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Sho slumped into his seat, metal chair rocking backwards with his sudden weight. He wiped the sweat from his brow and ran his fingers through his hair, tousling his bangs. Training today had felt like one of Ikutsuki’s endurance tests; the thrill of fighting and the adrenaline that came with it were a welcome change of pace compared to quiet civilian life, but he felt a little out of practice. He could always go for a battle, and it wasn’t like he was too exhausted after the day was done. The ache in his bones felt rewarding, if anything.
In his boredom, he pressed the toes of his sneakers to the ground and leaned back, lifting his chair onto its hind legs. The room was dreadfully quiet, and the lack of any white noise irked Sho more than he would have liked to admit. Ever since he joined the Shadow Operatives last year and began fraternizing with its members, he had grown to hate silence; it made him feel restless and itch to fill the empty air. It was certainly a far cry from six years ago where his desire for solitude nearly plunged the world into eternal silence.
You’ve grown, Minazuki said reassuringly, his voice tinged with a sense of pride. He paused for a moment before adding, the boy in front of you, however...
Sho continued to teeter precariously in his chair, crossing his arms against his chest. While he knew Akechi still needed a similar push, he didn’t particularly feel like starting a conversation. Despite his reluctance, the silence continued to bother him; it seemed to dig under his skin and take refuge there like a man exiled a long way from home. Surely it was a waste of time to forgo an opportunity to uncover more information on the former detective. After a lengthy moment of contemplation, he decided to evaluate the kid sitting in the chair across from him.
Akechi was a few years younger than him, regardless of how old he attempted to act. His brown hair was cropped slightly above his ears, but his bangs did nothing to cover the poorly-concealed wrath in his garnet eyes. For today’s training, he wore a white collared shirt, black slacks, dark loafers, and the leather gloves he would rarely take off. Sho could count the amount of times he had seen Akechi without his gloves on a single hand, and considering he had known the kid for three and a half weeks now, it was certainly an oddity. Minazuki was more curious about it than Sho was, and he constantly prodded Sho to ask about the matter at... hand.
Sho’s lips quirked up at his incidental pun, and Akechi’s interested gaze flicked over to him in an instant. “Just thought of something funny,” he answered the unsaid question, shaking his head slightly. Fidgeting for a moment, he steeled himself and decided to broach the topic he had been carefully avoiding for the past few weeks. “Say… your dad was also working with Ergo, right?”
Akechi’s eyes widened slightly in surprise, caught off guard by the sudden question. He seemed to stiffen, and Sho had a feeling that the boy’s thoughts were probably in tumult. The former detective tended to get lost in his head, often during conversations, and certainly a topic like this would send him into an introspective spiral.
“Asking you questions is pointless,” Sho grumbled, mostly to himself. With a roll of his eyes, he said, “I know he did, so don’t answer that.” He eased the front legs of his chair to the ground and dropped the nonchalant tone he had been feigning. “So. What was that like?”
Sho watched the pinch of Akechi's face - the slight scrunch of his nose, the way his eyebrows sloped downwards - and frowned when the former detective smoothed out his expression a moment later. "I wasn't told the name at first," Akechi answered calmly, or at least with the caricature of calmness. His fingers twitched underneath the leather of his gloves before freezing in his lap. "I was simply ushered into a room, strapped down, and well." He offered Sho a knowing look, "I'm certain you're familiar with the rest."
"S'like lookin' in a mirror, kid," he answered earnestly, shutting his eyes for a moment. Akechi was a lot older than Sho had been at the beginning of his experimentation, but the feeling of kin was still there. He opened his eyes again with an exhaled laugh. "Shitty dads aren't really original."
"Ikutsuki adopted you, didn't he?" Akechi asked somewhat abruptly, and Sho bristled at the question.
"I wouldn't use the word adopted," he grumbled, annoyance underlying his words. He freed a hand, motioning lazily as he talked. "He picked me off the streets or some shit. I don't really remember. I must’ve been like four or five."
The former detective hummed, tilting his head slightly back to examine the ceiling above Sho. "Did you even remember the outside world then?" he asked, curiosity belying his neutral tone.
No, was Sho's initial thought, but he pushed the thought aside. "You sure have a lotta questions today," he remarked jovially, forcing a small smile.
"You know my entire backstory," Akechi rebutted, allowing the smallest flicker of frustration into his voice.
While that was true, irritation rose in Sho's gut - and Minazuki coolly interjected, Let the boy ask his questions.
Sho bit back a complaint. Weren't they not supposed to mouth off about their past? He had already talked enough and - ugh. Too many self-imposed rules and too many unnecessary exceptions. And to add the fucking cherry on top, all these thoughts about rules reminded him of the other shitty detective he had the displeasure of "working" with. Ugh.
"Alright, whatever," he grumbled, slotting his hand under the arm already crossed against his chest. "Guess it's Sho and tell time."
That’s a new one, Minazuki said with a small hint of amusement, but Sho could sense the beginning of a mockery there. His face soured, irritation bubbling to the surface; his puns were not lame, and he didn’t need the guy living in his head offering his commentary.
“I’m assuming Minazuki didn’t like that one,” Akechi commented mildly, and Sho’s eyes flicked back to his companion.
“None of you have a sense of humor,” he said with a groan, leaning back in his chair. “Scrap’s learning, at least, but the rest of you are all the same.”
“Splendid,” the former detective deadpanned, his expression flat. “Back to the matter at hand.” He paused, raising an eyebrow. “Your father?”
“Piece a’ shit,” Sho scoffed with a roll of his eyes. “Picked me off the streets, made me into his personal lab rat, and died before I could put him in his grave myself.” He leaned back further, his eyes locked on the ceiling. His chest felt tight. “The other guy tried to kill Dad, and that ended with me in a coma and waking up when he was already dead for a year. Because losing a few years of my life dead asleep wasn’t bad enough, I couldn’t even be the one to off that bastard for what he did to me.”
For a long moment, Akechi failed to respond. Sho mused that the brunette had fallen asleep or hightailed it and ran, but he sadly knew the former detective better than that. He was probably entrenched in thought, unconsciously moving a hand to his chin like he did when he was the Detective Prince a lifetime ago. Sho leaned forward, easing his chair back to the floor-
“You spent your entire childhood in that laboratory,” Akechi observed, his hand on his chin like Sho had expected, “and then spent a few years in a coma on top of that?”
Sho shut an eye, scratching irritably at his hair. He could sense Minazuki’s admonishment at the edges of his consciousness, so he dropped his arm to hang over the back of his chair with a disgruntled sigh. “Weren’t ya listening?” he grumbled, unable to completely mask his annoyance. Akechi sure knew how to get on his nerves with his detective intuition or whatever the fuck he was on about.
“Yes,” Akechi answered, most likely restraining an eyeroll of his own. “I… suppose I am just considering how substantial of a time frame that was for you.” He breathed a sigh, moving his gaze downcast. “When you woke up, you were…”
“Fifteen,” Sho filled in with a slight frown. “At least, I think I was. Dad never told me how old I was or when my birthday was either so… kinda been guessing this entire time.”
“Minazuki said you were turning twenty-three soon when I first met you,” Akechi continued, dropping his hand from his chin and resting it on his lap.
“News to me,” Sho said sarcastically. It wasn’t like he particularly cared for specific dates and birthdays and all that sentimental crap. Not at all. “I’m definitely a few years older than you, at least. And about the same age as the Investigation brats. Probably.”
Akechi shifted in his seat, putting his hands against his lap and pushing to crack his back. Once he was done, he lifted his gaze to Sho. “I don’t suppose your father kept records of his test subjects?” he offered with a small crooked smile. It was a far cry from the perfect television ones that Sho had been shown back in November when he was sent to hunt the kid down. Now, he looked more human and less like a cardboard print-out of a real person.
“He might’ve, I dunno.” He shrugged, tilting his chair back a little. “I think he was more interested in what I could do rather than how old I was.” And maybe it was slightly bitter when he added, “I don’t think anything else really mattered to him.”
The brunette hummed a note of acknowledgement. “My…” he struggled to find the right word, finally settling with, “father.” He swallowed past the lump in his throat before saying, “He was the same way.”
“I fuckin’ bet,” Sho huffed. “Dude made you into his own personal hitman when you were like-”
“Fifteen,” Akechi answered in an echo of Sho’s earlier admission, “I killed Isshiki when I was fifteen.”
“You started kinda late,” Sho commented with a smile tinted with pride. “I think my first kill was when I was… uh,” he scratched idly at his neck, “six or seven? Year’s kinda escaping me.”
Shifting his gaze to his lap, Akechi began with great difficulty, “Would… Would you do it again?”
Sho raised an eyebrow, despite it being hidden behind his bangs. The boy sounded so tentative, as if he was expecting to get struck down for asking the question. What happened to his previous bravado and snarkiness? It was like the fifteen year old Akechi - fresh from the kill with trembling hands and an empty gun - had been swapped in.
“Technically speaking,” Sho said, feigning mirth, “I wouldn’t really have a choice if I was back at the lab. Dad would have thrown me out-” earlier than he actually had - “and he would have picked a new kid to mold.”
“Perhaps I should rephrase my question,” Akechi said hurriedly, bringing his eyes up to meet Sho. “If you had a choice and were put back into that situation. Would you do it again?”
As Sho thought over his answer, Minazuki’s presence in the back of his head seemed to shift. I’m certain he’s deflecting, he commented quietly, as if to not surprise Sho. Even if you had a choice, any disobeyal would have ended poorly for you. The boy is certainly-
“I would,” Sho answered, cutting off the remainder of Minazuki’s deduction, “and I know you would too.”
A slight edge slipping into his voice, Akechi asked, “And why is that?”
One corner of Sho’s lips quirked upward and he cocked his head to the side, just a little. “I wanted to see my old man smile,” he admitted with a small laugh, “and I’m sure your reason isn’t much different.”
Akechi fell silent, fingers of his left hand tightening around his right. It might have been attributed to the artificial lighting of the overhead lights, but Sho noticed that his gloves seemed to be different shades of black.
“You probably wanted revenge or some shit like that,” Sho continued, gesturing lazily with his hand as he talked, “and you probably hated the bastard, too. But he was still your dad, as crappy as it is.” Seeing the way Akechi’s eyes widened at his observation, Sho’s smile grew. “Looks like I hit the bullseye.”
“I…” Akechi’s hands balled into fists, and his face pinched with frustration, “cannot deny that claim, as revolting as it is.”
“Thought so,” Sho sighed, dropping his hand to his lap. The more he learned about Akechi, the more painstakingly obvious their similarities became. Jokingly, he added, “I don’t suppose you were also manipulated by a malevolent god to destroy the world?”
Akechi’s lips faltered into a frown; his voice was heavy, and his words carried a certain weight to them. “I was informed by the Phantom Thieves that I had been a pawn to the God of Control, even if I was unaware of my circumstances at the time.” His eyes narrowed, determination flaring in his tone, “I had been manipulated by Shido, by Yaldabaoth, by Maruki-”
“Ugh, shut up,” Sho grumbled, moving his hands to cover his ears. Akechi stopped abruptly, his face shifting into surprise. “You've gotta be shitting me. I didn’t need another reason to think we’re the same person, you asshole.”
Almost teasingly, Akechi’s expression morphed into a smirk. “I don’t suppose you have a rival?”
And when images of the former Investigation Team’s leader flooded his mind, Sho pressed his face into his hands with a loud groan.
“You have been forming and strengthening your bonds quite well, as of late,” Margaret commented, pride belying her usual neutral voice. From her seat on the chair across from him, she clamped her giant book shut. “Akechi Goro is quite the enigma, now isn’t he?”
Minazuki leaned forward in his seat on the bed, pressing his hands against the firm material of the mattress. It was a perfect replica of the boy’s bed back in the lab, despite the added blue hues indicative of the Velvet Room. “He is… a mystery we are still unraveling,” he admitted with great difficulty.
Truthfully, he was unhappy with how slow the process was going. The former detective had the tendency to either keep his secrets close to his chest or spill his entire life story - and Akechi’s volatility was growing to be irritating. Regardless, despite his qualms, Minazuki was no stranger to patience. They were quite far along with their Social Link, as Margaret was insistent on calling them.
“The truth will be revealed in time,” she said cryptically, wearing a small smile. “Some bonds take a lifetime to form and grow.”
Images of the remaining members of SEES and the former Investigation Team flashed through his mind, an ugly emotion churning in the pit of his stomach, and Minazuki’s fingers tightened around the edge of the mattress. “I suppose they do.”