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Like most of his problems from the prior year, this newest, most terrible problem came from his own stupid choices. Namely, Akechi would make a small mistake and only later realize the full extent to which he’d screwed himself over.
For one prominent example, a story he’d been regaled with on the team’s first trip through the clinical new layer of Mementos: Trying to casually chat with the group of teens he’d suspected of being the Phantom Thieves about a topic he’d heard while eavesdropping? A complete failure in lowering their defenses and accidentally revealed him to be the Black Mask before they’d even learned his name.
For another extremely hypothetical example, falling in love with the leader of the Phantom Thieves? Not just a terrible idea that had made assassinating the boy one of the most difficult things he’d ever done. It also made the decision to lock himself, his crazy cognitive clone, and a hoard of angry Shadows behind a watertight bulkhead door rather than risk any of Akira’s precious friends dying trying to save him far too easy.
Somehow, though? This newest one felt like the worst one yet. It wasn’t his life he was losing this time. It was something he’d thought he’d already lost with that pancakes shit: His dignity.
Last October, after Akechi had once again been the darling of the news cycle, there had been talks about him doing a television special with some famous model who’d been getting into acting lately. He hadn’t paid much attention to the name; he’d be through with his mission by the planned filming dates and the Detective Prince’s career would definitely be over. But he had looked the man up to do his due diligence and keep his cover.
He'd been hot. Obviously. He’d been a model. But, more importantly to Akechi, he kind of looked like Akira. So Akechi had an idea.
(This was the small mistake.)
Maybe it wasn’t anything special about Akira. Maybe, maybe Akira was just his type and he’d be equally into anyone who looked similar. And again, he never expected to meet the guy. So there was no issue with…fantasizing about him.
One jerk-off session later, Akechi had come to the conclusion that, while it had been fine, it still wasn’t as good as when he was thinking about his rival. Fine. Lesson learned. Akira was special to him or whatever. Akechi planned to forget about the whole endeavor. A plan that lasted him the rest of his life.
There’s a saying in the West, said during those times when you’re not throwing gloves at people you’d rather kiss: When you make a plan, God laughs. So Maruki must have been in fucking hysterics when Akechi walked into Leblanc on January 2nd and saw the absolute nightmare scenario of:
-The model he’d jerked off to once
-The first person he’d ever killed
-The most recent person he’d killed (besides himself)
-And Sojiro Sakura, whose presence didn’t really do much to make this not terrible.
After he’d casually hurried Akira out of there and gotten a recap of what he’d missed while dead, Akechi had asked what the most stand-out error with the world was. Obviously, he was referring to the dead woman in the coffee shop. Akira had, with a panic just barely contained, answered, “Morgana.”
Akechi blinked. “What?”
Akira—fearless leader of the Phantom Thieves who had laughed with his own murderer days before said murder plan over mocktails—shuddered. “That guy in Leblanc? That was Morgana.”
Yoshizawa’s phone call had come in before they’d really had time to unpack that. But in the safety of his own apartment, it crossed his mind while he sorted out all the information of the day. The implications got written down on his list of pertinent details sandwiched between multiple bullet points outlining the importance of Akira not knowing Akechi was almost certainly his wish. Akechi didn’t exactly want to blink out of existence again before stabbing that so-called therapist in the kidneys. So keeping that secret was priority one.
Easiest way to do that? Avoid Akira as much as possible.
This one was a rather concise version of his usual pattern with mistakes. Avoiding Akira obviously wasn’t going to work; he was the boy’s wish, of course Akira would want to spend time with him. The bigger problem? Akira was calling him out on it.
“You’re avoiding me.”
Akechi leveled him with a cold look. “Am I?”
“You can call it ‘brainless sentimentality’ if you want,” Akira said. They were standing outside of Penguin Sniper where Akechi had been fighting off the urge to text Akira and ask for a game of darts. It was cold tonight. That must have been why Akira had moved closer to him. To let the wall behind him block more of the wind. “But you’re weird when we’re with the Thieves too.”
“If your team would shut up about the pancakes for one damn minute, this wouldn’t be an issue,” Akechi lied.
“That’s not it either. Back on the 2nd when it was just us and Sumire, you were fine. We were good. But even when we went back in to get her, things were weird with you. So what happened?”
Well, he’d figured out he was dead. The gap in his memory had gone from confusing to horrid with the simple confirmation of Maruki’s powers. Wishes fulfilled, the dead brought back to life, his own state was all too clear. But fuck if he told Akira that.
Give him another reason, Robin Hood suggested as his mind went blank. Throw him off the trail. A misdirection in the woods can send someone far off course before they realize they’ve been tricked.
Loki chimed in, And make it fast!
Akechi could practically see Akira’s thoughts racing.
Faster!
Akira knew everything he knew. He had all the clues. He could figure it out.
Just tell him anything!
Akechi opened his mouth, saying the first thing that came to mind.
(This was when his previous choices screwed him over fully and completely.)
“I jerked off to your cat!”
A tense three seconds passed in silence.
Something Akechi remembered from a science class: When something making a noise, like a police siren, approaches you at a high speed, the sound waves get squished together, increasing the frequency and making it sound higher-pitched. That, and not embarrassment, was the reason why Akechi’s extremely quick scream of “HIS HUMAN FORM!!” came out in a screech.
Akira visibly fought a smile for a few beats of Akechi’s frantic heart.
“WHAT?!” came the actual shriek of oh fuck the cat only leaves if we’re actually hanging out—
Loki’s laughter was almost as loud; Morgana himself popped up from out of Akira’s bag, cat eyes wide.
Then the leader of the Phantom Thieves doubled over in uncontrollable laughter.
“THIS ISN’T FUNNY!” Morgana yowled.
“Sh-Should I—” Akira’s breath caught on another laugh. Akechi ground his teeth as Akira gasped for air and said, “Should I leave you two alone?!”
“NO!”
“I don’t like your fucking cat!”
“Don’t say fu—” The rest of the joke was lost to laughter once again. It might’ve been cute how Akira laughed. Freely and openly, more emotive than Akechi had ever seen from his normally collected rival. As it was, Akechi was caught between anger and angerrrrrrrrrr, a secret new level of anger he’d only just discovered that felt a lot like embarrassment but wasn’t.
“It wasn’t you,” Akechi snapped at Morgana. “Your idiotic human form was identical to an actor I—”
“Oh yeah! I remember, I saw him on Tokyo Vice!” Morgana’s tail stopped its agitated lashing. “Maruki made me look like him?”
“Apparently!”
Morgana put his front paws on Akira’s shoulder and called out over the dying laughter, “Akiraaaaa. Did Lady Ann think I was hot as a human? I don’t want it to be just Akechi!”
“It had nothing to do with you! This was months ago!!”
“Months!? Then why did you say it was to me!?”
Akira snorted and said, “Your human form was emotionally scarring to us all, Mona.” Then he flinched as Morgana dug his claws in. “Okay, okay! You were very attractive and I’m sure Ann liked it.”
Even Akechi knew Ann was a lesbian and he’d barely spent any time with the girl. Somehow, this still made the cat puff out his chest and then shoot another glare Akechi’s way.
Akira also looked Akechi’s way again finally. For the first time since Akechi’s accidentally admission. He was still smiling.
“If it helps,” Akira said, “before I knew who he was, I thought Morgana was kind of a studly guy.”
It didn’t help.
“AKIRA!!”
…It kind of helped.
“So that’s your type?”
Akira blinked. Like a cat.
Akechi crossed his arms.
Akira rolled his shoulders, making Morgana grumble. “My type?”
“The human Morgana. That’s your type.” Akechi didn’t ask this time. He wasn’t disappointed. Disappointment implied a potential outcome that wasn’t disappointing.
For some reason, Morgana huffed. His white tail tip flicked. “No way. We allll know Akira’s type.”
All Akechi’s senses went on high alert. The reason for that was unclear for a brief moment, but then his subconscious caught his conscious mind up.
He’s blu—
BLUSH!
—shing!
Yes indeed. Akira’s face was turning red before his eyes. And not in the way it had in the interrogation room, no, this time the blood was on the inside. It was…It was cute.
“Shut up, Mona,” Akira muttered a bit too loud to be stealthy.
“Nuh-uh!” Morgana grinned. “You made me sit through that whole dumb truth or dare game and I had to hear Akechi say what he said, so now I get payback! Ak—”
Payback was summarily denied as Akira twisted around and shoved the cat back into his bag and zipped it up.
Akechi watched in amusement. The tables had finally turned. He could once again get the upper hand and then get the hell out of this disaster of a conversation. When Akira got his squirming, yowling bag settled on his shoulder again, Akechi went for the kill. “What’s this about a truth or dare game?”
Akira shrugged with his unbagged shoulder. “We had a victory party last month that got a little wild. Everyone said some things we shouldn’t have said.”
“Like who your type is,” Akechi reminded.
Akira nodded. Then added with all the courage of a man who ate burgers the size of his head, “All the Phantom Thieves have jerked off to someone else on the team at some point, so you’ve really always been one of us.”
“Who did you jerk off to?”
The question left him before he even thought about it. Morgana’s screech could be heard from the other end of the street at that volume. It was still less of a clue for the Detective Prince that the redoubled blush gracing Akira’s cheeks.
Huh.
It was probably a mistake to have learned this. To know for sure that Akira like-liked him.
…But, honestly? He couldn’t have asked for a better distraction from his impending mortality.
“Want to go back to Leblanc and compare techniques?”
Even behind his glasses, Akira’s eyes were as bright as gemstones from how he smiled. “It’s a duel.”
“LET ME OUT OF THIS BAG FIRST, YOU WEIRDOS!!”