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“We’re storming Maruki’s palace tomorrow, correct?”
“Yeah. This is the last confrontation.”
“You sure are dragging this out.”
Akira looked over the counter at Akechi, busy with his own cup of hot coffee. He looked so…normal. Unfettered. Enjoying the smooth taste of Leblanc brew as he always did.
“Akechi…”
“Don’t start,” Akechi snapped, his sharp eyes darting to Akira’s.
Silence followed, a dry tension that made it hard to act like everything was okay.
Because really, it wasn’t.
“Hey,” Akira began again, offering a friendly expression. “We’re stocked up on supplies and we’ve trained plenty lately. Why don’t we take today off? We could go play pool.”
The pull in Akechi’s brow loosened slightly, relaxing as he realized Akira wasn’t going to try to talk him out of things. He’d generally been respectful about Akechi’s choice, but he was also pitifully sentimental. Even without trying, Akechi was sometimes on guard, worried that Akira was going to give him some simpering, sorry look, like the owner of a wounded dog saying their last goodbyes. He didn’t need that. What he wanted from his rival was conviction, staunch confidence in his decision. This wasn’t the time to get caught up in “maybes” and “what ifs”.
“Sure, it’d be nice to take a break from all this,” Akechi agreed, finishing his coffee. “Do you want to call up the others? We could probably get a party going.”
Akira shook his head. “Nah, just you and me. Like old times.”
Akechi’s first reflex was to brush him off, but it took very little reconsidering to realize how much he actually did want to hang out with Akira one-on-one. When was the last time they’d gotten a day for themselves? After Shido’s palace, Akechi had barely gotten a chance to catch his breath with everything going on. Pool and drinks sounded pretty damn nice.
“I’m game. Nine ball?”
“No, you’ll get a break ace.”
Smirking, Akechi got to his feet. “Sounds like you’re scared, Joker.”
It was nice to see a proper smile on Akira’s face. “As if.”
—--
Clack! Clack! Clack!
Resin on resin, smooth colors spinning across green felt, smacking against the sides of the billiard table, dropping into pockets with satisfying thuds. Akira took a sip of cola, watching Akechi line up another shot, leaning over the wooden borders with practiced poise.
“Eight ball, side pocket,” he stated, eyes alight with focus.
Clack! Clack!
Easy. Seamless. Akechi was never off his game when he had something to prove.
“Nice shot,” Akira replied, approaching the table. “Best of five?”
“Best of three is plenty,” Akechi sneered.
“Darts then,” Akira countered.
Shrugging, Akechi collected his own iced tea. “Why not?”
They walked upstairs, the swell of laughter and clinking drinks on the bottom floor softening into dull, bouncing electronic music, thrumming ambiently from high speakers. Though it was only midday, it was surprisingly busy, though that was likely because it was a weekend. Or perhaps it was because everyone was in such good spirits. Most of their troubles had melted away, so they thought. Now that they had nothing to worry about, thanks to their savior, why not spend an afternoon playing bar games and enjoying the company of friends? It was such a lovely winter day, after all.
Only one dart board was occupied. Akira and Akechi each paid for a pack of colored darts at the counter, headed to the open table closest to the window. Sun filtered through thick, wispy clouds, shining bright and overshadowed in sequence, strobing slowly into the room. Setting down his pack of black darts, Akechi peeled the plastic apart, taking one out, testing the weight in his hand.
“Loser first?”
Smirking, Akira unpackaged his own red darts, taking his place in front of the board. Readying one, he tossed it forward in a sharp arc. Thirty points.
“Not a bad start,” he mused.
Forty. Fifty. He traded places with Akechi, taking a seat on one of the high stools surrounding the small glass table.
Casually, Akechi readied a dart and whipped it. Fifty. Fifty. Fifty. Didn’t break a sweat.
“You need to step up your game,” Akechi chided. “How will you fare in the palace if you can’t even match me in darts?”
The Metaverse was a different story. There, Akira possessed strength and speed completely above his usual standard, or even that of most regular humans. If he played darts in a palace, he was confident he’d be able to hit the bullseye effortlessly, and split each successive dart down the bolt.
Thirty. He also had noteworthy skill in the real world.
Fifty. For all his shortcomings, he was still the leader of the Phantom Thieves. Whether in a palace or outside of it, his friends regarded him as such, and he did what he could to meet those expectations.
Forty. Even Akechi had to respect that.
They traded places again. Black darts in hand, Akechi took aim. Fifty. Fifty. Fifty.
“Try to keep up,” he teased, allowing Akira to take his place again.
Another dart was raised in Akira’s hand. Forty. He worked hard, as hard as he had at anything, to protect and support his team. It came naturally to him–he cared about them. Fifty. In his position, he almost had to. There were some things only he could do. Forty.
Akechi took his place, readied his darts. He didn’t flinch, didn’t falter. It was almost like he wasn’t thinking about anything at all.
Fifty. Fifty. Fifty.
He had to be thinking about something. It was impossible for him not to feel the weight of tomorrow, of what that would bring. The last time they’d enter the palace. Their final confrontation with Maruki. If they lost, they’d be trapped in a world Akechi was desperate not to reside in.
And if they won?
Akira stepped up, raised a red dart.
He already knew what awaited them, knew what today was. They both did. They just weren’t directly addressing it.
Forty.
Akechi had made his decision. Even if Akira tried to work around it, tried to find some way to compromise, he knew that Akechi wouldn’t accept it. Getting to stay alive was meaningless for him if it was in a life he didn’t choose for himself.
Thirty.
Akira’s feelings didn’t matter here. It was Akechi’s choice. It was his life. Akira didn’t get to decide what he should do, he could only try to help him accomplish his goals or get out of his way.
Six.
Six?
“What’s with you?” Akechi blurted, shaking Akira from his thoughts.
“Oh uh…” Akira took a moment to drink some soda, trying to think of what to say. “I’m fine.”
Crossing his arms, Akechi frowned. He wasn’t stupid. “Don’t get caught up. If you really want to spend the day with me, take it seriously. I’m not going to have any fun if you’re just brooding the whole time.”
A tightness gripped Akira’s throat, and he nodded, giving him a tight but genuine smile.
“Good point. Is that game then?”
“I suppose. There’s no way you can catch up to me now,” Akechi conceded. He approached the board, plucking their darts from the foam, turning back to him. “Should we do another round, or are you too out of it?”
He seemed a bit annoyed, but Akira ignored his tone. “How about lunch instead? Isn’t there a new café you wanted to check out? They do the pressed sandwiches?”
Akechi pondered for a moment. “Alright, sounds good. I’m getting hungry anyway.”
—-------
They ate, chatted, even started laughing after the tension began to boil away. It was too cold to enjoy the sunshine, but they were comfortable in a café booth, trying out a number of appetizers along with the meals they’d ordered. Akechi wasn’t being sparing with his money, sampling whatever seemed interesting, even ordering things for Akira to take home to Sojiro and Morgana. By the time they left, Akira had several bags of leftovers, enough that they deemed it necessary to stop by Leblanc.
“We’ll just pop in for a moment,” Akira offered, shifting the paper bags in his arms.
Akechi was smiling, walking with him down the snow-dusted streets. “Sure, then how about the jazz club?”
“Are they performing this early?”
“What, five o’ clock? Yes, they are.”
Oh. Was it already that late? Akira felt his face fall, his vision unfocusing a bit as they walked into Leblanc, not meeting Sojiro’s eye as he approached. Akechi paid it no mind, gesturing toward the bags as Akira set them up on the counter.
“Hello, Boss. We’ve brought sweets,” he greeted.
“Oh, hey you two,” Sojiro replied, wearing a warm smile. “Hope the cold isn’t getting to you.”
“It’s not too bad outside,” Akira noted. “The sun is shining, at least.”
“We’ll likely stop by the bathhouse later tonight anyway,” Akechi added.
Chuckling, Sojiro took the paper bags, peering into one of them. “Thanks! I’m a big fan of raspberry.” He carried the desserts into the back kitchen, setting them down before poking his head around the corner. “Want me to make some coffee?”
Akira shook his head. “No, we had some this morning. We actually were just about to go visit the jazz club.”
Sojiro could tell something was off in his tone. He glanced at Akechi, who seemed unbothered, and elected not to mention it. “Well, not too late, alright? You ought to make sure you’re staying rested up. What with uh…everything going on.” He inclined his head, knowingly, but not fully understanding.
“Of course,” Akechi chuckled, his expression pleasant. “Well, Joker? We have some daylight left. Let’s get going.”
Akira forced himself back to earth, pushing a playful smirk onto his face. “Yeah, sounds good.”
—-------
It was rare to see Akechi relaxing in public, even slightly. Maybe it was just the context of tonight, of why they were doing all this, but for once he was reclining back in his metal chair, closing his eyes, listening intently to the live jazz as it filled the small club. Akira found himself staring at him, the soft arch of his brow, his dark eyelashes, the comfortable way his lips were pursed as he drank in the music enveloping them. What was he thinking? Was there anything on his mind, or was he letting the cacophony sweep over him, appreciating for once that he didn’t have to think about anything? Akechi did spend a lot of time alone in this club, even before Akira had met him. Maybe this was how he gave himself a moment’s reprieve when he was overwhelmed.
Akira turned his gaze down to the glass of ice water in front of him, having had his fill of sugary drinks for the day. In a way, he was almost jealous. After tomorrow, there wouldn’t be anything for Akechi to worry about. Should they be victorious, he no longer had to concern himself with his image, his anxieties, what he regretted and what he longed for. It would all just melt away, leaving behind an empty space where he once stood. And adjacent, Akira, feeling the weight of that absence so painfully it was hard to think about.
They were only just getting to know each other.
Didn’t Akechi want a chance to make things right, or even to just live his life for himself for once? Was there really no way they could come to a compromise with Maruki? Akira gripped his glass, watching the misshapen ice cubes bob gently with the motion. Akechi had made his decision. Akira didn’t agree with it, but trying to talk him down only seemed to make him angrier, and more determined. If Akira had to choose between Akechi leaving him as a friend or an adversary, he knew which he preferred. It just made his stomach turn that he had to pick either.
“The new bass player really has some impressive finger work,” Akechi stated, taking advantage of the ending of the song and the noise dying down.
Akira glanced up, giving him a pinched smile. He had to keep it together. There was no going back now. Arguing wasn’t an option, begging and pleading and shouting wouldn’t get him anywhere. Akechi was smart enough to know how he felt about this. He didn’t need to twist his arm. All he needed to do was be what Akechi wanted him to be on the last day they had together–his rival. And whether he liked it or not, his friend.
“They are good,” Akira agreed, sipping his water. “I hope they play “Midnight on the Sea”, it’s been a long time since I’ve gotten to hear it.”
Akechi chuckled, glancing back at the band. For a fraction of a moment, Akira felt like he saw his gaze break, losing focus. There was a long, quiet pause while the performers adjusted their instruments, while people at their own tables and booths chatted, mulled around, sipped their drinks, that Akechi said nothing. He stared, and Akira stared at him, both silent, both feeling a bizarre, pointed heaviness in the air in those brief seconds.
Then the band started their next set. Akechi turned back to the table, sipped his drink, and closed his eyes again.
—-------
After night fell, they visited the bath house. They enjoyed the soothing heat of the warm water, and managed to get a good conversation going about battle tactics, grateful that they had the place to themselves. Now that they were being proactive, it was much easier to fall into a dialogue.
“We’ll need to make sure we have a well-rounded team entering the fight. I think Mona and Violet are good starting picks,” Akechi suggested.
“Right, good call,” Akira agreed. “Who’s our fourth then?”
“Me, obviously,” Akechi jabbed.
Of course he’d want first crack at Maruki. Akira couldn’t help but grin. “Just make sure you’re not getting ahead of yourself. If Mona wastes all his energy healing you, we don’t stand a chance.”
Rolling his eyes, Akechi fiddled with the tub faucet, adding some more hot water. “I did this for much longer than you all. I can manage myself just fine.”
“You only did because you had to,” Akira reminded him. “You’re part of a team now. You can lean on us the same way we can on you.”
“Yes, yes, as you keep reminding me.”
They both sighed as warmth bloomed through the bath, relaxing against the tile wall behind them. It was a relief to be able to actually plan and not just mull around abstract feelings.
Akira peered over. “I do want you in the starting lineup, though. Your Almighty abilities and strong criticals will give us an edge when we don’t know exactly what Maruki’s planning.”
An uncharacteristically fond smirk spread across Akechi’s face. “Your call, Leader. If I can say anything for all this headache, it’s been quite fun fighting with you for once.”
He was right. They at least had that to look forward to in the final confrontation. The heat of battle was something they both could get lost in, their natural element, on equal footing as rivals and as partners.
Akira wouldn’t let himself get bogged down with dread. He wanted to enjoy the time they had left together too. Maybe later, when he was alone in bed, he’d let himself get lost in these feelings. For now, he gave Akechi a playful grin.
“I’m sure you’re enjoying it. Nice not to be afraid of when I’ll take you down, isn’t it?”
“High and mighty words coming from a man I’ve killed once before.”
“Thought you killed.”
“Ah, of course. We agreed we were even, since you felt betrayed and I felt humiliated. Let’s keep that particular hatchet buried very far underground.”
“How about breakfast in the morning? There’s a great place I know that serves–”
“Enough.”
—-------
Night fell and they parted ways.
Alone, Akira walked into the cafe, locking the door behind him, trudging through the dark up to his attic bedroom. Morgana was already asleep, snuggled up beneath the comforter on the bed. Kicking off his shoes, Akira slid under the covers beside him, staring out at the floating dust motes that filled the room, illuminated by the streetlights outside his window.
It was supposed to snow tomorrow, if he remembered correctly.
Maybe if the weather was bad, they could just call the whole thing off.