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Maruki left, having taken the calling card with a smile and leaving Akira with a gaping void in place of his gut.
This was so different from the usual. Never before has their target been someone with... too good intentions. Never before have they discussed anything with their target; never before has their target given them a choice.
And never before has Akira even considered choices other than changing the target’s heart.
But this time was so different.
“What are you gonna do?” Morgana’s worried voice startled him out of his thoughts. He could sense his hesitancy, Akira knew. The fact he asked that question, like he understood... Like Akira actually had a choice.
“I’d like to speak with Akira,” Akechi said, sounding urgent. Obviously, he could sense it, too. Just... There’s probably going to be no understanding on Akechi’s side, though.
“Akechi...” Morgana gave them both a concerned look, his eyes lingering on Akechi’s grave—but full of resolve—face. “...Gotcha. I’ll leave the decision up to you, Akira—let me know when you’ve reached an answer.”
And then Morgana left, leaving Akira with a decision he really, really didn’t want to make. Why did it always fall on him, anyway? Why does he, a pretty nondescript teenager, have to make a choice between... saving the world from a weird reality imposed by someone who claims to have good intentions, and the life of the person he—
“...I will carve my own path for myself,” and there he is. “I refuse to accept a reality concocted by someone else, stuck under their control for the rest of my days.” Always so dramatic.
Well, the situation did call for it, to be honest.
Akira didn’t understand this... blatant disregard Akechi had for his life. But... He was probably quite biased. And if he were in Akechi’s place—alive because someone... wished for it, a trump card revealed at the last moment, intended to sway a decision to save the world—he would’ve doubtless said the same thing. Maybe he’d make it a bit less chilly, though.
But this wasn’t him. This was Akechi, and Akira had nothing to say, except for the one thing that plagued his mind since Maruki’s disclosure.
“But then, you’ll...”
“So what?” Akechi snapped. He didn’t really interrupt him; Akira wouldn’t have finished that sentence anyway.
“That’s the path I chose. All you have to do is stick to your guns and challenge Maruki,” he said, his voice and resolve unwavering. Akira felt something twist in his stomach; he swallowed over the lump in his throat. Akechi gave him an acute look, and finally, a glint of understanding appeared in his eyes. His next words completely didn’t reflect that, however.
“Or, are you really so spineless that you’d fold over some bullshit, trivial threat on my life?”
For the first time this evening, something filled the emptiness that spread throughout his body the moment he learned the truth. It was small, but it was there, and it made his next words tumble out of his mouth. It was indignation.
“This isn’t ‘trivial’!”
“It IS!”
Akira’s breath hitched. Akechi didn’t shout; he spoke so sharply and yet wearily, it was somehow much worse than shouting.
“Do you think I’d be happy with this?” continued Akechi, after regaining his composure a bit. “Being shown mercy now, of all times? I don’t want to be pitied—this isn’t something I’m debating with you! Your indecisiveness on the matter is essentially a betrayal of my wishes.”
Once again, Akira was at a loss for words. He could only listen to Akechi, the emptiness he felt growing even more, as if to relentlessly compensate for the small bit of time when it was filled, if only a little.
“I want to hear you say it out loud. What do you intend to do?” Akechi said, equally as relentless. “I won’t wait a moment longer. Answer me.”
But Akira didn’t have an answer. All he had was the emptiness, and the impending feeling of loss he would suffer no matter what kind of decision he would make.
“I don’t want to lose you.”
Akira felt his legs shake and quickly took a seat on a bar stool, in fear of collapsing. He wrung his hands and stared down at them.
The moment the words left his lips, he felt incredibly stupid. He was being so selfish. His friends—they gave up lives with the families they lost, dear friends that never should’ve been taken from them. And they all apologized to him for that, for wanting to live like they should’ve been able to live. And here was he, Akira—after having them broken out of those dream lives, not without pain on their part—considering going back to it, all because of the person that—
Akechi came over to where he sat and leaned over him. “Are you seriously considering choosing the life of a person who tried to murder you and your friends over saving the entire world from the hands of a maniac with a Messiah complex? All because of what—some brainless sentimentality?” He spat, ruthless as ever. And spot on.
He was really selfish. God, was he stupid. Despite knowing that, however, he couldn’t stop his mind from forming various excuses—that in Maruki’s reality nobody would even remember all that pain, along with the things that brought it. None of it would’ve happened—not the events that hurt everybody so, not Akechi’s crimes. His friends would be happy, he and Akechi could be happy...
Akira’s eyes glistened with welling tears. Why did it have to be so difficult?...
His silence was telling. The glint of understanding that appeared in Akechi’s eyes before was back. And this time, it seemed stronger somehow. Akira looked at him, and appealed to that small glint with all his might.
Please help me.
After all, even the heroes need saving sometimes. And it was time someone finally saved Akira.
So Akechi said, “Akira... Remember when I told you... At the jazz club. That if you’d lost it too, I would’ve slapped you awake?”
In spite of everything, Akira chuckled to himself. “Yeah. You can try. I doubt it’ll work, though I wish it would.”
At that, Akechi smirked the way only he could. It was so different from his smile that Akira had known before. But it wasn’t any less appealing; in fact, knowing that it was real Akechi had Akira feeling all funny in his stomach. He’d almost have felt it this time, too, hadn’t it been for the unrelenting emptiness he felt instead.
“You really are an interesting one,” Akechi said, probably for the millionth time. Akira furrowed his brows. He was about to ask Akechi what he was doing, why he was changing the subject and why... Was he so close?
But before Akira could as much as form a coherent sentence in his mind, Akechi put a gentle hand on his face.
Akira’s thoughts exploded. Mere minutes ago, he had barely any words to speak. Now, he had thousands of them—questions, exclamations, doubts. But what he settled for was, “That’s... a very light slap.”
And again, he felt like such an idiot, he even forgot the emptiness coiling in his stomach for a moment. But this... This was so different from before.
Akechi closed his eyes and looked like he was trying his best to stop a snarky comment escaping his mouth. He scoffed, though, but it felt almost... Endearing? Then, he opened his eyes, and there was something in them Akira couldn’t quite place. Except that they never left his.
“Well, that was quite some time ago. Now, I believe there’s a better way for me to awaken you,” Akechi spoke slowly.
At this, Akira was at a loss for words once again. His mind was empty, and he stared at Akechi with his lips parted a little. He probably looked pretty stupid right now, but he couldn’t care less. All he could do was give a little, involuntary nod.
But that was enough for Akechi.
He leaned in even closer and their lips brushed lightly. Then Akechi brought them together, decidedly.
And Akechi was kissing him.
Akira was being kissed by Akechi, and the emptiness he felt was completely gone now.
At first, he was still in shock for a moment, but it didn’t last long. He wrapped his arms around Akechi’s neck and pulled him even closer. The kiss didn’t start out particularly gently, but it was growing more and more desperate quickly. All the words, all the feelings the both of them couldn’t properly convey, went into the kiss at that moment. Akira hadn’t even noticed he was crying, until he felt Akechi’s wet, gloved hand move from his face to his neck. Akechi’s own face was dry, and Akira wondered for a second if he even had any tears left, after everything that happened in his life.
Akira stood up from the bar stool, so he could press their bodies flush against each other. Akechi made a groaning noise and clutched his shoulders tightly. Akira held his face and it was then—then, that he brushed a thumb and felt a single wet spot under Akechi’s left eye.
And it was then that Akira knew. He knew he wouldn’t be able to keep his Akechi either way. Maruki’s reality, though so tempting just seconds ago, wasn’t... real. What Akira had now, in this fleeting moment, was real, was true—real Akechi clutching his shoulder, grabbing his hair, kissing him like everything depended on it—
And it did, too.
So if this is what he would be losing anyhow, he’d rather go with his—this Akechi’s—wishes. And save the world, by the way.
They broke apart, huffing, catching their breaths, and still holding each other close. Akira touched their foreheads together and a single sob escaped him.
“I’m pathetic,” he mumbled.
“That’s true,” Akechi said with that smirk of his. “But so am I. I almost—almost, mind you—want to stay this way with you, until we have no time left.”
Akira gave him a weak smile. “You only say that because you know I’ve already made up my mind.”
“I know.” Akechi grinned and closed his eyes, their foreheads still touching.
They stayed like this for a while, close, listening to each other breathing. Then Akechi pulled away a bit, to properly look at Akira’s face.
“Let’s go back, Akira... to our true reality.”
Let’s go back... Together.
He untangled himself from Akira’s arms and stepped away, adjusting his gloves, as was in his habit. Akira shuddered at the loss of contact, wanting to reach out and pull Akechi against him, again, but he stayed in place.
“What’s a life worth in a reality that was cooked up just to satisfy someone else? I say none.”
Ah, so the grave face and chilly words were back.
Akira knew he’d miss all of it, anyway.
“We have to win this—no matter what.” Were Akechi’s words before he turned around and went for the door.
Akira looked down and clenched his fists so hard his nails dug into his skin. So that’s it. You better not go sobbing again, you idiot.
“Akira...”
Upon hearing his name—upon hearing Akechi’s voice, Akira’s head snapped up instantly. Akechi was standing at the door, with his hand on the handle; the only thing betraying his hesitancy was that barely noticeable look in his eyes, that Akira couldn’t place before.
“I truly wish we had met under different circumstances. But not in the form of reality that Maruki offers us. I...” Akechi looked away, and his hand clutched the handle tightly. “I... am incredibly sorry, without a doubt.”
Before Akira could even think of a response, he heard the door being shut, and briefly saw Akechi through the window, before he completely disappeared out of his sight, and into the night.
So Akechi left, leaving Akira with a painful resolve. But there was no emptiness this time.
No matter what happens tomorrow... I want to keep our promises. All of them.