Chapter Text
I’m going to be completely honest with you: I hate you.”
It all started with the day when he truly understood Akira for who he was. To put it plainly, Akira was everything he couldn’t be. Everything better, from his innate talent with a multitude of things, to his ability to have so many things Akechi wanted desperately.
Who was he to undermine everything Akechi planned? To have what he wanted, with nowhere near the effort? Akechi had wished, some naive part of him wished there would be a ‘just’ way to bring down Shido. And now that Akira had that, all Akechi could feel was resentment. And longing, from that same naive feeling.
But bloody hands are never truly washed clean, and he knew what he had to do; go along with the plan that hadn’t failed him yet. Call it petty or washed up, who gave a shit anyway? Even if he had wished for something so long ago, the anger from his Mother’s death would overshadow whatever feelings followed.
The bitterness that had long waited to be used finally coated his voice, he could feel something akin to satisfaction with Akira’s slight wince. Gone was the cordiality of the ‘Detective Prince’. Gone were the minced words and carefully crafted sentences. While not all the cards were thrown on the table, Akechi was tired of him having the upper hand.
“Your deft handling of unfortunate circumstances, your uniqueness, your ability to surpass me— all of these irritate me. You’re the one person I refuse to lose to”
And yet, he had lost time and time again. From trivial things like darts, to even his own profession— with that case against Madarame’s associate. It was shameful, like being put into checkmate in the first 10 moves of chess. A sort of anguish filled his chest with each sharp word, and he tried to maintain some face.
His anger had unfurled into an uglier feeling, he reeled it in. Part of him (Loki was probably to blame) wanted to go back into the metaverse and show Joker who he truly was. Not some prissy straight-laced prince, but someone far more destructive. He knew he wouldn’t be satisfied with Shido’s plan, he wanted to—
He banished those thoughts away and sorted his feelings: His vengeance would be against Shido. Akira was just a pebble in the road, albeit one that was growing increasingly troublesome. First with his involvement Kaneshiro, and now with Shido’s direct attention.
Akira’s expression had turned unreadable, save for eyes glinting with conviction, darker even with the lights surrounding them. He didn’t seem intimidated, observing as he listened to the venomous statements.
“You really hate losing, don’t you?”
That’s what he took away from all this? He didn’t back away, even after Akechi let his true feelings slip? How horribly good of him, he must feel like lady justice herself. Akechi almost felt egged on, like Akira was waiting for this moment.
He composed himself, if only slightly. He hid a sneer, trying to piece together a viable response.
“I let you have this win today. but next time, I will be victorious. Just wait.”
He finally said, knowing full well that the day would probably never come. There was a chopping block, and Akira was next on the line. He didn’t know exactly how to feel about it. Like so many things with Akira, it was an amalgamation of unsaid emotions. And Akechi hated it, hated him for the jealousy he caused. In a spur of the moment decision, he threw his glove at Akira.
“Let this be my proof.” He continued, explaining the tradition when someone challenges an opponent. Akira appeared surprised, but his demeanor completely changed. From an easy laid-back posture, to one similar to the standard ‘Joker’ getup. Akechi’s challenge brought a pridefulness that Akira often lacked out of the metaverse, and for some reason that made him want to grin.
“Make certain you never forget: I am the one who will defeat you.”
They stood at odds, Akechi filled with a rare sort of adrenaline, his heart suddenly even more longing than before. Of what, he wasn’t sure. At the same time, his stomach dropped like he was going down a hill on a rollercoaster.
Was letting their friendship become like this a good thing? Why couldn’t he have indulged in the pleasant not-reality for a bit longer, not just as rivals or enemies, but true friends? He was quick to shut down those unpleasant feelings, entertaining those ideas would just lead to the worsening tightness in his chest.
He excused himself, leaving Akira in a stunned silence. But as he glanced back, he swore he saw sadness in his eyes. It didn’t matter, things were only going to get worse here anyway. Better to cut off the good feelings before Akechi fully betrayed him. He walked out of Akira’s view.
A sudden cold ache filled his body as he doubled over in a covered cough. Maybe that heavy weight was some mucus in his chest, but he couldn’t be sure. While it had been chilly recently, the winter hadn’t kicked in yet. Not wanting to draw attention, he suppressed the dry cough. The image of Akira was still in his mind, much to his annoyance. It shouldn’t bother him as much as it did, especially with what was to come.
Sae-san’s palace was aggravating, to say the least. They had just sent the calling card, meaning everything was coming into play. But Akechi couldn’t help but feel a growing pain in his chest, an anxiety of some sort. Police were going to capture Akira tonight, leading to his soon-to-be death. Even with all the murders he’d done in the past, this one was the most foreboding. And the most confusing.
Shouldn’t he be happy that the job was almost complete? That Akira would no longer be an obstacle? He didn’t know, and the knot in his stomach was currently trying to compete with his lunch. These indecisive emotions were getting to him. What did he have to be upset about? Losing a shitty rival?
He shook himself mentally, trying to keep the facade of collected friendliness that the Phantom Thieves were familiar with. All that was left was Sae herself, which would likely be just as infuriating as the rest of this place. They followed her into a large room with a giant screen, the tacky casino decor still present. Her garishly painted face appeared on the screen as she began monologuing about her brand of ‘justice’. It was ridiculous, the parading of self-serving justice, how she absolutely had to win. In some ways, her beliefs were no better then Shido’s, the same selfish want fueling them. If the justice system was always right, then what about Akira’s framing? What about all the murders that were being blamed on the phantom thieves?
The justice system was just as corrupt as its politicians, unsurprisingly. But Akechi didn’t really care anyway. Once they dealt with Sae’s bullshit, it was one step closer to the final act of this whole charade. The most righteous and just person of this whole city was going to die, ending this courageous showboating with a (literal) bang.
...
Akechi didn’t really want to hate him. Really didn’t want him to die. While Joker posed a problem, Akira was very, very different. What did Akechi even hate him for? The fact that he wanted to be with him? That he had so many friends, connections, and a life Akechi secretly wanted?
Maybe he hated what had to be done. Hated that his only friend was also the person he had to kill. This double-triple agent shit had caused so many feelings to bubble over, his chest squeezing uncomfortably.
A hand shook him out of his sudden stupor, the trademark red glove of Joker. He looked slightly concerned, an eyebrow creased for only a second before returning to the normal ‘Joker’ act. He was being foolish, and had been acting this way ever since their fight in the metaverse. Akechi side-eyed him, returning to a fighting stance. This was no time to get sentimental or have any regrets. Catching the broiling emotions in his gut would only stifle him.
Joker took the acknowledgement as an ‘okay’ signal, and began chattering with the others about strategy. Akechi was suddenly struggling to breathe, the same choking feeling from before. He tried to keep whatever was coming up down, which only made it ache worse. This was ridiculous, what was happening? He took another steadying breath, a burning sensation igniting with every inhale. The searing in his stomach grew, like some sort of jealousy on steroids. It didn’t matter, as the fight was already beginning.
The ceiling opened up, revealing a betting table type decoration surrounding them, with Sae a good distance away. Apparently she wanted to do more unfair gmabling before actually trying to kill them. Or maybe she was going to try to kill them now. The words “Bet HP” were now projected on the screen, which was incredibly telling of how she’d try to play this.
“Joker, she clearly doesn’t intend to fight fair. Bet low, we don’t need a high risk bet for something we likely won’t win.”
“I doubt we’ll be able to uncover anything by playing it safe, Crow.” Joker now had a very familiar crooked smile on his face, like he was waiting for the challenge. However, in this case, he was being a complete idiot. Sae had explicitly warned them all about what would happen if they disobeyed her rules, yet he continued to bullshit his way through.
He sent out an attack, and almost immediately was stricken back with Sae’s overwhelming attack.
Akechi’s stomach felt like it dropped as Joker suddenly clenched over in pain, almost on the verge of passing out. The worry under the surface made his whole body feel shaky. Why was he afraid of losing a person who was already going to die? His entire stature stiffened up as the rest of the Phantom Thieves rushed to help him.
“Shit! Someone heal him!” Ryuji panicked as he saw Akira’s injuries. Quickly, Makoto used a Mediarahan and helped him stand up. Sae’s threat became much more serious.
Akira immediately tried to downplay it as “don’t worry guys, you know I have a flare for dramatics”
But the anger was seeping into Akechi’s veins again, the tightness of his lungs worsened. Trying to suppress the cough that bubbled only made things worse, but he wouldn’t allow them to pity him. Besides, their glorious leader still needed help. Akechi leaned closer to him, a very subtle glare on his face.
“What are you doing! You’re about two steps away from getting killed, and now you’re just brushing it off.” Joker gave him that uncharacteristically serious look again, and Akechi suppressed the rattle in his chest. Fuck this, this whole stupid situation.
“Jeez Akechi, why don’t you chill for a bit? Joker said he’s fine!” Ryuji said, clearly forgetting code names in his little comment.
A sneer threatened to show, but he couldn’t let himself break character more.
“Fine. If you all want to get killed, be my guest. But there’s clearly a reason behind this. You have to play her game in order to—“
He couldn’t finish his sentence as his throat tightened again, a bellowing cough that echoed over the stadium. He covered his mouth as he doubled over, the pain much more acute than before.
What the hell?
The others looked at him with increasing concern, especially Joker, who stepped towards him (even injured as he was).
Between wheezes, he managed to talk, albeit unfiltered. “God…. Just don’t worry about me… it’s some dust.”
The wet coughs made it very obvious it was not dust, but everyone was wary of Akechi already anyway. Besides, Sae had begun to demand attention again. The game was still in play.
As they prepared for the next attack, Akechi finally spit something out: a couple of black petals of some kind along with, oh fuck, blood.
What did that even mean? The dark petals and his own blood smeared on his white gloves, matching the same color as his mask.
This wasn’t old blood.
Making sure no one else was paying attention, he pulled more soft petals from his throat, and now knew what it was. Fresh green thorns coated in blood, with small black roses adorning the top.