Archive of Our Own

Goro, more often than not, kept his burner phone safely hidden away in his briefcase, on silent. The seemingly endless amount of unimportant rambling that the re-established Phantom Thieves piled into their group chat grated on his nerves on the best of days. And, now that Okumura had joined, awakening her Persona and unlocking the memories of her dear father’s fate in the last timeline, Goro found himself ignoring almost everything that graced the home screen. After all, he was the leader. He would contact them when he needed, and they could just do whatever on their own.

That would be reckless, though, he reminded himself. You have to keep an eye on what they talk about in there, or they’re bound to do something stupid. Now that Okumura’s heart had been publicly changed, they were officially on Shido’s radar as a genuine threat to his operations, rather than a minor annoyance he could assign to Goro to investigate and take care of however he saw fit. Goro’s primary cell phone had been ringing day and night, and Goro had been subjected to many rage-fueled rants about the Phantom Thieves and the lack of mental shutdown requests (everyone was afraid of becoming the next Okumura, it seemed), and Goro just had to sit and “yes, sir” his way through them.

So, when he found himself wanting to read the inane ramblings of his “teammates” as the early summer days dragged on, he blamed it on the thieves simply being the lesser evil. He didn’t participate beyond what he deemed necessary, of course, but something about reading their messages, grimacing at their endearing little “bits” and jokes at his expense, he almost felt…

Goro glared at his coffee and drank it down quickly. The burn against his tongue was welcome, as adequate punishment for almost letting his thoughts wander into weak territory. He refused to lose to the thieves, and it was clear enough what game they were playing with him. Kitagawa’s insistence on using him for drawing studies. Sakamoto coincidentally changing his cardio-heavy workouts to include more weight-lifting that he just happened to need a spotting partner for. They both were painfully transparent in their attempts to endear themselves to him. Thankfully, Okumura had yet to try anything of the sort, and likely wouldn’t, for obvious reasons. He hated them all and their pathetic attempts to catch him off guard.

“Uh… Akechi-san?”

“Hm?”

Goro looked up from the counter and saw Akira looking at him sheepishly, scratching at the back of his head.

“Is it that bad?”

Is it that bad?

Sakamoto wasn’t as chatty as Goro thought he might be and was good to exercise with. He’d tried to say he understood Goro since he had a shitty dad too, but that was just insulting since Sakamoto’s mom was still alive and happy. Goro hadn’t said that to him, though. It was a rare moment where Goro had no desire to say something hurtful, even to someone as pig-headed as Sakamoto.

Kitagawa was… eccentric, but far from the most bothersome person Goro had met. He’d yet to agree to model nude for him, (nor would he literally ever because what the fuck), but he’d allowed him some simple sketches when they rested in safe rooms. Goro had also, on occasion, given Kitagawa some of his own cut of the Metaverse money they collected. It wasn’t out of the goodness of his heart or anything, though. He couldn’t have Kitagawa passing out in battle on him due to malnourishment. That was all.

Ann was actually pleasant to be around, loathe as he was to admit it even to himself in the privacy of his thoughts. He’d been stupidly vulnerable the first time they’d hung out, making the mistake of telling her about his… complex feelings… for Akira. Ever since, she’d been relentless with her requests to spend time with him, offering up a nauseating amount of support and even confiding in him about her own complex feelings toward her best friend, Shiho. As if he cared about that at all. Goro grimaced to himself and wished silently that Ann would take a hint, since it was clear even from her biased perspective that Shiho liked her back.

It… wasn’t that bad. Having teammates. Being around people.

“Akechi-san?”

“What?” Goro asked. “I… apologize. I’m afraid I got a bit lost in my thoughts.”

“The coffee,” Akira said, gesturing a little towards Goro’s now-empty cup. “Was it that bad? I just… I saw you staring at it, and your face just looked sort-of… irritated. And then you just kind of gulped it down. You usually seem to savor it, though.”

Goro blinked back at him, replaying the short conversation in his mind and feeling a little foolish.

“No, no, it’s fine,” Goro said. “Great, actually. I just have a lot on my mind these days.”

“I can tell,” Akira said. “Just… don’t work yourself too hard, okay? But I’m glad it’s good.” Akira grinned at him, a little bit of his forgotten mischief teasing the side of his smile. “So… is it better than that other guy’s coffee yet?”

The other guy being Akira. From the last time they'd lived through the year. Not that Goro could say that out loud. Nor did he particularly want to, because until this Akira’s coffee was up to par, he could keep conning free coffee out of him due to their silly little bet.

“Not quite,” Goro said, tacking on a charming smile. “Looks like this one is on you.”

“I’m so glad I have those other three part-time jobs…” Akira mumbled under his breath. “Talking to you is worth a lot, it seems.”

“You’re quite the flatterer, Kurusu-kun,” Goro said.

Akira laughed a bit to himself, though Goro could easily identify an edge to it. Akira had been restless lately, always on edge whenever Goro stopped by for coffee. At first, Goro assumed some of Akira’s self-preservation instincts had survived the time-loop, but he dismissed that theory when he remembered that Akira’s self-preservation instincts were basically non-existent. Besides, they had hardly even talked. Goro ordered coffee, Akira would say hello, but never seemed to step beyond his role as a barista, no matter how much Goro tried to prod him into a conversation.

“Hey, I’ve been meaning to ask you,” Akira said, the sentence almost coming out like one, quick jumbled word. “Are you… uh…” Akira coughed into his hand and apparently chose a new approach to his mysterious question. “Would you want to go––”

The store bell cut Akira off mid-sentence as the door was roughly pushed in by the sunny force-of-nature that was Ann Takamaki. Goro could feel exhaustion set into his features. He shouldn’t have mentioned he had been coming to Leblanc for Akira. Akira’s coffee. Leblanc coffee.

“Hiiii!” Ann called, inviting herself fully into the cafe and sliding in the seat next to him. “Wow, Goro. You look awful.”

“Thanks, you look like absolute shit,” he bit back. She stuck out her tongue at him, completely unbothered. Which was fair. Goro probably did look awful, having come to the cafe to collapse after being up and working for thirty-two hours straight, while Ann had likely just retouched all her makeup after a laid-back day at school.

“Are you two friends?” Akira asked.

“I wouldn’t say that,” Goro said.

“Nice to see you, uh, Kurusu-kun!” Ann addressed Akira sloppily. Akira eyed her somewhat warily, taking a step back from the counter, supposedly to find a fortress among the glass jars of coffee beans.

“Takamaki,” Akira regarded her. “Um. I’m going to take my break now. Please don’t burn down the store.” Then he made a hasty retreat, not even remembering to take off his apron. Goro watched him go, as did Ann, who at least had the decency to look apologetic that she’d driven him away.

“Why did he tell me not to burn down the store?” Ann huffed.

“Technically, he addressed both of us.”

“Yes, but Lady Ann would never do something so barbaric! Unlike someone else we know...”

Morgana’s little furry head emerged from Ann’s bag, wearing the smuggest look that a cat could manage.

“Once he's back from the store, I should tell Sakura-san there’s a four-legged health hazard in his place of business,” Goro said.

“Hey! I’m not a health hazard!” Morgana protested. “And I used to live here!”

“Have you been tested for worms?” Goro said, not able to suppress an amused smirk. It was too easy to rile him up.

“N-no! I don’t have worms, though! I’m not a regular cat!”

“I can’t believe Akira just walked out like that,” Ann said, ignoring Morgana’s continued mews for her attention.

“Maybe he’s afraid you were here to ask him out again,” Goro said with an amused snort. “Assuming you aren’t here for that, why are you here? Were you hoping to trap him here?”

Ann rolled her eyes and turned in her seat to fully face him.

“No, not really,” she said. “Well… maybe a little. But it’s clear he doesn’t have any interest in being my friend, so maybe I should just give him space until we figure out… the you-know-what.”

“Mm. That may be wise,” Goro commented.

“Hey, so now that Okumura’s done, are we gonna target Kanoshiro next? We still need to recruit Makoto to the Phantom Thieves and––mmmphhhh!!”

Goro removed his hand from Ann’s mouth after a second, when he was sure she’d taken the hint.

“Not in public. Fucking hell. You’re almost as bad as Ryuji,” Goro hissed.

“He just gets excited,” Ann said. “And why so jumpy? There’s no one around to even hear.”

“Kurusu could walk back in at any point––”

“––not before he sees me leave, I’m guessing,” Ann said. “And I’m seriously asking. Can we get Makoto back? She helped me with my summer work last time.”

“Shouldn’t you know how to do it if you’ve already done it once before?” Goro asked blankly.

“Lady Ann is right! Kaneshiro is taking advantage of students in Shibuya as we speak, so we need to change his heart!”

“Boo-fucking-hoo,” Goro mumbled. “There’s a guy exploiting gullible people for money. That never happens. Clearly, he should be our top priority.”

“You don’t even care?” Morgana screeched at him.

“There are more important things to worry about,” Goro said dryly. “Sure, we could do it just for the practice, but knowing where a lot of his money is going, do you really think it’s a great idea for us to take another hearty swing at the hornet's nest, Takamaki?”

Ann pouted next to him.

“I think you just don’t want Makoto to join.”

“And why would I give a shit?”

“Because you probably think we’ll all make her the new leader.”

“We’re not talking about this in public,” Goro hissed, slamming his fist on the counter. Ann didn’t even flinch. She was annoyingly used to him and his outbursts. She just shrugged in response. “And for the record,” Goro added, voice dropping even lower, “I don’t even like being the stupid leader. If you all want Niijima, that’s none of my concern.”

“Yeah. Okay,” Ann said with a laugh. “I could’ve sworn you used to be better at lying.”

After a minute, Goro’s phone rang. He paused for a second, taking stock of where he was. A few people dotted the sidewalks, but it was eerily quiet, the blanket of the night only broken by the vibrations of the device in his hand. He was about halfway to Okumura’s place.

Knowing he’d have to indulge her, he picked up the phone.

“Akechi-san?”

“Yes. Hello, Okumura.”

“Are you on your way over?”

“I am. I suspect I’ll be there within ten minutes.”

“Ah. That’s good.”

Goro continued walking, listening uncomfortably to the nothingness on the other end of the line. He was in no position to refuse help, especially when he’d swallowed what little pride he’d had left and had asked for it, but he would have preferred to spend the night with any of the others over Okumura. She hated him, and he disliked her a great deal himself. Her misplaced sympathy over the fate of her terrible father felt like nothing less than an insult. Goro just couldn’t understand it. He couldn’t understand her.

“Can I ask you something, Okumura?” Goro found himself saying.

“Sure.” A stiff reply.

“Your father is in prison, wallowing in his own remorse,” Goro said. “Is that… is it truly enough for you? The man has ordered murders. He fully intended to marry you off, or at least sell your body just to advance his business ventures. Do you truly believe someone like that is better left alive? Your ‘betrayal’, as you called it, is more like an undeserved mercy. I cannot fathom that you don’t wish to crush his skull under your heel and grind it into the dirt.”

Okumura was silent on the other end of the line, and for just a moment, Goro felt a spark of fear that he had uninvited himself to the safe haven she was offering him with his callousness.

“... I don’t think anything could be ‘enough’,” Okumura said quietly. “I don’t think anything would be, if I were to set my heart on the path of revenge. Because nothing that’s done to him will fix any of the damage he did to me. I betrayed my father because it was in my best interest and because I wanted him to become a better man.”

“How virtuous,” Goro said, spitting out the words like poison. “Can you truly tell me that not once last timeline, once you were freed from his clutches forever, not once did you ever think to yourself that things were better that way? That he got what he deserved?”

Okumura didn’t respond, but her steady breaths indicated that she hadn’t hung up the phone. Not yet.

“Did you feel that way when I died?” Goro pressed.

“No,” Okumura said. “I felt sick when you died. I even cried for you that night, even when I told myself I had no need to do so.”

Foolish. Disgusting. Goro rolled his eyes. He wondered if she thought that her answer would make him happy.

“May I ask you a question of my own, Akechi-san?” Okumura asked.

“Sure.”

“Do you want Shido to love you? Do you desire to make him proud, even though you despise him?”

Goro’s hand gripped the sides of his phone impossibly tighter, his whole arm trembling with rage. How dare she suggest such a thing? Okumura knew what sort of person Shido was, and even if she’d only ever be able to comprehend the smallest sample of the ocean that was Goro’s hatred for the man, she should understand that no part of him would ever accept any love from Shido, if he was capable of such an emotion.

But… did he still want it?

Looking back on the past, his old plan, and everything that had transpired while he was under Shido’s thumb, Goro puzzled and puzzled over why he had always felt the need to build Shido up to the very top of his power before sending him crashing down to hell with him. For the satisfaction of it? Perhaps. But Shido was already doing quite well for himself without Goro’s help. Hell, Goro wasn’t even the only hitman on his payroll. So, why help him? Why, why, why?

Goro knew the answer. He’d known for a while but had hidden the truth down, down in the depths of his heart, forcing it under so he could kill it before it resurfaced. I decide the truth, he’d told himself. I decide the truth.

“Good work, Akechi,” echoed in his mind. Shido’s praise was hard to come by, but the clarity with which he remembered the words so seldom uttered by his father was evidence enough. Even just conjuring the memory filled his stomach with a twisting amalgamation of pride and shame.

“He doesn’t love anything,” Goro said shortly. He closed his eyes and stopped walking, just for a second, trying to collect himself as he answered. Just be honest. You owe her that much, Detective Prince Akechi chipped in unhelpfully in his head. Oh, that’s right. She said you weren’t even capable of that.

“I…” Goro tried to say something but found any words he tried to spin together caught in the dry barbed wire his throat had turned into.

“Akechi-san? Are you still there?” Okumura asked.

“Yes,” he snapped. “That… that is to say, I am still here.”

“Right,” Okumura said. “Of course.”

“I don’t want his love,” Goro said, pulling each word out like he was extracting a tooth with no novocaine. “But, whenever I get a glimpse of him caring about me… even just valuing what I can do for him… I… I don’t know why. I hate him. I shouldn’t care what he thinks of me. But I’m just too fucking––”

Goro cut himself off, feeling the devil within him scraping against his ribcage, begging to be let free. He took a deep breath. Feeding his anger now would accomplish nothing. It was three in the morning, and he was accepting the help of someone who hated him more than anyone else in the world.

“...I’m glad to know that you can be honest, after all,” Okumura said.

“You’re saying that you relate,” Goro said.

“Yes,” Okumura said. “Though I have to say, I think both of us are on paths that will lead to us becoming people our fathers would never be proud of. Changes of heart aside, of course.”

“True,” Goro said. “And I take it that’s a good thing?”

“It’s a very good thing.”