Chapter Text
Goro really should make better life choices.
Standing with one foot on the remains of a defeated shadow, Goro watches as Kurusu from the other side of the room tries to feed a Pyro Jack some fried pumpkin slices.
Hovering next to him, Loki hums, low and guttural, prompting Goro to Kurusu should the shadow try attacking him. Goro, however, is obliged to watch instead. Kurusu’s not completely useless even if he didn’t have a Persona, and Goro knows Loki can reach there quick enough before the shadow can so much as touch Kurusu. Besides, if Kurusu couldn’t even defend himself, Goro saw no point in dragging the other all the way through Mementos.
So he and Loki watch, both exasperated and very much used to it, as Kurusu tries to get the Pyro Jack to widen its already gaping jaws. That is, until the Pyro Jack decides to try biting off Kurusu’s head along with the snack, unhinging its jaws unbelievably wide, ready to snap his neck.
Goro starts towards him, but Loki wasted no time, darting forwards, instantly cutting the shadow into half, reducing it into another pile of ashes, even stomping on it for good measure.
Kurusu’s eyes widened at the sudden movement, but he immediately slumped after noticing what was left of his previous attempt of getting the shadow to cannibalize itself. (Were Pyro Jacks even actual pumpkins? Goro didn’t know, and he didn’t intend to.) Kurusu then turns over to him, and even has the gall to look annoyed , putting both hands on his hips.
If there was anyone who was annoyed, it would be Goro, and rightfully so, having spent way too much time in the Metaverse due to Kurusu and his shenanigans. But Kurusu is sadly a little too well-versed in the art of bullshitting himself out of any situation, and any time arguing would as well be lost time.
Goro tromps over to an indignant Kurusu and a very satisfied-looking Loki.
“Let’s just go,” he says just as Kurusu opens his mouth. He continues impatiently, “We’re wasting time.”
Thankfully Kurusu says nothing else, and instead closes his mouth in an undignified sort of way, and brushes his fingers against Goro’s.
A shiver ran up his spine at the touch. It's been more than a month ever since Kurusu’s been doing that, yet there’s still a few hints of embarrassment that linger whenever Kurusu touches him. But he’s rewarded with the same welcoming warmth that rushes over him whenever they come into contact with each other, both rejuvenating and mortifying at the same time.
“I won’t question why the pumpkin slices.” Goro deadpans, shoving his thoughts away, “but please do be mindful of your own safety.”
Kurusu smirks at him, intertwining their fingers together. “Why should I? After all, I’ve got you to protect me.” And he might’ve even added a wink, but Goro can barely see anything from behind the thick lens of his glasses.
Goro responds by throwing Kurusu’s hand off. Instantly exhaustion washes over him, and the scrapes he’d received from the battle against the shadows start to throb, but today he refuses to comply and play along with Kurusu.
“Akechiiiii,” whines Kurusu, like the kid he was.
Though Goro himself isn’t exactly certain why Kurusu somehow has the uncanny ability to amplify his Personas, he isn’t sure if this is something mutually exclusive to Kurusu, or whether other Persona users would attain the same benefits when Kurusu was there, but testing out his hypothesis would be rather embarrassing, if not messy.
It was already bad enough that Kurusu knew he was Crow, the vigilante behind the mental shutdowns, and testing his hypothesis would mean having more people to keep tabs on.
Besides, who was he to turn down a gift horse in the mouth? With Kurusu, palaces that once took him a few weeks to complete easily took him days at most. Both Loki and Robin seemed to put up with Kurusu as well, and they were quick to protect Kurusu if things went wrong, so their teamwork wasn’t a predicament.
But ‘put up’ is an understatement and at the rate they were going Kurusu’s just stringing the three of them along with him and his tomfoolery. And, Goro realizes with a growing horror as Kurusu holds his hand and grins at him sheepishly, they just might be okay with that.
Before he can come to any more unfortunate conclusions today, Goro flips open his phone, selecting the app to exit the Metaverse. A swirl of colors, red and black, and the world transforms back into its original state. The duo appear back into the alleyway they had chosen to enter the Metaverse in.
“Good work today.” Kurusu chirps, ever so eager to offer praise.
Goro had reacted slower than usual, distracted by the upcoming midterms more, and as a result had gotten more scrapes and bruises than normal. He hates how Robin Hood still perks up at the praise, and how Loki gives a rumble of delight. “Don’t bother with the compliments,” he growls. “We both know how badly the infiltration went.” He walks out of the alleyway, not bothering to check if Kurusu had followed.
“When are we going to send Kamoshida the letter, anyway?” Kurusu asks, trailing behind him like a lost puppy, leftover pumpkin slices in one hand, mask in another.
Ah, yes. The both of them had made it somewhat of a tradition of sending out letters to their victims before killing their shadows. Before Kurusu, Goro never did send any letters to his victims, preferring to kill before the target perceived him as a threat, increasing the security level of the Palace.
It was a shame, really. It had been so much easier to breeze through palaces with low security levels. But Kurusu had convinced him the ideal scenario would be one that required the least work to do, meaning the repentance of the Palace ruler before things had to get messy, one where there was no Palace to infiltrate.
So now he sent letters and notes to his targets before infiltrating their Palaces. Many criminals had wisely given up on their distorted desires, leading slightly cleaner lives, spending the rest of their days either apologizing to those they had wronged or stopping crime completely, even without Goro needing to lift so much as a finger.
And if they didn’t, well, then Loki could have his fun by ripping their shadows out in the Metaverse. Either way, it was a win-win for Goro, and this was a scenario easily achieved with Kurusu and his peculiar amplification capabilities, as even if security levels were maxed, it was always easier when he was around.
Goro taps a finger to his chin thoughtfully, inwardly conjuring up a mental map of what they knew about Kamoshida’s palace. “I’d say about one more day?” He offers. “Most probably tomorrow.” Even if he had Kurusu with him, it never hurt to be more cautious.
“Want a pumpkin?” Kurusu waves the already half-eaten slice at him, and Goro makes a face.
“No thank you.” He says curtly. Who knows the places Kurusu had been to, and whether his hands were even clean after their adventure in the Metaverse. “I bet you didn’t even wash your hands.”
Now it was Kurusu’s turn to make a face. “What, you do that? It’s the sort of thing the teachers try training you up for in kindergarten.” He nibbles delicately at the snack in between his fingers, and Goro tries not to cringe when he sees the dirt underneath his fingernails. He privately thinks to himself the Pyro Jack made the right decision not to eat it. “I bet you were a real teacher’s pet back then.”
Goro flashes Kurusu his most plastic smile. “You’re going to drop your snack. Don’t come begging for another packet when you do.”
Ignoring him, Kurusu brings up another question. “So, when are you finally going to introduce me to your mom? I’ve been asking for ages, and you’ve never really given me a direct answer.”
At that, Goro falters in his footsteps.
Goro would do anything in his power to ensure the two never met. One look at Kurusu, and his mother would surely tease him relentlessly and Goro would never live to hear the end of it of how Kurusu bore a resemblance to a certain detective prince--
No. Absolutely not.
Goro reddened.
“Akechi?” Kurusu stares at him curiously. A slow smirk starts making its way across his face. “Are you blushing ?”
“I am not,” Goro snaps, because Kurusu and his celebrity crush looked nothing alike. “And didn’t you say you have tasks to complete this afternoon?”
Kurusu gives him one last amused look, but to his credit, doesn’t push. “Yep.” He shifts his bag. “I’m most probably already late, so I’ll be leaving now.” He doesn’t look very worried for someone who’s late.
“In that case, I suppose we’ll be heading out separate ways here, then.” Goro says, checking the time on his phone, ensuring that it wasn’t too late after five-- his mother had attempted to call the police once after a fight with a shadow that had taken him way too long.
It was 4:39. His house was a good ten minute walk away from their current location, but Goro figured he’d probably best hurry.
“Yep.” Kurusu nodded, his dark curls bouncing up and down. “See you tomorrow?”
“See you tomorrow.” Goro doesn’t bother checking if Kurusu leaves before walking away.
It appeared that the gods or whatever higher being above wanted to punish (or reward?) him today, because when he got back home Ren Amamiya was airing on television.
“Goro!” His mother, on the couch, turns and looks at him. “The handsome detective prince’s on TV! You know, the one that you like!”
Goro coughed, flushing a little at the loud exclamation. “His name is Ren Amamiya.” He mutters, although his mother probably already knows that and is just tormenting him. He silently curses his past self for ever thinking it was a good idea for confiding in her.
He shoots a glance at the TV.
Sure enough, there, in all his glory was Ren Amamiya.
To be frank, Goro himself isn’t sure when he’d developed something as trivial as a crush on anyone, much less a celebrity.
Although, relatively speaking, Amamiya was rather attractive, eyes that were gentle pools of quicksilver that were as calm and every bit mysterious as a moonlit lake, and tufts of soft-looking black hair sticking out here and there. Goro could hear the literal angels singing in soprano just by watching him laugh.
The way Amamiya looked when he was in deep thought, the small smirk he made whenever he was right, his sharp witty humor, the stories he’d read online about how the detective would patiently make time for his fans to properly chat with them…
Yes, there was no other way to put it: Goro Akechi was whipped, hopelessly infatuated with a boy on TV who he’d never have a chance to meet in real life.
Of course, Goro was quite aware that Ren Amamiya was someone famous, and that a poor high school student that could barely help his mother afford rent with his secret double life as Crow would barely catch his eye.
But.
That was the reason precisely why he allowed himself to continue crushing on Amamiya. Since destiny had practically confirmed from the day the universe was nothing but electrons and baryonic matter that they would never ever cross paths, he had no reason to hope for anything other than just an innocent crush .
Ren Amamiya was seated and chatting with a lady host asking him questions. Goro sits next to his mother, opening the chip bag he’d bought in the school’s vending machine as he did so.
“Amamiya-san, isn’t it tough being in high school while being a detective? What is the secret in juggling both your school life and your work life? I doubt that anyone can go that long without some sort of motivation.” The announcer was saying. “I’m sure many of your fans, especially in the younger crowd, would love to know!”
Amamiya laughs charmingly, and Goro’s heart does a series of somersaults. “To be fairly honest, it’s never been much of an issue.” He smiles. “I make sure to save weekends for my friends, though, and on those days I don’t do any work at all.”
Goro spends his weekends in the Metaverse killing shadows and studying to maintain his rank as first in the grade, and his friends, if he had to consider them that, Yoshizawa and Togo were usually busy as well, Yoshizawa with her gymnastics, and Togo with whatever shoji competition she had upcoming.
As for Kurusu… Well, he’s not sure if Kurusu really qualifies to be a friend. Kurusu was more like the extra baggage Goro had to lug around with him through the Metaverse, sometimes proving to be more trouble than he was worth.
He crunches on his chips thoughtfully.
The woman is asking another question, but Goro’s not listening. He’s too busy, and unashamedly so, watching the little scrunch Amamiya’s nose makes while the detective processes the question. “Yeah, well--”
The TV switches into another channel, replacing the interview with a scene he recognizes as his mother’s favorite drama, and both Robin and Loki give twin cries of protest as he turns to look at his mother, betrayed.
“Enough is enough,” She props a leg up on the couch indifferently. “I’ve already had to sacrifice my drama for you last week.” She grabs his bag of chips and crunches on them noisily.
“Last week?” Goro scoffed, snatching back and reclaiming his bag of chips. “What’s the point? Your favorite character, the other love interest dies in the end anyway, so why bother watching?” He inches closer to the remote--
His mother let out a demonic screech, one so fearsome that even Loki shrunk away from, “I told you not to spoil the drama for me!”
“You knew that even before I told you because you looked it up once!” Goro protests.
“I would have forgotten it before you told me that!”
Tch. Excuses, excuses. He opened his mouth, ready to explain to his mother that was clearly not how human memories worked before he was momentarily distracted by the crying noises coming from the TV.
How pathetic. The main character should’ve ignored the man, understanding he was nothing more than a wuss with the front of a self-serving righteous person.
He glares at the TV screen with ferociousness that was uncalled for, stuck with watching the movie the both of them knew the ending to.
The main character wails in a foreign language and Goro squints down at the subtitles. “You promised me! Did it really mean nothing to you?”
His mother’s attention was now caught onto the screen and she gasps, adjusting her reading glasses hurriedly, a hand over her mouth, eyes beginning to moisten.
“Are you crying over a fictional character?” Goro could barely believe what he was seeing. His mother, never one to break down, was sniffing due to the stereotypical romance second male lead and a trashy plotline.
It was almost as if his mother was one of those… Goro’s mind swirled as he searched for the right word. ...Fangirls.
He must have said something out loud, because his mother scowls. “I am not.” Snaps his mother, grabbing a fistful of tissues from the table, dabbing her eyes furiously. “And don’t you have your homework?”
He’s actually completed it in the middle of class as the teacher was teaching, but nothing made him more uncomfortable than being in the presence of someone crying, be it even his mother, so he sighs and nods his head dejected instead. “Right.”
His mother and him are alike in the sense that they’re both bad at changing the topic when it comes to things that make them vulnerable.
“She’s such a… such a…” Yoshizawa struggles to say the right word. “B..b..bit…”
“Bitch?” Goro supplies helpfully, finishing his yakisoba he didn’t have time to eat at lunch. Though they had been venting to each other for quite some time, it was hard for Yoshizawa to be impolite to someone, even behind their back.
Yoshizawa nodded vigorously. “Yeah!”
It was after school, and the both of them were on the rooftop. Over the year, as Goro had gotten progressively closer to Yoshizawa, both of them had realized they had a few things in common: they were model students, they were in the student council, they had very, very concerning issues, and had an unhealthy tendency to keep it in.
So one day after Yoshizawa had broken down in tears after the seventh time someone had jeered at her openly about her deceased elder sister (which Goro had suspected had been going on but Yoshizawa had denied) Goro had abused-- ahem, made good use of his position as student council president to authorize a sort of vent club for them as they vent out their pent up frustration about school, about their family, and about life in general. And Goro had a lot of pent up frustration to rant about.
The gardening club members had complained in the first place (something about needing to use the roof for their club as well), but there were no objections after a few members had mysteriously disappeared for a few days only to reappear very visibly shaken up.
It was a miracle, really, that Yoshizawa hadn’t run for the hills after knowing who he truly was, the side of him he was careful never to expose to the rest of the student body.
“Say, Yoshizawa-san.” Goro puts his chopsticks together and closes them inside, “Aren’t you ever tired of the rumors and gossip going on behind your back?”
“Huh?” Yoshizawa blinks. “Well, it’s not that I can control what they say.” She seems more tired than usual, Goro notes, observing the tired dark circles underneath her eyes. And he doubts it has anything to do with the extra pressure her coach was placing on her as her gymnastic competition was coming up, one of Yoshizawa’s not-so-issues she had told him about last week.
“If only you weren’t so nice.” Goro muttered under his breath, but cleared his throat and said louder, “There are… ways to get others to cooperate.”
“Akechi-senpai…” Yoshizawa looks up at him, eyes full of worry. “Sometimes I wonder how you’re the vice president.”
“Oh, don’t worry too much about it.” He gives a slight chuckle. “It’s not complicated at all to pull the blindfold over the eyes of outside observers. In fact, the concept of dramaturgy derived from Canadian sociologist Erving Goffman perfectly sums it up--”
“Yes, yes, senpai,” says Yoshizawa hurriedly, before he could delve into further elaboration. “But didn’t you say that there was some trouble regarding our club?”
“Right.” His expression turned into a frown as he recalled the details of the situation, the threat of forcibly shutting down their club. It wasn’t due to the fact that they had formed the club under a weird activity (he had entered the club as an ant counting club and while Kawakami had raised an eyebrow at that, she hadn’t objected to it), but rather the fact that two members were allegedly ‘too little’ for a club to have.
Which, was to say, was absurd, because really, ant counting was an activity one could partake by themselves.
But there were rules and regulations, so he supposes it wasn’t really Kawakami’s fault.
In other words: they had to find a third member or the club was as good as unofficialized. However, Yoshizawa and he had very limited time together-- lunch time was when he was busy with either studying or business for the student council, and he used the club as an excuse for his mom to enter the Metaverse after school as to not arouse any suspicion that her son was out doing vigilante activities.
No other spots around Shujin offered the amount of privacy the rooftop did, and weekends were out of the question. Furthermore, if the ant counting club was disbanded, the gardening club had the right to annex the roof, as if the garden on the ground floor wasn’t enough for them already.
Also… there was the fact that every single person in this school was a back-stabbing little minx that would turn on them whenever the opportunity arose. Any information Goro and Yoshizawa were discussing would be perfect blackmail material if they were potentially heard. And rumors were the last thing Goro wanted to happen.
Togo was a potential candidate, but she was out of the question. While Togo and him were close enough that he was willing to call her a friend and confide in her for certain matters, Yoshizawa wasn’t as close to her as he was.
Hm. This was proving to be more of an issue than he’d originally assumed.
Goro stays silent as he mentally flips through his options, gazing down at the whole school. If only there was someone out there that minded their own business, kept to themselves, and didn’t partake in rumor spreading...
As if on cue, a mop of unruly black hair pops up from the bottom of his vision.
Completely oblivious, Yoshizawa fiddled with her glasses. “Should we ask Hifumi-senpai?”
“There’s no need to.” Goro’s lips slowly curved into a smile, “Don’t worry, Yoshizawa-san. Leave the third member to me.”