, shall we?”

The train ride is uneventful, thankfully. The two of them are able to catch seats right next to each other, and they spend the trip chatting quietly amongst themselves and pretending they don’t feel electricity when their thighs bump together.

When they reach the club, Goro puts on his most adult-looking smile. “Stay behind me, Kurusu-kun, and let me do the talking,” he advises before they step inside. Kurusu blinks, but he doesn’t argue.

Goro plays the obligatory catching up game with Muhen while handing over the costs for entry. He can feel Kurusu staring at him, but he doesn’t dare make eye contact.

Muhen places a random order for them and then they’re free to find a table.

“So!” Kurusu exclaims after they’re all settled in.

Goro bites his lip, unexpectedly nervous. “What do you think of it so far?”

Kurusu gazes around the sleepy club. “It reminds me of you,” he says.

What?

Blushing, Goro turns away from Kurusu. “W-what’s that even supposed to mean?”

“Warm. Comfortable. The right kind of sketchy. It’s you, Akechi-kun.” Kurusu’s snickers stop Goro from blowing a fuse.

Pouting, Goro says, “You know just the right things to say to make a guy’s heart flutter.” Kurusu opens his mouth to reply when Muhen comes by with their order—from the appearance, it looks like they’re going to be drinking Shirley Temples today.

There’s a song playing on the club’s speakers and Goro finds himself tapping along to the beat, which doesn’t slip Kurusu’s attention. “You come here often?”

Goro can’t contain the snort he lets out. “Wow. First you insult me and now you use ridiculous pick up lines? Do you really think so low of me as to believe that those will ever work?” He mixes his Shirley Temple as he speaks, but that doesn’t mean that this conversation makes him nervous or anything.

“Not at all! I have other plans to win you over, don’t you worry,” Kurusu purrs. Goro levels him with a glare in response, but he’s pretty sure it loses its intended effect when he’s blushing like a schoolgirl.

“While I’m sure these so-called plans are wondrous, that’s not why I asked you to join me,” he admits.

“Oh?” Kurusu smirks like the cat that got the cream. “Why did you invite me, Akechi-kun?”

Good lord. After hanging out with Kurusu not once, not twice, but on three separate occasions, Goro still isn’t sure if Kurusu defaults to this flirtatious player with everyone, or if this personality is reserved for only him.

(He has a girlfriend. Why is he flirting with me when he has a girlfriend.)

“What? Is it so hard to believe that I find your company invigorating enough to want more?”

Laughing, Kurusu says, “No, there’s no doubts that being around me is invigorating.”

“Way to think highly of yourself, Kurusu-kun.” Goro grins over the rim of his Shirley Temple. “In all honesty, I wanted to get your opinion on the singer who performs here every so often, but she must not be playing today.”

“Ah, that’s too bad. If there’s any artist who has captured the elusive Akechi-kun’s heart, I surely must meet them.”

“I’m really not that hard of a person to charm, unfortunately.” And isn’t that too true? All it takes is messy black hair, an easy smile, and a good taste in music, and Goro is gone.

(He has a girlfriend, repeats the only remaining sensible voice in his head.)

(Shut the hell up, hisses the louder, more annoying voice.)

Kurusu raises his eyebrows. “Well, then. I think I’ll have to explore that more, but first, where’s the bathroom?”

After Goro has directed Kurusu towards the small, dingy room in the back of the club, he’s left sitting at the table by himself. And, well, Goro’s not an idiot. When inspiration strikes, he grabs on and runs with it, and there’s been an idea brewing in his head ever since he sat down with Kurusu and saw how well the teen seemed to fit in with the general ambience of the club.

He’s not exactly sure how he ends up with his notebook in front of him, furiously scribbling down song lyrics, but he must have been pretty into it, because it isn’t until that phone rings that he’s brought out of his head. With a long suffering sigh, Goro closes his notebook and pulls out the phone dedicated to Shido Media.

“Akechi Goro speaking.”

::

Akira really doesn’t think he spent too much time in the restroom, but when he returns to their table, Akechi’s gone.

Gone. As in, he’s not there anymore. In fact, nothing of his is there, except for that notebook he carries around with him everywhere. Akira looks around the club for him, but he genuinely can’t find him.

Did I just get ditched?

Akira shakes the thought out of his head. Even though he may be hiding something, surely Akechi wouldn’t be a big enough asshole to leave without any explanation.

He slides the notebook into his bag and walks over to the manager. Willing his nerves down, Akira says, “Excuse me, but have you seen the boy I came with? He has brown hair, and he’s a couple centimeters taller--”

“You mean Akechi-kun, right?” Muhen interrupts. “He left in a rush, like, thirty seconds ago. He was on the phone and he looked pretty upset.”

“Upset?”

Muhen nods. “Listen, Akechi-kun is a good regular of Jazz Jin, and any friend of his is like a friend of mine. So listen to what I gotta say, from one friend to another. It takes a lot to get him so worked up. You better check up on him, ‘kay?”

“O-of course. You don’t happen to have his address, do you?”

“What do I look like, the kid’s dad? Of course not! What are you doin’ standin’ around here, anyways? Go catch up to him!” Muhen cries, shoving Akira out before he can say anything else.

Well. Guess he’s got a point.

With a sigh, Akira heads back to Leblanc, pulling out his phone to update his friends.

(Before Akechi had come over to Leblanc, Ann and Ryuji had stopped by to see if Akira wanted to watch some movie with them. When he told them he already had plans, Ann had texted all of his friends and forced Ryuji to help her pick out an outfit for Akira.)

takamakiann <3: aw i’m so sorry :( that sounds like it sucks

Haru!!: It’s okay! You have his chat ID! You can always text him!

ryuj1: yea rite. kira knows better than to be down so bad for a tool like akechi

KITAGAWA: What does “down so bad” mean

Akira continues to text them until he reaches Leblanc. Sojiro already closed up shop, so all he needs to do is get ready for bed and he can finally put this day behind him.

Nijima Makoto: Sorry, I just caught up with the chats. Did you say that Akechi left his notebook?

your supreme overlord futaba: well then what are you waiting for ??? go read it (=ＴェＴ=)

Haru!!: I’m not so sure you should do that! It’s kind of a huge invasion of his privacy…

ryuj1: hello!! this is akechi we r talking abt. doesn’t matter when its abt him

your supreme overlord futaba: just bc u think he’s taking ur place as kira’s bffl doesn’t mean u have to hate him (－‸ლ)

Akira gets up from his cot with a groan. Morgana, who had been asleep up until Akira’s phone started to buzz, makes a soft noise as if to say, “What are you doing awake?”

I don’t know, Akira thinks to himself.

He pulls out Akechi’s notebook from his bag. It looks pretty inconspicuous at first glance, but upon further inspection, the notebook is obviously well-used. The leather binding is worn out and some pages are bent, almost like they’ve gotten wet and dried on multiple occasions.

takamakiann <3: he hasn’t said anything in a while do you think he’s still okay

Akira turns off his phone and focuses all of his attention on the notebook, now that he’s sitting back in his bed.

“Am I really going to do this?” He asks out loud.

Morgana blinks at him from where he’s laying at the foot of his bed.

Guess that’s my answer.

He undoes the elastic closure keeping the notebook sealed and flips to the first page.

Akira shuts the notebook.

::

“Okay, he’s secretly a reporter working for Shido Media, a.k.a the huge recording label that had you arrested when you were fifteen. So what?” Ann says.

“Don’t forget the fact that his reporter persona has permanently ruined at least fifteen bands, all of which stood against Shido Media, to the point that they were practically irrelevant,” Futaba adds.

Ann glares at her. “You’re really not helping my case here.”

“That’s not all! Remember how he posted that really shitty article about how terrible we were, or some crap like that?” Ryuji crows.

Akira rubs the bridge of his nose, where he can feel a headache incoming. Makoto, standing by his side, rubs a hand across his back. “You guys, maybe we should really consider the idea that this might be a joke?”

“A joke? Perhaps I am a bit out of the loop, but I believe there is nothing humorous about this,” scoffs Yusuke.

“Think I gotta agree with Inari here. There’s just no reason for the rat to play a trick like this in the first place,” Futaba says while picking up Morgana.

“We’re all missing the point here. It’s not necessarily about whether Akechi is or isn’t the Black Mask, it’s about what we can do to him now that we know.” Ryuji has a dangerous look in his eyes as he cracks his knuckles. Ann just laughs at him.

They all stop talking when they hear footsteps coming up the stairs leading into Akira’s room, but it’s just Haru, who hurries out a “Sorry for intruding!” while taking off her large overcoat. “I’m so sorry I’m late,” she cries. “My dad wouldn’t let me take the train, and traffic was horrible!” Makoto smiles at her and catches her up on everything that’s happened.

Meanwhile, Ann leans into him and says, “Even if he is the Black Mask, he’s still hot, right?”

“Jesus Christ, Ann!” Ryuji groans, standing up. “Listen, I don’t care if you think he’s hot! He tried to ruin us! He was probably only getting close to ‘Kira ‘cause he wanted dirt on the Phantom Thieves.”

“That means Akechi knew Akira is Joker, then,” Yusuke interjects. The team goes silent. “Did I say something incorrect?”

“No, you didn’t,” whispers Ann.

Futaba grimaces. “There’s no way. I have notifications for you guys, like, mega-enabled. If somebody even thinks they know what you look like, I know.”

“But it’s the only explanation as to why he was so fixated on you, Akira.”

Akira smirks. “Wow. You really don’t pull your punches, do you?”

Yusuke blinks.

“Okay, so say Akechi somehow found out you’re Joker. We don’t have to figure out how just yet. We just need to know what he’s going to do with this information,” Makoto, ever the voice of reason, says, and Akira can practically see the tension leak out of everyone now that they have a mission.

“That’s easy. We just gotta read through his diary, right?” Ryuji makes for the notebook laying on the table in the middle of them all, but Ann snatches it up before he makes contact.

She says, “Don’t you think that’s one of the first things ‘Kira did?”

Akira purses his lips. He did not do that.

“Kurusu Akira! You have a bank of knowledge that is crucial to our investigation laying in front of you, and instead of researching, you instead call an emergency meeting?!” Futaba yelps.

Haru, bless her soul, reassures, “It was very nice of you to wait for us.”

Ann hands him the notebook--and Akira’s getting real tired of seeing brown leather-- with an expectant look.

Sighing, Akira cracks it open. He shows everyone the front page and says, “This is as far as I got last time.”

“Last time, as in, an hour ago. Yeah, makes perfect sense,” Futaba mumbles and Ryuji steps on her.

Akira flips the page, but there’s no writing, so he continues. Blank page, blank page, blank page--the notebook is empty so far.

“Wait! Go back! I saw something!” Haru screams, causing Morgana to jolt.

He follows her demands, and sure enough, they’ve finally reached the unofficial first page of the notebook. It’s just scribbles, though, like Akechi was testing out different pens.

“You know what, I’m getting tired of this,” Futaba deadpans, snatching the journal from Akira’s hands. Ann cries out and tries to smack her, but Futaba’s already flicking through the pages. She stops a second later. “See? Just gotta go fast.”

Ann sticks her tongue out and hands the journal back to Akira.

What’s written is a poem--except, it’s not, because there are chords scribbled in the margins. “It’s song lyrics,” Akira realizes.

“Really? What’s it about?” Ann wonders aloud.

“Probably about what it’s like to be a two-timing bastard,” Ryuji growls. Akira ignores him and instead reads the song out to the team.

Haru hums. “It sounds very good! Akechi-kun must be very talented,” she says, to which Ryuji replies with a grumble.

“So what if it’s good? He’s still an asshole.”

“Personal biases aside, I think we can all agree that Akechi is talented, so why is he working for Makoto’s sister at Public Prosecution Publications? Shouldn’t he be working for some big label?” Ann asks.

“Um, technically, he does,” Makoto blurts, referencing the fact that the Black Mask can be (easily) linked to Shido Media.

Akira finds himself just barely holding in a snort of laughter.

They continue to skim Akechi’s journal. It’s a lot of the same things: song lyrics, drafts of Black Mask reviews, and terrible cartoon sketches of Shido.

(Akira cackles at the last one; Akechi sure knows how to show just how shiny Shido’s head is.)

Near the end, the drafts no longer take up every other page, instead showing up maybe once out of seven pages. In their stead are genuine diary entries.

Today I stopped by the cafe in Yongen-Jaya, reads one. Sakura-san is as nice as always, but now he has an apprentice of sorts. He’s my age and is very clumsy. Perhaps I could convince him to help me with my latest mission…

It’s definitely about Akira, and it looks like his friends know that too because they all look up at him with pity in their eyes.

The next page says, I find it interesting how enthralled Kurusu is with the Phantom Thieves. He seemed personally offended when I said they seemed fake...Little does he know, I was testing out the angle I will use for my killing blow. It seems as if the most avid supporters of the Phantom Thieves won’t fall for the “do as I say, not as I do” tactic. Although Kurusu may not be like the other fans… It’s still just a theory, but if I’m correct...Shido will most definitely want to hear about it.

A few blank pages go by, and then, Kurusu showed me some American bands today. I thought I would recognize the song, but I didn’t. He said it was from the ‘90s. I didn’t know he listened to music from that time. I I also wore some of Kurusu’s clothes. They smelled like him. Kurusu is too nice. I almost feel bad for taking advantage of his kindness. Maybe I can repay him with a percentage of Shido’s check. If Shido finds out I’m slacking off, he’ll have my head. He pays me to write bad reviews, not get crushes. Especially not on guys with girlfriends. (That’s right. He has a girlfriend. I’ve never been so disappointed.)

The last entry is from today, Akira realizes with a start. I invited Kurusu to Jazz Jin Club today, although I’m not entirely sure why. He’s in the bathroom right now. Part of me wants to cut off contact with him. I’m growing too fond. What would mother say if she saw me here, spending time with a fool like a schoolgirl in lov

It cuts off there, followed by scribblings further down the page, as if Akechi was on the phone and was writing down a summary of what was being said to him.

3/3 - Phantom Thieves Deadline

S. not willing to negotiate

Concert on Feb 27th, tickets alrdy paid for

“Well, there is quite a lot to unpack, no?” Yusuke mutters, leaning back in his chair.

“Inari, read the room please.”

Ryuji whistles. “Okay, so Akechi’s got a crush on you. You got a crush on him. So what I’m hearing is, he’s not replacing me as your best friend.” Ann turns to glare at him. “What? It’s a valid concern!”

Makoto sighs. “I can’t believe I’m going to say this, but Ryuji is right about one thing. I don’t think we have to be too concerned about him. I think we can safely assume that he doesn’t know about our... other identities. And even if he did… well, he obviously has some sort of feelings for you, Akira, and so… well, I just can’t see him doing anything to harm you.”

“My worry is the deadline. What could that possibly mean?” ponders Haru.

“And there’s also the concert on February 27th. That could only be ours, right? So does that mean--” Ann started.

“He’s coming to our concert. And he’ll most likely use whatever he finds to write some report on us that’ll ruin our careers. That’s what the deadline’s for,” Akira interrupts. “Shido’s got him on deadline to destroy our future as a band.”

Pursing her lips, Haru stands up. “Does that mean we should cancel the show?”

“No,” Makoto demands. “There’s no way. We’ve already sold out on that tour and we’d surely piss off loyal fans. Not to mention the fact that this is Masayoshi Shido we’re talking about. We cancel the show, he buys tickets for another day.”

Futaba groans. “This is so lame! We can’t do anything about this?”

“No. We’ll do something about it. But in the meantime, we’re gonna put on the show. And it’ll be the best show we’ve had so far,” Akira says.

Futaba’s eyes light up. “You don’t mean--”

“Yes.” Akira pushes up his glasses. “We’re gonna show our faces.”

::

Akechi Goro:I’m so sorry that I left so abruptly! Something came up--you know how work is.

Akechi Goro: Yes, of course!

::

Goro doesn’t do concerts. They were loud, and expensive, and everything he stood against. The only reason why he was even at this dismal club on a Friday night was because Shido had ordered him to go.

He’s got his homework spread out around him and he’s nursing his third Shirley Temple of the hour, but he’s finding it hard to concentrate with hoards of babbling teenagers surrounding him.

Goro’s about to snap when, finally, the lights dim even more than they already were. The barkeep stumbles out of some backroom and croaks in that coarse voice of her’s, “Introducing: the Phantom Thieves!”

A group of girls near the stage scream their heads off. Goro gathers his belongings.

Suddenly, a single stage light turns on. “Hey there!” A girl onstage shouts. She’s got two giant blonde pigtails and--Goro blinks, rubs his eyes, but there’s no denying it. She’s got half of a cat mask on and a tail coming out of her long red dress. “I know you prob weren’t expecting me, but, I mean, gotta start somewhere, right!”

A second stage light flickers, this time revealing a guitarist with a fox mask on. “Panther, you really should not sell yourself short,” he murmurs.

Goro thinks, half-manically, Are the Phantom Thieves furries?

Two lights turn on this time. “Fox! You’re supposed to have some sort of flashy line! Like we practiced!” A blonde with a skeleton mask and an electric guitar strapped around his neck cries.

“Oh! You did the same thing he did, Skull,” says a small, almost precious looking girl sitting behind a gigantic drum set.

Panther cackles. “Well, it’s too late now! I’m Panther, providing the hottest vocals you’ll ever hear!”

“‘M Skull! My guitar skills will electrify you!”

“I am Fox, and I will freeze you with my rhythm!”

“Oh! I’m Noir! I’m psychic!”

“No, Noir! Not like that! You missed the whole point!”

Goro rolls his eyes. This has to be the cringiest skit he’s ever seen.

The last stage light activates, and Goro feels like swallowing his words.

Standing center stage is a lean man. He wears a white masquerade mask and a deep red bass guitar hangs low on his hips. He runs a hand through his messy black hair and the girls crowded around the platform scream even louder than before.

Someone in the crowd shouts, “Hey, Joker!” The man looks in their direction and winks.

“Shall we begin?” He says with a smirk, and all of a sudden, Goro’s heart drops, because he knows that smirk.

He sees that smirk in all of his dreams.

That smirk can only belong to Kurusu Akira.

Oh, Goro thinks. I’m fucked.

::

::

::

::

Akira’s almost finished washing the dishes when the bell by the door rings. For a second, Akira thinks, Good, Akechi’s here, but then he remembers.

It’s been four days since the concert. The concert was supposed to kickstart Akechi into saying something, but instead all it did was cause a mess for Futaba to clean up since she had to make sure nobody took any pictures of them when Iwai, their bodyguard, wasn’t looking. Akechi hadn’t texted him since.

He wipes off his hands on his apron and sticks his head out of the kitchen. He’s about to say, “I’ll be right with you,” but as he stares at the customer that just walked in, he finds himself speechless.

There stands Akechi, dressed in light blue jeans and a hoodie that looks all too familiar. He notices Akira’s looking at him and waves awkwardly.

“A-Akechi?” He splutters.

“Hi, Kurusu-kun,” Akechi smiles softly.

That spurs him into action. Akira scrambles out from the kitchen, out from behind the bar. “It’s been so long since I last saw you!”

“It’s only been four days,” Akechi admonishes.

“Felt like forever.” They’re standing close, now, only a couple of inches away.

“I missed--”

“I know--”

They both start at the same time, and Akechi laughs, embarrassed. “You go ahead.”

“I missed you,” Akira says. “Your turn.”

“Oh. Okay. But you might want to sit down for this one, I think,” Akechi warns.

“Then let’s sit down.” Akira grabs Akechi’s hand and drags him over to the booth in the corner.

When they’re seated, Akechi says, “By the way, I missed you too. But I just needed to tell you that. Well. I know you’re Joker.”

Oh.

“And I just needed to let you know because I have this huge deadline coming up, and I really don’t think I can go along with it. I mean, I’ve been debating telling him ever since I found out. But if I tell him, you’ll end up like the rest of them. And that can’t happen to you. I won’t let that happen to you. And so I decided I would just quit. It’ll be easier said than done, but I can’t just stand by and help him ruin you,” Akechi rambles.

“Wait-hold on,” Akira interrupts, pulling Akechi’s hand closer. “What are you saying?”

“I know you’re Joker, the leader of the Phantom Thieves. And I’m Black Mask. I work for Shido Media. And Shido himself gave me this huge deadline to destroy your career because he didn’t like how popular you guys were getting. But I fucked up.” Akechi’s eyes get glossy, like he’s about to cry, and Akira’s heart twists. “I fucked up, and I got too attached. And so now I can’t help Shido anymore. I can’t help him if it means I have to hurt you.”

Akira takes a second to process all of that. “Akechi--no, Goro. I knew all of this.”

Goro makes a noise of confusion.

“Yeah. You left your diary behind the other day, and I kinda started reading it,” Akira admits.

“You...you knew? And you still texted me?”

“No shit. I knew you most likely had your reasons.”

Goro sniffs in response.

“But… What do you mean you got too attached? Who’d you get attached to?”

Goro laughs, but there’s no humour in it. “Who else?”

“Is it...Makoto?” Akira guesses.

“You’ve got to be fucking with me.”

“Listen, I genuinely have no clue.”

“You, dumbass. I got attached to you. But you have a girlfriend, so there’s no point--”

“Woah, woah, what? Girlfriend?” Akira rubs at Goro’s hand imploringly.

“Yeah. Aren’t you dating Futaba?”

Akira can’t keep the surprise off his face. “Futaba? She’s, like, ten. And she’s a girl. In case you couldn’t tell, I’m gay. And, you know, kind of in love with you.”

Goro’s jaw drops, but his face heats up rapidly, so Akira can only assume it’s in a good way. “You-you can’t be in love with me, dumbass! We only met a couple of weeks ago!” He cries.

“Oh? Really? Then why would I do this?” Akira leans over the table Goro gulps, but he doesn’t push Akira away, so he continues.

He nudges his nose against Goro’s, and Goro makes a soft noise in the back of his throat. Pushing down any doubts he might have, Akira presses their lips together.

The kiss in itself is pretty plain. Goro’s lips are too chapped, Akira’s still leaning over a table, and there’s a risk of either Sojiro or a customer barging in on them.

But when Goro smiles into the kiss and grabs ahold of Akira’s collar, Akira knows he will never forget this moment.

::

Later, after Goro’s explained his past, present, and future, and they’ve both cried more than a little, and they’ve kissed so much that Akira’s lips are bruised, Akira will ask, “So, does this mean you like me?”

Goro will groan and pull Akira into yet another kiss. “Do I look like I would ever like anybody?”

Akira will laugh, and he’ll break apart from the kiss to say, “No, I think you look like my boyfriend.”

Goro will blush and try to pretend the line doesn’t work on him, but the two of them know better. After all, Akira will always be his weak spot.

(And maybe that’s okay.)

::

JOKER FROM PHANTOM THIEVES REVEALS WHO HE’S DATING!
by Ohya Ichiko

There are many beloved bachelors who will forever remain every teenage girl’s imaginary sweetheart. Unfortunately, Joker, leader of the Phantom Thieves, is no longer one of them.

In an OHYAPOST exclusive interview, he revealed he already has a lover--and they’ve got a fancy nickname to match!

“Crow is probably one of the best things to ever happen to me,” he told me with a dopey grin on his face. “It’s funny how we got together, actually. But that story will have to wait for another time.”

Well, ladies, at least we have a name.

OTHER ARTICLES FROM Ohya Ichiko:

-”He abused me for years!” Black Mask Tells All About Masayoshi Shido and His Reign of Terror
-Phantom Thieves New Album Titled “CONFIDANT” Beats Countless Records
-Are Panther and Skull Dating? Inside Source Neither Confirms Nor Denies