Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Futaba has only been awake for less than 10 minutes and has already decided this day was going to shit.

Akechi - of all dead people to be hallucinating, she thinks, why him - is sitting on her couch, cooing at a dog. The damn serial murderer who killed her mother and Haru's father is sitting on her couch acting innocent and, she hated she associated the word with any of his actions, amiable. He had been the one to wake her up, to crack a small joke at her expense with way too soft of a smile for him. His worst offense had been talking so casually about her life and call her by her given name like he knew her on a personal level. She may have considered lightening her stance on him with time and help with the Phantom Thieves, she supposes, but his death in the manner it had happened did not do much, if anything, to help her opinion of him. Now here he was, friendly - even brotherly in a sense - and very much alive. Or, perhaps she is dead. She isn't fond of either answer.

"What's with the dog?" She isn't sure why she asked.

Akechi glances to his side and rolls his eyes. "He decided the attention he was already getting wasn't enough."

"No, like why do you have a dog?"

He pauses his barrage of affection toward the dog before pulling the dog dramatically onto his lap and holding its face up for her to see. Akechi is lavishing the dog with attention, she notes. "I know you don't see him much, but it's not hard to remember we've had a dog for years. You're still feeding him and Necronomicon dinner."

Futaba pauses at the mention of her original persona's name.

"Necronomicon?"

"Futaba, are you actually alright? You're usually not this spacey," Akechi asks with concern. He gets up from the couch to look at her closer. "Do you need to stay home sick? I can call Sojiro home-"

"No, I'm fine. Don't worry," Futaba mutters. For now, she surmises, she should play along as well as she can. She doesn't know what will happen if Akechi realizes she has no idea what's happening "I just got my dream and real life mixed up for a minute."

"Oh, okay," Akechi responds slowly backing away and picking his phone up off the couch. After an extended pause, he continues. "I've made breakfast. Also, Sojiro asked us to go to Leblanc after school tomorrow to meet the transfer student. Wakaba is going to try to leave work early so she can meet him as well."

"Transfer student?" Futaba barely registers her mother's name when he talks, using her given name despite the fact he had killed her shadow with his own two hands. Her mind gets stuck on the phrase transfer student. There's a familiarity in that phrase, one which brings every train of thought, every theory for this scenario, to a grinding halt in her mind.

"Yes, transfer student," Akechi says, as if there was absolutely no relevance to a transfer student associated with Leblanc. "Have you forgotten already? The delinquent kid from Inaba. I believe his name is Kurusu Akira."

She can't describe the emotion she's feeling, but if she were to try and place it, it might land somewhere in the despair category, with hints of sadness and fear. Maybe there's a little anger in the mix as well.

"What day is it?"

He checks the time. "April 8th."

Futaba should have been less surprised when she got home. If Akechi was different now, then why wouldn't the past be? But there's a shock to seeing your long dead mother enjoying a coffee mid conversation with her own killer.

She's just like Futaba remembers, aged 2 years. Her hair is greying in small streaks toward the front and the lines on her face have depended, but she's Isshiki Wakaba all the same. And she's talking to Akechi Goro with a fond smile on her face.

He's ranting about something, and Futaba is less concerned about the content and more about how casual he is. He's wearing sweatpants and a t-shirt, something she would have never have pictured him wearing before, crossed legs pulled up onto the armchair he's sitting on.

"Niijima-san clearly doesn't know her limit half as well as she thinks she does." Akechi is gesturing wildly with his left arm, Loki - his persona dog - laying on his side, head on his lap, hardly disturbed. "Stubbornness must be a Niijima family trait."

"What happened," Futaba asks, "and why does Makoto not know her limits?"

Akechi offers her a weird look before explaining. "Niijima-san, despite having twice as many duties as the rest of the council, has decided to start helping Okumura-san with the rooftop garden, and continue the same duties. I had to hear she wasn't coming to today's meeting from Nishimura. She hasn’t missed a meeting in two years.”

”Is that such a bad thing,” Wakaba asks, standing up. “Poor girl hasn’t had a break in two years is what I’m hearing.”

“It's about the lack of notice,” Akechi says. “She always tells me what she’s taking care of and I’m concerned she didn’t mention anything to me. I want to help her, despite what she thinks, and I think I’ve proven myself enough over the past few years.”

“When was the last time you talked to her about her workload?”

Akechi remains silent.

Wakaba ruffles Akechi’s hair. “Talk to her, just once, to make sure she’s fine doing what she’s doing. After that, leave it alone for a bit. I’m sure if you establish your willingness to help, she will be more likely to reach out to you if she needs to.” Futaba backs away and slips back into her room without notice.

It's not hard for Futaba to get everyone's numbers again, and it's even easier to reassemble the group chat. It wasn't even hard to convince Sojiro to let her steal the first floor of LeBlanc. What's hard, however, is getting Akira to tell her anything over text. Every statement is met with a flat out denial. He doesn't recognize any of the names she's thrown out or events she's mentioned.

Currently, everyone she could get together sits in front of her. Makoto is sitting on a barstool nursing a black coffee, Haru on her left reading one of the books from the counter. Yusuke, Ann, Sumire, and Ryuji are sitting in the second booth from the door, Ann drinking her cream and sugar with coffee while Ryuji, Sumire, and Yusuke carry on some small conversation. Futaba herself paces around the first floor, circling back to her open laptop on the third table every time she sees a response from Akira.

"Do you guys want the bad news or good news first?"

"Can we go with good," Ann asks, sighing. "Today's been too much to start with the bad news."

Futaba pulls her headphones off and runs a hand through her hair. "Akira is still getting into town tomorrow."

"The bad news," Makoto prods after a beat.

"He doesn't remember anything."

"That's certainly not good," Yusuke remarks, underplaying the situation.

"Well, we know it's not related to having a persona, for one thing. Akechi couldn't remember either," Futaba murmurs, as if speaking too loudly will break her train of thought. "And things are clearly different than they should be. I mean, I went to school. I haven't done that in years."

"Akechi?" Haru tries to sound innocuous in her question, but Futaba can hear the underlying anger in her voice. "When did you reach out to him?"

"I didn't." Futaba throws up her hands in exasperation. "I live with him now."

There are several loud responses from each of her teammates, all carrying some level of shock.

"Yeah, no, apparently, he's my brother now for some reason," she grumbles. "I don't like it either, but I have to live with it until we figure out what happened."

"What if it's like Maruki's actualization," Sumire asks. "This sounds almost exactly like what happened in January."

Makoto draws her hand up to her chin to think. "I'm not quite sure that's the case. His actualization brought people back to life in the present, it didn't bring people from the present into the past. I do think that is a good place to start, though. Out of everything we've experienced, it's the closest to what's happening now."

"We need a plan," Haru adds. "Until we know what's going on, we need to figure out what we're going to do."

It takes less than 30 minutes for everyone to disperse after the meeting is over. Most of the plan - if you could even call this a plan - was conveyed over text. Futaba was skeptical of many parts of it, but she had resigned herself to the fact she didn't have as much say as she would like in the consensus. Begrudgingly, she accepted her part of the plan - befriend Akira early on.

Futaba realized far too late that she had no idea how to talk to this Akira. He was withdrawn and quiet, and he hardly even spoke when he was directly asked questions. Even her mother, as chatty as she always was, had given up on trying to get him to open up for the day. Yet Futaba insisted on not giving, which she was starting to regret.

"So, do you like Featherman?"

Akira shakes his head. Right. Futaba was the one who forced him into the Featherman fandom. How could she forget that? She sighs lightly.

"You should watch it." Futaba bristles as Akechi speaks. She had nearly forgotten he was still in the café. "But then again, since you're going to be here for a year, I doubt you'll have much choice. Futaba loves that show."

The room goes silent. Futaba can tell none of them have anything more to add. She yawns, and Akechi checks his watch.

"If you're tired you can go back home and let me finish cleaning up." Akechi grabs the spray bottle from one of the lower shelves. Futaba is fairly certain he's trying to get her to leave. "I can handle it myself."

Futaba grumbles, standing up and stretching. "Fine. But don't even think about staying late or I'll tell Sojiro."

Akechi chuckles, a sound that might sound innocent coming from anyone but a violent serial killer. "I'll make sure I'm home at a reasonable time."

"You better." The door jingles as Futaba leaves, and she hears faint voices resume as she walks out of the alleyway. She makes a mental note to listen to the recordings from her downstairs bugs.

Chapter Text

Akira stares at the muted TV watching the colors blend together as Isshiki leaves, unable to look at her as she does. Maybe he should have been nicer, asked a few questions about Featherman to keep her engaged in coversation a little longer, but the minimal conversation was nice enough, he supposed. Akechi hovers behind the counter, holding onto a spray bottle and rag, not even attempting to look busy.

The door hardly closes before Akechi is in front of the counter, watching Isshiki leave. He waits just barely long enough for Akira to see the end of Isshiki's hair to flutter out of view before he starts talking. "I didn't actually stay behind to clean. I wanted to talk to you, if you have the time."

He phrases it like a request, but Akira can tell from his tone that he's expecting him to agree. "What do you want to talk about?"

"Your criminal record."

"I didn't hit him."

"I don't doubt that," Akechi frowns, waving a hand in the air. "but that doesn't mean other people would believe you." He leans back, bracing his elbows on the counter and putting his heel on the bar of the stool behind him. "I heard people talking about your record today, which should not have happened. A teacher or someone else with access to that information leaked it."

"That's not good," Akira says plainly.

"No, it's not." He sighs. "I'm going to conduct some investigations into who could have done it, just to be certain. I already have a suspect in mind, but unfortunately, he's the volleyball coach, Kamoshida, and the school's cash cow." He tuts, running his left hand through his hair. "Proving he did it will be hard, and pursuing a case against him with the school will be even harder. Kamoshida's gotten every single complaint against him thrown out since he was hired."

"I'm not sure what you're asking me to do," Akira mutters. "Why are you telling me this?"

Akechi smirks, and Akira's fairly certain he won't like his plan. "It's simple. I need your help in collecting irrefutable evidence. Kamoshida knows I hate him and he is well aware anything he says around me will be used against him, so naturally he won't admit to anything. But he won't see you as a threat."

"So you want me to risk getting in trouble for you."

"Well it sounds bad when you phrase it like that. But yes, I want you to help me by doing the 'dirty work'." He makes air quotations around the phrase. "You would be able to get information I couldn't."

"I think I'm going to decline."

The room stills, and the air conditioning unit kicks in, making a noise that under most other circumstances he wouldn't have noticed. He counts each beat, getting lost multiple times before Akechi speaks up again.

"Sleep on it. I wouldn't ask you to get involved if I didn't think you were already involved." He leans backward on the stool, craning his neck to read the clock on the bottom of the news cycle left forgotten on the TV. He grabs the remote and clicks it off. "I don't mean to keep you late on a school night. I'm going to head out, unless you need anything else."

"I think I'm fine."

Akechi is already at the door. Why would he even bother asking if he knew I would decline? "Well then, good night Kurusu. Sleep well."

"Good night, Akechi."

Akira did not like rain in the city. Rain had never been ideal for him, keeping him stuck in once place, but in the city it was much worse. More cars meant more water splashing back at him, and more people meant less room under the awnings. He guessed Akechi didn't like the rain either, cursing to his left, muttering about his papers and being late while digging through his bag. Akechi shuffles through the largest pocket again before proclaiming, "I forgot the mini umbrellas."

He hadn't thought Isshiki was lucky, having already left to stop by the underground mall before the time he got up, but at least she wasn't going to have to run to school in the rain.

Akira shrugs, running a hand through his hair and shaking it, trying to get it to be at least a little drier. It doesn't do much. When he looks up, a blonde girl is standing to his right, catching her breath. She pulls her hood down and yells at someone further down the road. "C'mon Ryuji! Didn't you used to be a track star?"

'Ryuji', a boy with bleach blond hair, is by her side seconds later, wheezing and clutching one of his knees. "Not since Kamoshida fucked up my leg."

The girl lets out an awkward chuckle. "Right..."

Akira can feel a large shift in Akechi's usually stoic or hostile demeanor as he addresses the two. "Good morning, Takamaki-san, Sakamoto-san. Just the people I wanted to see." He gestures to Akira. "This is Kurusu Akira, he's in class 2-D. Takamaki-san aren't you in that class as well?"

"Uh, yeah," the girl, Takamaki, says. "I didn't know you knew I was in that class."

"You're a person of interest," Akechi states plainly, as if that isn't a generally concerning statement.

Takamaki doesn't have time to comment before a man in a white car pulls up, rolling down his window. He smiles, but it's one full of malice and pure egotism. "Good morning. You want me to give you a ride to school? You're gonna be late."

Akira does not like him, and he can tell Takamaki, Sakamoto, and Akechi don't like him either. It's probably Kamoshida.

"I'd rather die," she mutters, more to herself than anyone else. She shakes her head, keeping her expression as neutral as she can, though Akira can see the corners of her lips curling into a grimace. "No, I'll pass."

There's something in the man's face that darkens, and he looks Takamaki up and down. "If you say so. Any of the rest of you, then?"

Akira shakes his head as both Sakamoto and Akechi decline, one keeping his tone much more even than the other.

"Suit yourselves." What a creep. He pulls away quickly, causing some water to splash onto the sidewalk, far enough away from them that it could be considered a coincidence. Akira had full confidence it was intentional.

But there's a feeling bubbling to the surface, something that screams that he's seen this all before. The rain, that man and his car, Takamaki being asked if she wanted a ride, all exactly like he remembered them, but he's never seen any of this before. A small wave of pain hits him in his left temple, like an oncoming headache. It's fast, but it's a stabbing pain, and he feels his nose and lip scrunch upward in response.

Akechi looks over at him with mild concern. "Are you alright, Kurusu?"

"Yeah, just a headache." He pushes his glasses up, rubbing his eyes trying to work out some residual pain. "Was that Kamoshida?"

"Yeah, that's him alright," Sakamoto scoffs. "Screw that perverted asshole. Thinks of the school as his kingdom."

Takamaki rolls her eyes and nods. "Really. That son of a bitch."

Akechi seemingly has an epiphany. "Sakamoto, Takamaki, I want you to meet me on the roof after class. Kurusu, since you haven't declined my offer, I would like you to come along as well. If you all can, that is."

Akira finds no reason to decline and Sakamoto and Takamaki begrudgingly agree, falling behind Akira and Akechi, mumbling about wasting time and the "pretentious detective prince".

Nothing interesting happens as they walk. There's not great turning point in his life. The world isn't shifting beneath his feet, warping into something beyond recognition. It's normal, but it feels wrong in some way.

There's a stray cat on the roof, and Akira falls in love with him instantly. How could he not? He's a tuxedo cat with bright blue eyes and he's one of the most friendly strays he's ever met. If he believed in fate, he'd say that he was meant to meet him.

His transfixion on the cat is broken when Akechi opens the door with an echoing clang. Did he even try to keep it quiet?

"Kurusu, why is there a cat on the roof?"

"He was here when I got here." Akira runs his knuckle over the top of the cats head. He purrs and flops over onto his back. Akira beams down at him, then looks between Akechi and the cat. "Look at him, Akechi."

"I see him," Akechi rolls his eyes, placing his school bag on an empty desk. "Where are the other two?"

"Takamaki told me to go ahead without her and I haven't seen Sakamoto since this morning."

He pinches the bridge of his nose, exhaling loudly. "I don't need them for my plans to work, but having more people working with me would sure help expedite the process."

"Why them?"

"There's a couple reasons," Akechi says with a frown, "but they're not mine to discuss. All you really need to know is that they both, without a doubt, hate Kamoshida more than I do."