Work Text:
“I’m not staying in Tokyo.”
Akira looked completely unphased, his open shock twisting in a smile. “Me neither.”
“I’m not staying anywhere.”
“Then I’ll follow you to nowhere.”
Goro turned his head away, he couldn’t stand to look any longer at the glaring honesty in Akira’s eyes. “Fine,” he sighed, turning back towards the train station. He looked back at Akira where he stood, out of place and in his element all at once among the crowd. “I’m not so wasteful as to believe I’ll be able to dissuade you if you’ve made up your mind, but I’m not going to slow down for you, Kurusu.”
Akira’s untamed hair flew wildly as the Shinkansen roared past at breakneck speed. He was a bit taller, perhaps a bit leaner, but just as gorgeous as he always was. And here Akira was, standing on a train platform, one of the few he’d have to take to return to his hometown, and staring at Goro like he held the world in his palms.
“I won’t let you down.”
“Where are you guys?” a voice (probably Ann’s) rang out, loud and obvious from Akira’s phone as he opened the door. Goro shot him a pointed glare and gestured back to his computer where he was currently trying to teach a hopeless American kid how to speak Japanese. He never thought he of all people would end up a teacher (much less to kids who saw more money in a day than he had in his first fifteen years of life), but it paid well and it was a sacrifice he was more than willing to make if it meant he could afford their nomadic lifestyle.
Akira winced, mouthing an apologetic, ‘sorry,’ as he lowered the volume and moved to shuffle through his wallet in search of his ID. Well, one of his many IDs, at least half of which Goro was certain were outdated by now.
(Akira made it a tradition to decorate their camper with their old IDs and passports, hiding them inside a tiny Christmas tree during winter and in the mouths of skeletal bats when Halloween came around.
Like most things about Akira, Goro eventually came to find it more amusing than annoying.)
Goro rolled his eyes at the gesture, turning his attention back to where the kid was reading back the text he’d emailed as part of the ‘curriculum’ Goro gave out. Not that it was entirely useless, Goro certainly knew enough of both English and Japanese to make it work, but it certainly wasn’t anything he would pay for.
Frankly, he would never pay for himself as a tutor either, but forging the necessary documentation was easier with overseas clients than it was with native ones. The fact that neither he nor Akira had technically graduated high school, as ironic as it was, didn’t matter as much when Goro had long ago perfected the art of forgery and had a genius for a sister.
Akira left quietly, no less a phantom now than he was when they were teenagers, and Goro idly wondered if the ID meant he’d be buying something with a high ABV. Not that Goro had particularly high hopes, they’d only stopped at this gas station because it was the cheapest one they could find, but at this point the migraine pounding his skull didn’t care if the drinks were actually good or not.
As his last lesson of the day wrapped up he found himself staring out the driver window, trying to calculate how much he made this month. When they first started out, they’d gone by train, taking whatever train they could catch, sometimes for hours at a time, and surviving off whatever cheap motel they could find. Even before they started dating (officially? They never quite had a moment where they officially began dating, even if they casually referred to one another as their husband) they quickly got used to the notion of sharing a bed just for the sake of their finances. Since then, a four million yen combined investment (thanks to the funds they received from the metaverse and a covert savings account Goro had maintained under Shido’s thumb), they had moved on to a camper car, which meant that phone and gas bills tended to be their worst expenses.
Still, Akira’s rotating door of odd jobs and Goro’s stable tutoring position made it feasible. No matter how much the job bored Goro, it was a living, one that meant they could stay as long or short as they liked at any town they passed, and that made terrible late nights of work worth it.
He stood up and stretched, stepping out into the humid autumn air, the slight breeze relieving his headache a little as he moved to the side of the camper to check the latest gas bill.
20,000 yen, Goro sighed, watching his entire paycheck be swept out from under him and glancing around in search of the usual culprit, whom he found sitting on a bench, a polite distance away from the camper and any other people (even if it was the dead of night and practically empty aside from themselves). Akira looked relaxed, smiling slightly as he leaned back like he didn’t have a care in the world.
For not the first time Goro felt a twinge of anxious guilt ache in his chest.
He knew how deeply Akira cared for his friends, as well as how much he missed his life back in Tokyo. For all his reassurances that he’d rather be with Goro than with the ex-Phantom Thieves, Goro knew that look of longing when he saw it.
When Akira caught his eye and smiled, he felt that same guilt squeeze his chest a little harder, so Goro just nodded back, taking it upon himself to cure his sobriety rather than wait for Akira to do so.
When Akira was finished with his weekly call with one of the Phantom Thieves (which usually ended up being either Futaba or a combination of several of the Phantom Thieves in one large video call), he joined Goro where he was looking through the news, sipping casually on the cheap liquor he spent the remainder of his paycheck on.
“Sorry about earlier, I forgot you had another lesson today,” Akira apologized again, kissing him on the cheek and then sitting down next to Goro to glance over his shoulder.
“Stop apologizing all the time,” Goro grumbled, because Akira really should stop doing that. “Who was it this time?”
“Ann. She said to tell you to stop ignoring her texts.”
Right. Ann was still trying to convince him to go on a food (read, sweets) tour of Japan with her and Haru since he and Akira had become the resident travel experts of the group. He was still trying to explain in less than explicit terms that he can’t return to Okinawa without being arrested. Her claims that Goro could just disguise himself as a girl if he got the right wig had started to get out of hand.
“I’ll stop ignoring her texts when she stops trying to convince me to crossdress,” he snorted.
“Why not try it?” Akira asked, grinning lopsidedly as he leaned bodily into Goro’s back, warm and relaxed with one arm slung loosely around Goro’s waist, “I could give you tips.”
“Because she wants me to crossdress so we can sneak into Okinawa.”
Akira’s smile stuttered into a half-grimace. “Ouch. Wait—she does know about the watermelon incident, right? I could’ve sworn we told her...”
“I’m nearly convinced that she’s either forgotten or committed to intentional ignorance.”
“Hmm,” Akira hummed, “have you tried talking about changing the destination?”
“Yeah but she seems dead-set on revisiting it.” Goro deftly moved the bottle Akira was reaching for just out of arms’ length, relishing a little in Akira’s protesting pout.
“Why?”
“We still need to find overnight parking and to do that one of us needs to be sober,” and with that, Goro took a long, slow dip of the drink while making direct eye contact with Akira.
“Rude,” he huffed, even though his expression was still immeasurably fond, and he took his swift revenge by ruffling Goro’s hair while his hands were occupied hiding the bottle behind his back, “at least save me some for later.”
If Goro wasn’t so preoccupied with glaring at Akira, he might have downed the whole bottle in one go (or, so he likes to pretend, at least). As it was, though, the pleasant buzz starting to settle his head reminded him of something else important. Another conversation he should probably be more or less sober for.
Akira started the car and Goro felt any confidence he had before shrivel and die in his chest.
Fuck it. He took another sip despite himself, relishing in the silence that fell between them. The silence that neither of them felt the need to fill, because they were comfortable like that, serenaded by the droning hum of the engine.
Goro almost wished it would last longer when Akira inevitably pulled into a stop and parked. But he liked talking to Akira as much as he liked the quiet, and he, unfortunately, needed to have this conversation like the well-adjusted adult he was because even if he knew Akira appreciated surprises, he had a feeling Akira would appreciate this more if he knew ahead of time. Besides, they really did need to talk about this, even if Goro was writhing under his skin at the thought.
Akira beat him to the punch, of course. “Something up?” He murmured, pressing a lingering kiss into his shoulder and wrapping one arm around Goro’s waist. He leaned back into the contact for a second, before forcing himself out and sitting face to face with Akira.
“We should talk.”
Akira’s expression didn’t change, even if Goro could feel the way his body stiffened next to him. “About what?”
“If I didn’t dump you seven years ago I’m not dumping you now, don't give me that look,” Goro snapped, and despite his tone he could feel Akira relax in that same breath. “Your birthday is coming up soon,” Goro started, keeping his tone level and calm as he watched Akira’s eyes, “so it’s best to start by saying that we’re going back to Tokyo so you can celebrate with the rest of the Thieves.”
Akira’s expression broadened brightly, eyes crinkling with adoration. “Thanks,” he chuckled, probably having already assumed as much given that they’d gone back to Tokyo to celebrate it every year (the only exception being the year prior in which they were both sick with food poisoning).
“Enjoy it, it's your only present this year,” Goro scoffed at the nonreaction, making Akira laugh even harder.
“No, no! I really am excited to go back for a couple of days. You always get me the best presents.”
Goro didn’t smile but he did feel a little smug that Akira hadn’t actually guessed the ‘surprise’ yet. “Well, see, that’s the caveat. I’m not planning for us to stay there for just a few days.”
He watched as the gears turned in Akira’s head, slowly ticking as he said carefully, “what do you mean?”
“You’ve been incredibly flexible towards my wishes since we first started dating,” Goro offered as preamble, “and I know I don’t say it much but I truly do appreciate all the concessions you’ve made for me,” he idly rubbed Akira’s thumb as he sighed, slightly pained by the honesty scraping his chest raw, “but are you happy like this?”
Akira frowned, eyes searching even as he nodded. “Of course I am. I love you.”
“No, are you happy with this lifestyle?” Goro clarified, grinding his bitten down nails into his palm to force himself to stay reasonable.
Akira didn’t answer immediately, and it was enough for Goro to look away.
“Instead of a few days, I thought perhaps you might enjoy staying in Tokyo for a month.” Goro finished lamely.
“I would like that,” Akira started, “but I’m not unhappy living with you like this—”
“But you’re not happy either.” Goro finished pointedly, and Akira gave him a silently tired look.
Still, he took the high road and just shook his head. “I like living freely like this,” he mused to himself, “it’s exciting, and I’ve enjoyed living the high life of crime with you,” he winked not-so-subtly and Goro couldn’t help the little smirk that quirked his lips. “I—”
Goro gave Akira time, moving to take Akira’s hands in his own and rub his thumbs gently. “If you’re trying to spare my feelings, don’t.”
“No,” Akira laughed, eyes glinting with amusement and guilt, “it’s not that. I guess I just haven’t thought much about what I want.”
Goro grimaced, because that was a very Akira thing to do. Anyone who looked at him for longer than a second could tell that there was a longing in his eyes he was never rid of. A longing for something permanent, something stable. And even Akira was the only one who couldn’t see it. Or perhaps he could, perhaps he knew exactly what he wanted and he was still lying because he was afraid Goro would leave him for it.
Idiot, Goro thought, equal measures fond and frustrated.
“Regardless, I figure we may as well attempt a more sedentary lifestyle for a period. If we find we don’t like it, then we’ve made no commitments. If we do, then we can work it out from there.” A pause, before he quickly added, “if you’d like.”
“Okay,” he agreed, a broad smile spreading across Akira’s face that made Goro’s heartbeat a little faster, and made the agony of honesty worth it. “I’d like that.”
It only took a week before the aching need to leave took root in Goro’s chest. It was a small thing at first, buzzing in the back of his mind whenever he found himself too lost in thought, but it grew rapidly, wild and uncontrollable as it strangled his veins. Goto didn’t particularly disliked living in Tokyo. Far from it, he found that he could appreciate the city far better now than he did as a kid, and his dates with Akira to Jazz Jin and Penguin Sniper were certainly nostalgic. But no matter how much he enjoyed staying in Tokyo and making new memories of old, something itched inside of him—an anxious voice in the back of his mind that made his arms weak with frustration. The need to move, to travel somewhere else, the welling fear of letting himself linger anywhere he may be remembered.
Frankly, if Goro were to guess, the feeling was probably somewhat trauma related. Despite their jokes, he and Akira had spent the first two years of their nomadic lifestyle honestly on the run from a multitude of people (on Goro’s part, Shido’s minions—on Akira’s part, law enforcement). Even with his own insight, though, Goro forced himself to shove that issue to the back of his mind. Maybe he’d talk to a therapist about it, but he’d do so later.
This was for Akira, not him, and he couldn’t bring himself to voice his concerns when Akira looked so happy being back with his friends. At the very least, Akira deserved this much. Maybe Goro could count this as one of his birthday gifts.
Instead of telling anyone, Goro channeled his frustration and anxiety into something more productive—i.e. working. Even if they saved money by stowing away in Sojiro’s attic for the time being, they’d need it again sooner or later. Regardless of how the month ended.
Which was how he ended up giving lessons at six in the morning in Leblanc’s cafe (he could have done it in the attic, but that risked the chance that his personal belongings might be seen and he had a professional, utterly detached image to maintain).
When the bell chimed he wasn’t surprised to find his gremlin sister still awake, typing something furiously on her phone. His phone pinged.
Futaba: wait r u still working
Goro nodded with just a small sigh, turning his attention back to his computer screen only to hear his phone buzz again.
Futaba: k dw i’ll be quiet
Goro gave her a look, one that probably would have been less exasperated and more unamused had he not had to quickly glance back down when he realized he was being asked a question.
Thankfully, Futaba kept to her word, preoccupied by her phone even if she was constantly texting him throughout the lesson, something he only knew because she was one of the few people he didn’t have on do not disturb.
A mistake he quickly corrected.
“Why are you here?” he groaned once he was finally done with his job for the morning.
“Got bored. I saw you through the cameras and thought I’d bother you.”
He glanced at her, and then did a double take when he finally took in the violently purple bruises under her eyes.
“You didn’t sleep last night,” he commented rather than accused.
“Correction, I haven’t slept for the past two nights,” Futaba cackled, “actually—” she eyed the coffee press, only to startle when Goro shook his head decisively.
“You’re being cut off,” he smirked petulantly, more than a little gleeful at the betrayal in her eyes.
“But Mr. Bartenderrrrr,” she whined, “how am I supposed to rewatch seasons 6 and 7 in preparation for season 8 if not through the power of coffee?”
“Like a normal human,” he scoffed.
She pouted, but recovered quickly nonetheless. “You’re a disgrace to the RedGrey fandom.”
“And you’re a weeb who barely leaves her room and still has her dad’s cafe bugged. Your point?”
She stuck out her tongue like it was her trump card, and they fell into easy silence, Goro taking to making eggs to keep himself busy while Futaba loudly played Neo Featherman R season 7 episode 3 on her phone.
Unsurprisingly, his first batch came out underdone, then burned when he tried to cook them again. The second came out significantly better, which was a bit pathetic since it’d taken literal years of his life to get to this point, but at least he could feed himself.
He leaned against the bar, choosing to stand to stretch his legs when Futaba darted over to steal a bite with her grubby little fingers.
“Hey!”
“Mwehehe!” Futaba cackled loudly, voice pitching to a shriek as she dodged around him as he play-stabbed at her with his fork, “never turn your back on a thief!”
He couldn’t help but smile, despite himself. It had been a while since they relaxed like this, and even though he didn’t tend to miss people the way Akira did, spending time with her now helped soothe a nerve he didn’t realize was tense. He missed her, some days. It was nice having family around.
She choked a second later, spitting out the egg and looking at him like she saw a ghost.
“Way too much salt,” she grumbled, “your tastebuds must have a super high armor class if that’s what you cook.”
He took a large bite of his food, making direct eye contact with her as he did, and chewed, making no little show of swallowing and then going back for another bite. It wasn’t actually that bad. A little bland if anything.
“You’re gross,” she huffed, “I really hope Akira doesn’t let you cook.”
He shrugged. “Depends on the day.”
She made a show of rolling her eyes. “He’s such a masochist. I can’t believe he simps over you this hard.”
“Me neither,” Goro admitted, and it was true enough. He really couldn’t believe Akira stayed with him this long, was still committed to staying with him even now, when Goro's done nothing but take from his life over and over again. His friends, his stability, his chances at a stable career—
“Hey,” Futaba interrupted his train of thought, forcing him back into the present with a forceful prod, “let’s go on a road trip.”
He stared at her blankly, waiting for her to add something about needing to run for the law or how she ‘got’ him with a stupid joke.
She stared back, expression dead serious.
“No.”
“Why not?” she fired back, utterly unaffected by the rejection.
“Because you know why me and Akira travel so much.”
“I don’t mean I want to rob a bank with you or whatever it is you two do, I just wanna go on a road trip with you,” she rolled her eyes at his stern expression, “what? It’s obvious you’re going stir-crazy staying here and I wanna rank up with my brother. So, road trip.”
He didn’t wince at the mention of his nervousness, but something must have shown in his expression because she quickly added, “I mean, unless you actually have a good reason not to go.”
He didn’t, and more than anything the idea of getting back on the road tugged at the nervous, anxious throb in his chest that screamed he couldn’t stay long, that yearned to become a phantom again, flitting through lives unseen and unnoticed unless he wanted to be.
“No.”
She pulled out her strongest weapon: “You still owe me for getting you and Akira out of Okinawa.”
He didn’t budge. “I’m still not doing it.”
“Wow, rude. You’re such an ass.”
“Like you didn’t already know that.”
Futaba seemed to shrink back at that, rocking back and forth on her heels as she contemplated something, before looking back up with a frown. “I won’t bug you about it more if you really don’t want to,” she sighed, “but why don’t you want to?”
Her expression didn’t change but the look in her eyes was like cracked glass, just one more breath and it might shatter.
“It’s not that I mind the idea of going on a road trip with you,” he admitted, slowing his breathing to make sure the words came out even and clear, “it’s just…” he glanced back towards the stairs, and her eyes lit up in realization just as he forced himself to finish, “we came back for his birthday. I’d be an atrocious boyfriend if I absconded somewhere when he’s so happy here.”
“He’ll want you to be happy too,” she pointed out, “besides, you get moody when you’re anxious. He’ll be much happier if you’re enjoying yourself than if you’re just sticking through this just for him.”
She was probably right, of course, considering that Akira was a bleeding heart and a pushover who could never deny him anything. But it was because Akira was such a pushover who never considered his own feelings that Goro needed to tread carefully.
“I’ll talk to him about it,” he conceded, before shaking his head tiredly, “but if he agrees don’t expect me to break you out of jail if you get arrested.”
“Buzzkill.”
Akira agreed, of course. In fact, he was extremely quick to agree, too quick, really. Before Goro really knew what was happening Akira had arranged for them to take a trip the very next morning, eagerly shoving Goro out the door and into the driver’s seat of a car—not their car, Sojiro’s, since the trip wasn’t supposed to be particularly long. He was on the road, halfway to Kyoto already and Goro could swear that if he looked in the rearview mirror he would see Akira waving them off still.
When Goro checked, he wasn’t there, replaced with miles of open road and farmland.
Whatever itch that possessed him wasn’t entirely gone, the car they drove didn’t exactly help with that, but it lessened almost immediately, confirming exactly what Goro was afraid to admit.
Futaba lounged over the divide between the driver’s seat and the rest of the car.
“This is so boring,” she grumbled, dramatically leaning over the divider as if testing Goro’s patience was her newest entertainment of choice. On second thought, it probably was.
“You’re the one who volunteered for a road trip,” he pointed out.
“You two made it sound all cool when you called though!” she sighed, slinking forward so she was half in the passenger seat.
“Stop,” he insisted, “if you sit like that you’ll die if we wreck.”
“Then drive well,” Futaba responded, although she did comply, slinking back over the divider like a weird snake until only her hands and head poked over the top.
Peace and quiet ensued…
…for all of three seconds before Futaba took in upon herself to audibly entertain the both of them.
“I spyyyyyy…” she drawled, making a show of looking around through the windshield, “something green.”
“No.”
“Aw, come on. Why not?”
“I don’t want to.”
“Boo,” she sighed, sinking back farther away from the driver’s side until she hit the floor fully with a dull thud. Seconds passed, then a full minute, and Goro relented.
“Is it a tree?”
Futaba jumped back up, leaning obnoxiously far over the divider again. “Nope! Guess again.”
This was so stupid. “Grass?”
“Mm-mm,” she sang, her impish grin needling him like a splinter in his eye, “try again~”
He thought for a moment, a thoroughly unamused look crossing his lips when it hit him. “Your jacket?”
“Correct-a-mungo! Now, I spyyyyyy…”
“Not again,” he sighed to himself.
“Yes again! We’re only getting started with all of the games I’ve prepared for us to play!”
Goro wanted to bury his head in his hands, resigned to whatever fate being trapped in a car with the likes of one Futaba Sakura would result in.
“I spy something also green!”
It was going to be a long trip.
When he first started living the way he and Akira did, he made itineraries almost obsessively. At exactly 8:00 AM they were to leave to visit to visit a shrine which they could only stay at for a maximum of one hour before they moved on to go look at—
It wasn’t until Akira took the driver’s wheel one day and said that they were going on a random trip and it didn’t matter how long they took or spent to get there that he began to relax his rigid planning.
Unfortunately, that meant when things did go wrong, he no longer had his rigid schedule and back-up schedule to rely on.
“My apologies, let me just get this straight,” he muttered through gritted teeth, “not only did our registration not go through, you’re saying that you’re fully booked.”
“Unfortunately, that seems to be the case sir,” the receptionist replied, and though she looked like she was at least trying to seem apologetic, Goro was having absolutely none of this.
“And where would you suggest we sleep then?”
She smiled, pleasantly empty as she informed him, “given that we’re the only hotel in the area, I would recommend trying the next town over.”
“And how far is the nearest town?”
“Hmm,” she thought for a moment, “no more than an hour.”
Fucking perfect he seethed, lips curling dangerously to flash too many teeth as he thanked her for the suggestion and resisted the urge to burn the hotel to the ground.
Futaba didn’t look terribly surprised when he stormed out of the hotel and back to their car with murder in his eyes. “Lemme guess, overbooked?” Futaba asked, peering up over her switch.
“Worse. They didn’t even book us in the first place,” he sighed, counting to ten and then back again. Sadly, he still wanted to strangle someone, so that didn’t work.
She made a face. “So, wait, are we just gonna sleep in the car?”
“Well there’s no way in hell I’m driving another hour at,” he glanced at his phone, “ten at night just for the chance of getting a hotel.” Goro sighed, rubbing his temple with one hand as he contemplated how this was going to work. Of course the one day he doesn’t bring their camper is the day he actually needs it.
“Ew, no offense but I’d rather sleep literally anywhere else,” Futaba grimaced, stretching out from where she’d dented Sojiro’s back seat. Goro didn’t blame the sentiment. Honestly, he didn’t. The car was junk and the seats were old so any sleep they got in there would be stiff at best and downright impossible at worst.
He sighed trying to rack his brain for just about any other solution, only to come back blank. They were, quite literally, in the middle of nowhere. How the hell a hotel here was fully booked was unfathomable, and yet they were here.
“Wait!” Futaba suddenly yelled, standing up and slamming her hands on the dashboard, “I have an idea!”
He waited for a beat. Then, prompted. “I hope it’s to commit fraud and change the hotel’s status so we have a registration.”
“Nah, can’t do that if everyone’s checked in. Besides, it isn’t as if she’ll forget you in the two minutes since you tried to get our registration.”
“Then what do you suggest we do?”
“Let’s go camping!”
He waited a beat. Then two. Her expression didn’t change. “Don’t tell me you’re serious.”
“Of course I am!” She threw open the door, running back around the car towards the trunk.
“Futaba,” Goro scoffed, “you do realize we can’t just go camping without camping equipment, right?”
“Which is why I came prepared!” She lifted the drunk with a dramatic ‘voila!’ and, low and behold, there were a few bags he definitely didn’t remember packing, much less owning in the first place.
Goro’s eyes locked on one obviously in the shape of a tent.
“Did you plan this?” He demanded, eyes narrowing at her.
“Of course not!” She rolled her eyes, but at his unamused look, added, “I mean, I wanted to camp one of these days since I haven’t gotten to do it since the trip like—gosh—seven years ago, but if I planned this I wouldn’t have done it in the middle of bum-fuck nowhere.”
Good point. “And why do you think it’s a better idea to go camping in the middle of the night in, quote, ‘bum-fuck nowhere’ without any knowledge about the local wildlife or if it’s even safe to camp?”
“Pfft—” she snorted, slapping a hand across her face to muffle her laughter, “that’s rich coming from the guy who got banned from Okinawa because you two—”
He huffed, pinching the bridge of his nose against an incoming migraine. “Don’t continue that sentence!” He snapped, “you don’t need to remind me. And that’s not at all the same thing. At least Akira and I googled local wildlife dangers before we did that shit.”
“And look where it got you. C’monnnnnn,” she pleaded, frowning over-exaggeratedly, “where’s your sense of adventure?”
Horrifyingly, Goro found himself relenting to the idea, tempted by the prospect of finding himself somewhere literally no one else was. “Just…” he was really fucking doing this, wasn’t he? “Let’s avoid going anywhere too far. That way if a bear eats us they’ll at least be able to conveniently find out bones.”
“Roger that!”
Perhaps this was karmic retribution for all the people he murdered. Perhaps whatever gods replaced Yaldabaoth and Maruki and EMMA just decided to fuck with him. Perhaps it was just dumb fucking luck.
But they were lost.
Of course.
“Hm,” Goro squinted a little harder at the map. They were technically on the path to approved camping grounds, a hiking trail they found that should have been leading up the path. Evidently, that was not the case.
“There should be a fork in the road,” he muttered for what felt like the fifth time in the last minute.
“Well there isn’t,” Futaba replied, anxiety betraying her in the way she bit at her thumb. “Let’s just go back to the car. I’m starting to think this wasn’t the smartest idea…”
No shit Sherlock. Going out in the middle of the night to a camping spot they had never seen in unfamiliar woods was just about the stupidest thing either of them had ever done—and that was including Goro’s revenge plot against Shido. For all he loved his sister this was, quite frankly, part of the reason he initially denied her when she asked to go on a road trip with him. Restlessness and inexperience tend not to mix well.
“Yeah,” he agreed, “keep your flashlight on, though. We can’t lose the path.”
“Got it.”
The night was pitch black except for their phones, barely lighting the way they came and the sullen dirt road that he sometimes struggled to fully track with his eyes.
Miraculously, they didn’t end up dead. Instead, they found the fork that they were originally looking for, having accidentally taken the wrong path in the dark.
The woods were no less ominous, but at least they’d know where they were should a black bear suddenly decide it was hungry.
“We just had to decide to camp,” Goro muttered under his breath, staring at what felt like the same path he’d been walking for the past ten minutes.
He felt Futaba wince next to him. “Yeah, sorry about that,” she murmured, a little self conscious as her flashlight dipped a little lower than intended, prompting him to push up her hand again. “I didn’t think it’d be like this.”
“Don’t apologize,” Goro sighed, checking the map one last time. They were close—they had to be. “I agreed to it when I shouldn’t have, so we’re both at fault. Stop focusing on whose at fault and let’s focus on not dying for the moment.”
She went quiet again, but at least it seemed less self-putting and more out of basic survival. Then, she asked, “out of curiosity, what was up with you this morning?”
He stiffened like she’d made an accusation, before forcing himself to relax. Habit was a cruel thing.
“Nothing.”
“Don’t give me that,” she frowned audibly, pausing as they reached another fork to read the posted metal signs. “You were totally mopey in the car all morning—it took forever to get you to snap out of it.”
“It’s nothing, really,” he said, giving himself a moment to think before adding, because he was trying to be more honest, “it’s rather stupid if anything.”
“As the queen of stupidity I resent that statement.”
“Don’t be difficult,” he sighed, even as a smile crossed his lips. “Are you sure you want to hear about my issues with Akira?”
“I mean, sure, go for it,” she shrugged causally, bumping his side with her elbow as they took a left. “Can’t say I’ll give the best advice but I’m good at judging stupid people.”
“I feel so supported,” he replied deadpan, and felt himself chuckle along with her. “I suppose I’m…a little surprised at how eager Akira was to get rid of us.”
Futaba was quiet for a moment, her footsteps light but no less noisy next to him as they walked, a little bit closer than before as the noises of the wilderness started to affect them both.
“I don’t think he was trying to get rid of you. I think he just noticed the same thing I did—that you were going stir-crazy and wanted to travel still.”
Goro swallowed down a frustrated sigh. “Perhaps. I suppose I just can’t help but wonder if…”
“If what?”
“This is his way of finally trying to get rid of me. It’s his birthday, he should be able to enjoy it however he wants, still…” he trailed off, unable to fully verbalize what he was trying to make a point about. It wasn’t fear that Akira would cheat, Goro knew more than enough about Akira to know he wouldn’t, and it wasn’t fear that Akira was permanently done with him. Akira wouldn’t have waited so long if he really did want to break up. No matter what they’d agreed that so long as they were on the road, they wouldn’t just abandon the other without a way to return them somewhere familiar. Even if the rule was unnecessary, Goro stuck by it, and Akira knew he did.
“Well, I can tell you that he’s definitely not trying to get rid of you. I mean, have you seen the dude,” Futaba laughed again, equal measures derisive and fond, “he’s followed you like a duckling around the world for the last seven years and he hasn’t gotten tired of you, so there’s no chance he will now.”
The nonchalant confidence with which she said it soothed a nagging worry in the back of Goro’s mind. He smiled a little—only to stop short when they finally, finally reached the mostly empty clearing they’d been looking for all this time.
Given how late it was, his first priority should have been pitching the tent. Hell, it probably should have been getting back to their car by now because with how few people were there he wasn’t entirely certain it was legal to camp in this area (not that the law ever stopped him before).
Instead though, his eyes were magnetized to the sky, and he clicked off his light, quietly motioning for Futaba to do the same.
It took a few moments for her to realize why he instructed her, but she gasped when she saw them. Stars, so many they flecked the sky like paint splatters, bright and unfathomably distant, casting the sky in an ethereal navy glow. This was what he adored about travel, about the transient, glass-like beauty of the world. They would disappear, most even before the sun properly rose, but they would always reappear eventually. Never quite the same from one place to the next, but a constant, shining presence that captured the world in a single breath.
It was the feeling of being infinitesimal, of knowing he was nothing more than a quiet cog in the chaotic works of many. Small amongst the stars—obligated to no one—
Or, rather, to no one he didn’t want to be.
“Wow,” Futaba breathed, and Goro remembered the first time he really saw the stars, a whole year into their excursions. Just outside of Sapporo, when Akira had taken him by the hand and dragged him outside, a ways away from their rental car and further into the remote fields of the countryside, staring up at the sky with a smile so beautifully ephemeral Goro couldn’t help but fall in love with it.
”These are what the stars really look like,” Akira had murmured, letting go of his hand to reach upwards, like he might grasp one if he just reached far enough. “If you forget them all you have to do is look up at the sky again.”
“In truth,” Goro found himself saying, “I’m worried that Akira isn’t happy. At the very least, I know he’d be happier with a more stable life. It’s not a question of whether one loves the other or not, we both already know we do. I want to make him happy, and, as you pointed out, I’m not sure I can as I am.”
“I think Akira’d like that too,” Futaba whispered back, head tilted all the way back as she moved in a slow circle to try and take in the entire sky at once. “But I don’t think you’re giving either of you enough credit. You’re partners, and you’ll have your differences, but isn’t the point of being together to find middle ground despite those differences?” She asked, tilting her head back down to look him in the eye, “rivals are only rivals if they’re equal, right? So you two can try to work out something that accommodates both of you. Maybe you two get an apartment in Tokyo and go out on more wild crime sprees on the weekends, or maybe you two alternate between trips and Tokyo each month. Whatever it is, it’s something you two can decide together.”
Goro stared at her, jaw working as he tried to find a flaw in her logic, only to stop altogether when he realized...yeah. It was that simple. Akira would undoubtedly be happy to figure out a plan with him.
He looked back at Futaba, her figure barely lit by the pale glow of the stars. How her hair was cut short at her chin, the way she clasped her hands behind her back, body relaxed and easy with her jacket hung comfortably around her shoulders.
Funny, seven years had passed and he never realized she grew up until now.
“I suppose you’re right,” he agreed, a little lost for words.
“Of course I am,” she grinned back, “what kind of sister would I be otherwise?”
For perhaps the first time since they started their little misadventure, he found himself genuinely looking forward to what would come next.