Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

"So. How long have you been hiding this?"

Ren slides his gaze up to meet Akechi's. His brain is stuffed with cotton. He can feel a wayward petal between his lips; it didn't join the blood speckled ones on the table.

"You look terrible." Not waiting for an answer, Akechi continues on. He paces back and forth, maybe thinking or maybe stressed, but he always keeps his eyes on Ren. "And if you're coughing up this much blood... Did you really think you could just ignore it and it'd go away on its own? You're dying, Amamiya."

Violent coughs rip themselves from Ren's throat, as if his body hoped to prove Akechi's point. Then, petals again, and blood on his hand from his attempts to smother them.

Akechi steps towards him. He casts a harsh shadow, and Ren can't see his face anymore.

"What about your dear, dear friends? I assume you didn't tell them? Were you trying to keep up appearances as their strong, resolute leader?" Akechi shakes his head. "If only they could see you now. Don't you get it? It was all for nothing. You should have removed those worthless flowers. Now they're killing you."

Something rattles in Ren's chest; he can feel blood in his lungs, and the pain of those dreadful roots. Akechi's right, he knows it. And yet, reaching out for help simply never occurred to Ren. He hoped to hide his feelings until he died. It looks like that will happen sooner than he thought.

Akechi's gun glints mercilessly. As if standing outside his own body, Ren can only watch as that gun is raised to his temple.

"I'm here to kill you," Akechi says in a dull voice. "But what's the point? I could just leave you here and you'd drown in your own blood."

He could. The pain is growing worse and worse. It occurs to Ren, a cold thought, that he really will die here regardless of whether Akechi pulls the trigger."I thought you were better than this. I thought you were my equal. But look at you. You're pathetic."

"S-sorry," Ren wheezes, chest squeezing tight. Akechi tilts his head. "I'm sorry I... wasn't better."

Then Ren retches, and far too much blood spills from his mouth.

"...Oh for fuck's sake," Akechi mutters. "Fine. Fine! It doesn't matter anymore." He turns sharply and marches to the door. Ren stares, blood still bubbling at his lips.

"I'll be back. Try not to die." And Akechi slams the door behind him.

Time passes. Minutes, maybe tens of them. Everything feels like liquid, blood loss and the interrogators' drugs creating a terrible combination for his addled mind. He tries to wonder why Akechi didn't kill him, but his capability for logical thought is fuzzy at the moment. His thoughts drift to his friends, and he remembers, 'Oh yeah, we had a plan!' He grips the table to stop himself from passing out.

The plan failed. He couldn't give Sae his phone, mostly because Ren spent the majority of their time together coughing up his lungs. And then Akechi... didn't shoot him.

The door opens again, and Akechi glowers at him.

"Good news. You're officially dead," he tells Ren. His face is cold. "Make sure you and your friends keep your heads down, stay out of my way, and I won't have to kill you. Understand?"

"Wah...?" Ren says smartly, tasting dry and fresh blood in his mouth.

"...But first, you need urgent care. Otherwise I doubt you'll last through the night." Akechi taps his phone, and Ren feels a brief dizziness: the pull of the Metaverse. Is Akechi taking him into Sae's Palace? He throws him a confused look, as Akechi walks around the table and yanks Ren to his unsteady feet.

Cool air against his sore, bloody throat sparks another coughing fit. The petals don’t flutter anymore, too drenched in red, simply hitting the ground like lumps of flesh.

“Akechi,” Ren wheezes. He sees Akechi slow to a halt without turning around. “Wh… Why did you s-save me?” 

Akechi looks back at him with hard eyes.

“I didn’t ‘save’ you,” he growls. Ren’s breath catches. “This isn’t mercy, either. I walked in that room with every intention of killing you, Amamiya.

“But you… didn’t.”

It takes a moment for Akechi to respond—though said response is to huff and continue his march forward. Ren trails after him, bewildered, hunched over in his effort to stop himself from coughing again.

“I was going to defeat you,” Akechi says, still walking. “You, the only one who could exceed me. I was going to prove I was superior. But when I walked in there, what did I see? A weak, dying mess who let his feelings get the better of him” Akechi’s voice turns harsh. “There would be nothing satisfying about killing you.”

What can Ren say to that? That Ren didn’t want to let go of his feelings? That he didn’t want to seem weak? That it’s kind of fucked up Akechi was going to feel satisfied with Ren’s death, if his pathetic state hadn’t been so annoying? He doesn’t know, he just doesn’t know, and his brain is still too fogged up to make sense of anything.

They must have neared the main distortions of Sae’s palace, because Akechi’s prince-like outfit appears in a burst of blue flames. He stops to look at Ren; it occurs to him that his own phantom thief clothes haven’t manifested. 

“Amazing,” Akechi says with a dry laugh. “Even the metaverse can’t see you as a threat now.”

Ren wants to retort, but he chokes up another clump of petals. He coughs again, and again, and again—it doesn’t stop, and his knees hit the concrete. 

“Amamiya. Amamiya, hey!” Akechi’s at his side, shaking him, maybe. All Ren can do is gasp between gore and flowers. Idly, he wonders what will happen to all this blood. Will it be left in the Metaverse forever? Or will someone clean it? He imagines a shadow dressed up as a janitor, and despite everything he nearly giggles.

“We won’t make it to the hospital,” he hears Akechi say. “Shit. Are you really going to die here ?”

Ren tries responding, wants to reassure him. The pain in my chest isn’t even that bad anymore! But he’s starting to feel numb all over, so that’s not really a good thing.

“What am I supposed to do? My Persona doesn’t have healing skills,” Akechi says bitterly. “It knows samarecarm, but that’s useless unless you’re already—”

Then Akechi pauses. He looks at Ren with a strange expression.

“A… Akechi..?”

“Well, beggars can’t be choosers,” Akechi sighs, and he removes his mask. Robin Hood appears behind him.

Ren doesn’t have time to ask what he means. There’s a blinding light, followed by something searing through his body, as if it’s trying to burn his soul to cinders. The sun engulfs him for that one second, and—

…

…

Ren jolts and gasps, as if he’d fallen back into his own body. 

“What the hell ,” he says, and is struck by how easily the words come and the energy coursing through him, as if he’d drunk five cups of coffee. Even his phantom thief outfit has returned. It’s such a stark contrast from how he was seconds ago that he feels lightheaded.

“It worked,” Akechi says, like he didn’t bring Ren back from death’s door. “Wonderful.”

“You killed me?”

“Of course. What other option did I have?” Adjusting his gloves. Akechi stands to his full height. “The flowers are still in your lungs. All I really did was stop the bleeding, for now,” he tells Ren. “You need proper treatment. Get yourself to a hospital—ah, but you’re supposed to be ‘dead’ right now, hm? Well, find a doctor who can keep a secret.”

Ren can only blink at him.

“I don’t care what you do,” Akechi says in a low voice, “As long as you stay out of my way. I won’t spare you next time, Joker. So, goodbye. I hope we don’t meet again.”

He turns and begins to leave.

And Ren walks after him.

“...What are you doing?”

“You said you don’t care what I do,” Ren tells him. He can still feel the tightness in his chest, the flowers blooming, but they haven’t cut into his flesh yet.

“Yes, I did. As long as you stay out of my way. ” Akechi’s voice is icy.

“I’m not in your way. I’m behind you.”

“Are you a goddamn child?!” Taking in a deep breath, Akechi seems to calm himself before speaking again. “I don’t know what you want from me, but I don’t want anything to do with you. Get it? Go back to your friends. Leave me alone.”

“I don’t want to leave you.” 

The words escape his lips before he even realises it. Akechi stares at him, really truly understands something, and falters.

“...Well, look how that turned out for you,” Akechi mutters. “Fine. Follow me like some lovesick fool. I don’t care.”

Ren does just that.

Chapter Text

How many times has Ren daydreamed about Akechi’s home? He used to imagine a big mansion, other times a tiny apartment. In that made-up room, he saw a collection of old detective novels and movies, and quaint furniture arranged to perfectly catch the afternoon sun. Maybe even a plant or two.

But that’s a home for the ‘detective prince.’ What about the real Akechi? Ren had wondered this, too, after hearing that phone call where Akechi so casually planned his death. And then Ren could only picture a house full of blood and whispers. 

(The flowers never withered.)

Of course, reality is different from his little daydreams, but still… odd. Akechi takes him to an apartment complex in a good part of Tokyo. Each apartment clearly has enough space for a family. But when Akechi leads him inside, Ren can’t help but stare. It’s so clean. Some basic furniture is spread about, but it feels more like a display house than an actual home. The only signs that Akechi really lives here are a few used dishes in the sink.

And now Ren’s standing here, in Akechi’s apartment, feeling like moss in the desert. It’s not like he has a gameplan. Akechi himself looks uncertain, staring at Ren as if he’s a stray cat that found his way inside.

Horribly awkward, Ren glances towards a clock on the wall. It’s late. Extremely late. 

“Oh,” he says, blinking. “I missed the last train, huh.” 

“You only just realised that?” Akechi sounds exasperated. It’d be funny in any other situation. “...I don’t know why I’m surprised. If you used your brain in any capacity, you wouldn’t have nearly choked to death on flowers.”

Ren chooses to ignore that last comment. He looks at Akechi firmly and says, “I want to call my friends. I need to let them know I’m alive.”

He’s not quite sure how he expected Akechi to react. Point-blank refusal? Throwing him out and telling him to go find a payphone? Instead, however, Akechi takes Ren’s own phone from his pocket and tosses it across the room. Ren scrambles to catch it in a clumsy move. He wonders if Akechi retrieved his phone from the interrogation room while Ren’s brain was fogged up.

He nods to Akechi as a quick ‘thank you.’ Rather than respond, Akechi turns and walks through a doorway and out of Ren’s sight. 

His conversation with his friends is awkward to say the least. Futaba is close to tears, and he hears the alarmed voices of his fellow Phantom Thieves in the background. The phone is passed between each friend, so that Ren can explain himself to everyone. Their reactions vary from relief and shock to worried anger, asking where the hell he is.

"I'm in a safe place," Ren tells them vaguely. He hears Akechi scoff from somewhere behind him. "Don't worry. I'll come home tomorrow."

They object, of course, raising perfectly reasonable points about wanting to see him after they thought he was dead. Can't he at least tell them where he's staying? And he should tell them. He really should. But he knows that the moment his friends learn he’s with Akechi, they’ll drag him back to Leblanc without hesitation.

Ren doesn't want to leave just yet.

Once he ends the call, Akechi returns: maybe he was waiting for Ren to finish out of courtesy. He's holding a towel and what looks like a set of plain pajamas.

"You look terrible," Akechi says, an edge to his voice. He shoves the towel and pajamas into Ren's arms. "You can use the bath. Just drop your clothes by the door."

Akechi's voice leaves little room for arguments, so Ren ducks his head as a nod. For a moment, it looks like Akechi wants to say something else, suddenly hesitant. His scowl returns too quickly, however; instead he mutters, "The shampoo is expensive. Don't use too much," as he points Ren towards the bathroom. Something in Ren's heart flutters.

The bathroom is as devoid of personality as the rest of the apartment, though a little more dusty. There's a bath with a shower head attached, all sleek and modern, a white colour matching with the tiles on the wall. The most notable splash of colour comes from the citrus scented soap bar by the sink. 

Ren checks his reflection in the mirror, but he immediately turns his head away. Akechi was right: he looks terrible. The bruises from his interrogation have faded thanks to the impromptu samarecarm, but echoes of them still linger on his skin. His face is pale aside from the dark circles under his eyes, and his lips are dry and chapped. Perhaps worst of all, his clothes are stained with blood and clumps of withered flower petals. Ren can't decide if he looks like a murderer or someone who escaped a murderer. 

He peels his clothes off and drops them in a pile on the floor. Though he's exhausted, he thoroughly scrubs at his skin and before he lets himself step in the bath. He eyes the 'expensive' shampoo Akechi warned him about—it just looks like ordinary shampoo in a sleek bottle. How is it any better than a cheap brand from the convenience store?

(It smells of honey. He wonders if Akechi's hair smells the same way.)

(...Then he wonders if that was a creepy thought.)

Ren doesn't know how long he sits in the tub, staring at the ceiling; he supposes he should be relaxing, but he feels strangely boneless, like he's watching from behind his own mind.

Oddly, the scent of something tasty finds its way to him from the other room. Ren's stomach cramps—he's starving, he realises. His last meal feels like a lifetime ago. 

Hungry and curious, Ren leaves the bathtub, dries himself off, and puts on the borrowed pajamas. They fit quite well, a nice cream colour—then he remembers they belong to Akechi, and he's suddenly too flustered to look at his reflection. He keeps his head down even as he opens the bathroom door, towel around his shoulders

He finds Akechi in the kitchen area, arms folded and face drawn into a tight scowl. Is he thinking about something? Before Ren can say anything, Akechi looks up and blinks, as if only just noticing him there.

“You look a little less awful,” Akechi says, turning to the cupboards behind him and setting down two plates.

“...Thanks. What are you doing?”

“Well, since you plan to impose on me tonight, I thought I might as well play the host and prepare dinner.” Akechi glances at Ren. “...Don’t expect anything fancy: I just threw some pizza in the microwave.”

This situation is already so surreal, so the contrast between the detective prince Akechi and a frozen pizza adds an extra layer of strangeness. Ren snorts, quickly covering his smile when Akechi glares at him.

Once the microwave stops, they both take a few slices of pizza and carry them to the sitting area. Akechi, in one languid motion, switches on the television. A news report shatters the silence.

“...after the suicide of the Phantom Thieves’ leader in police custody.”

Ren watches the screen, biting into a slice of pizza; it has the texture of cardboard. 

“They really think I’m dead, huh?”

“They do,” Akechi responds. He hasn’t touched his food. “I’ve done you quite the favour, you know. You’re still alive despite my orders. And now, you’re free. You and your friends can lie low or even skip town for all I care—as long as you put an end to your self-righteous, public displays of ‘justice,’ I won‘t have a reason to go after you.”

Something gets stuck in Ren's throat.

“...So, do you treat all your targets to a quality meal like this?”

“I’d say you’re just special,” says Akechi, “But I’m sure that would go straight to your head.” He leans back, an exhausted expression on his face, the television droning on and on about Ren’s supposed death. “I’m serious, Amamiya. If you continue as a phantom thief, I will kill you.”

What can he say to that?

“I know you’re the Black Mask,” Ren says dumbly.

Akechi sighs.

“I assumed as much. The fact I pointed a gun at you should have prompted at least one question, and yet you were more shocked that I let you live.” His eyes fix on Ren’s face, who decides this is the perfect time to take a slow, awkward bite of pizza. “So, tell me. What gave me away?” 

Ren decides just then to avoid any mention of pancakes. That would definitely irritate Akechi, and possibly lead to him kicking Ren out of his apartment—or worse, reaching for an impromptu weapon. He tries to think of an answer that would be more palatable.

“...We thought it was too perfect,” Ren finally says. “You suddenly wanted to help us right when we needed it the most. So, we… did some research. Just to make sure you were being genuine.”

Which you weren’t, he nearly adds.

“...Hm. And what research was that, exactly?”

Ren grins, hoping it doesn’t betray how his stomach is twisting. 

“Sorry, Akechi. I need to keep some secrets.”

Akechi laughs at that, a short, sharp noise, but it eases some of the tension in Ren’s shoulders.

“Over-confident even now… I suppose I shouldn’t have expected any less. And yet, you…” A shadow passes over Akechi’s face, dispelling any warmth that tried to take hold. “You know what I’ve done. You know everything. So, why? Why are those wretched flowers still devastating your lungs?”

“I, um… I’ve always liked bad boys?”

This time, Akechi doesn’t laugh. He’s staring ahead with a stony expression, no longer paying attention to Ren, or the news broadcast, or anything. Ren can’t bring himself to break the silence between them, so the television continues uninterrupted, and the would-be murderer and would-be victim finish off their dinners.