Work Text:
When it comes to coursework, Akira does about the bare minimum (somehow managing to score high marks anyway), able to pay attention to lectures while taking sparse notes. He soaks up his surroundings, his observations always being managed and sorted out, picking up lots of details through inference. That’s why his book’s spine is immaculately free of any cracks, just another way for the business called education to suck you dry. He’s been idly flipping through it for the past few hours, so much so that the pages are dog-eared already, mistakenly giving others the impression he actually studies.
The delinquent doesn’t have to keep it up for long, though, as the clock ticks away closer to dismissal. Just a few more minutes, and….
“Excuse me for playing devil’s advocate, but if we were to bring up Machiavelli’s The Prince, into discussion, then the presupposed demoralised government, would, in turn…”
Sighs erupt from all corners of the lecture hall. There he is, back at it again, the debate club president Akechi Goro making the final few minutes of the afternoon classes drag on unnecessarily with his love for making everyone feel miserable—Akira, on the other hand, thinks its charm is irresistible. He’s always able to deal with Akechi’s tiresome tirades even after class hours, sighing with ease. For some inexplicable reason, he enjoys these soliloquies.
Where everyone else would murmur something like good god please not right now, Akira would instead go good god, say that again, welcoming the voice that causes inner turmoil yet serenity with its ambivalent nature—should I be hanging on every word, or should I be falling asleep with how nice it sounds?
It’s no secret Akira enjoys listening to that disgruntled drawl. Akechi’s quit being in the spotlight ever since the whole prime minister’s breakdown, and, while entering a prestigious university as promised in his interviews, has now dropped all pretences. An overachiever as always, but with reputation no longer being an issue once it lost its value, he’s been free to do and say whatever he wants, free from control like he’s always wanted.
Though time may be a construct of human perception, even the great Akechi cannot control it. The bell rings at the exact 5:00 mark, pulling Akira out of his reverie and the students out of the classroom, leaving Akira to immediately make his way over to the man of the hour. “Goro!” he calls, and can already see his frame begin to tense at the name. Akira thought it was funny, though, as that name kind of means 5-6.
“What is it now? I’m to see someone urgently, so I hope you don’t mind having to keep it short as we walk,” he demands, brisk-walking towards the staircase.
He’s really not going to give him the time of day, huh? Damn those long legs. Always keeps him on his feet, literally. But as usual, Akira can’t help but enjoy it. “Actually, I’m wondering if you know where I can find Sumi. I’ve gotta meet with her.”
Akechi bristles at that. “Hm. What makes you think I’d know that? You’re the one who enjoys her fatuous conversation starters.”
Akira immediately remembers all the occasions he sees Akechi putting up with her and helping her adjust to university, but chooses not to comment. “Well, I guess I’ll have to follow you around until I eventually run into her. You’re both in the club anyway.”
Finally, they’re at the third floor now, and Goro opens the door to the clubroom. “Hah. As you’d expect, she prioritises her gymnastics over debating, so you wouldn’t find her here. At least this time she has the prescience to find a replacement.” Looks like Akira’s got to make his way all the way back downstairs to the gymnasium to find Yoshizawa. He turns to look at Akira, but unexpectedly finds him smirking. It’s reminiscent of his trademark smug attitude as Joker, and like the card, appears on its own accord.
“Oh, so that’s what it was,” the cheeky brat resolved without elaborating any further.
"What was?" That look does not bode well.
“I guess I was supposed to meet you instead!” he explained, his expression turning into a sunny smile, like everything was set right again.
Goro’s puzzled for a moment at the change, but it soon clicks.
“So you’re who I’m working with.” Goro’s found himself in an unusual predicament. While they often found themselves on (somewhat) opposite sides with their rivalry, having to actually work together is something they have minimal experience with. Despite Joker being the leader back then, Goro was allowed to march to the beat of his own drum, free to do as he likes. It suited him just fine, but in this case, cooperation with a debate partner needs consensus and real discussion, not as spontaneous as fighting.
He can already see it. Akira would definitely dance to his own tune, hitting you left and right with points they’d never agreed on. How would Goro be able to rein that guy in? That bright smile he’s wearing is only meant to disarm him, but Goro isn’t fooled. Akira’s pretending he belongs here like before, that nothing’s out of the ordinary, that he’s some normal kid who hasn’t just been flirting with danger the hours prior. Then infuriatingly starting it again under layers of subtext instead. Doesn’t that guy ever get tired of shuffling the cards? Goro tries to convey his irritation by glaring at the incorrigible fool.
“I don’t think I can withstand the heat. You’re breaking hearts already!”
Goro scoffs and pulls out a seat. Flirting in the literal sense too, he supposes.
“Great to work with you! Please treat me well,” says the troublemaker, drumming his fingers on the chair.
How does this guy always find time to mess with him? Shouldn’t he be even busier during college? Was he playing coy knowing fully well how much of a challenge this’d become? Coordinating with this guy’s ideas would be impossible. It seems he has a plethora of free time in his hands, so to hell with it. Goro’s accepting the damn challenge and he’s going to whip this guy up into shape for the debate tomorrow, giving a syllabus that’d secure total victory.
“Well then, let’s get to it. Our topic is this: are people inherently good, or evil? We’re for the latter.” It’s an interesting topic, decided by one of the panelists, Mr. Hiruta. It’s one familiar to former Detective Prince Goro, as it’s much like justice. It isn’t black and white, nobody is truly good or evil, that’s only to describe the actions and decisions made. But, as usual, for the sake of public performance, he’ll have to present it in a monochrome light. This time, he’ll be standing on the evil corner. Considering his track record, it’ll be overwhelmingly elementary.
Speaking of elementary, Akira’s been thinking about what he said for an awfully long time, pulling the chair back and forth to balance it on its hind legs, fidgeting as if to avoid contributing to the conversation. It’s not as if the topic is incomprehensible. Akira, of all people, wouldn’t be setback by such things. So he asks.
“What are you worrying about? I don’t bite.”
Akira stops his movements, putting the chair back.
“Hmm, well…. I just can’t find myself concentrating in this atmosphere, you know?”
Oh, just that. Akira might find the academy to have too much stimuli, needlessly worrying about his friends nearby and keeping his senses sharp to intercept them, behaviour ironically mirroring those from the disciplinary committee. Akira turns to look at him, having more to say.
“So, I was thinking if I could take you somewhere close. We’ll inevitably need the energy to get in the mood, right?” he proposed.
Goro’s intrigued. Someplace other than Leblanc? It’s usually Goro who chooses where to go, so he’s to expect a surprise, it seems. Huh. Would a surprise still be a surprise if you’re expecting it to be a surprise? It’s exactly what makes the joker so interesting to follow around, moving at its own pace. “That’s fine with me, as long as the replenishments are passable.”
“Great!”
Akechi simply raises his eyebrow as they arrive at their destination. Not the reaction Akira was expecting. He was expecting something more verbal. Something like 「 A manga café, of all places? Is now really the time for your insufferable juvenile follies? 」 Or maybe even a disapproving snort.
“If you’re just about done evaluating the premises, shall we make our way inside? The weather is unforgiving this time of year.”
It’s the middle of autumn. This guy is surprisingly sensitive.
They open the doors, finding themselves in a cosy café, bookshelves abound and cubbies at the side. Akechi looks around, zeroing in on the computer stations, but Akira gestures to the counter. “Nope. We’re renting a booth.”
“Oh, we are?"
“…I’m going to rent a booth. Wait for a bit.” Akechi’s lucky Akira’s got loads to spare from his savings. At least this way, it’d be an atmosphere to finally get things rolling. While their true feelings should be obvious at this point, things have been on a standstill between them. The debate offered him an opportunity to invite Akechi out, which should segue smoothly into a comfortable mood to simply implant the idea into Akechi’s mind that he should really go out with him.
Hopefully. As the girl at the counter winks at him he sighs like it’s a daily occurrence. His attitude as Joker must’ve really desensitised the guy to flirting of any sort. He probably thinks it’s some normal part of rivalries to tease this much. Well, while the effects are irreversible, he can only move forward. As he gets dragged backwards. Right, gotta pick up the stray cat on the way.
“Sorry for the wait, buddy. Quickly now, chop chop!”
“That’s my line.”
Akechi retorted as he pulls back the curtains to their booth, looking slightly surprised at seeing the clean area and floors polished to a fault. Akira reacted that way too, the first time he came here. The cubby’s stuffed with pillows and cushions, with a small side table to place things on. The two take off their shoes and drop their bags on the floor, Akechi starting to set up his laptop and Akira fluffing up the pillows.
As Akira reclines, he asks Akechi, “Who are we up against, anyway?”
Akechi shrugs. “All I know is that they’re a representative of the nearby community college. I doubt they’re anyone famous. Or good.”
Hearing that makes Akira laugh. It’s funny popularity was the first thing that came to mind for the guy that says he doesn’t care about it. Akechi’s still engaged with the laptop, but the quiet between them isn’t intolerable. It’s nice now, that neither feel the need to fill the silence anymore. Still, Akira can’t just be passive again, so he gets up to buy some drinks.
“You lactose intolerant?”
“No,” came the brief reply.
“I’m off then, see you in a bit,” said Akira, putting on his shoes.
“Make it quick. And sweet.”
Akira does exactly that, seeing that they offered hot chocolate drinks with steamed milk. Fitting for the atmosphere and the cooling weather. And while the staff prepare it in the backrooms, Akira can tell it’s store-bought powdered packets, the drinks being served to him suspiciously quick. Well, he needs the sugar, anyway. He’s going to deal with more than that.
He thanks the one behind the counter, thankfully not that girl again, and sees Akechi’s moved his laptop from the table to the cushions, casually sitting back but tapping his fingers against his arm in wait. He reaches out his hand, grabbing one from Akira.
“Chocolate? I was expecting coffee, seeing that it’s you.”
“Come on, even I get sick of it. It’s bad for my heart.” And so are plenty of other things he’ll refrain from mentioning.
Akechi drinks from the cup quickly, and in his impatience, burns his tongue, his sputtering accompanied by Akira’s laugh. Akira takes off his glasses and tries his own, finding it’s just about right. That’s strange.
“Does that mean you’re cat-tongued?”
The grumpy cat’s still recovering, so Akira stares amused as he puts down the drink.
“What? Do you think I have a barbed tongue?” was his response.
Akira has to think for a bit about what the hell that meant. “No, no, haven’t you heard? It’s when people can’t handle hot drinks. Kind of reminds me of the takoyaki incident.”
Akechi makes a face remembering the incident, dismissing it quickly. “That may be true, but is also irrelevant. We have things to discuss. So, I suggest we argue using the Stanford prison experiment…”
It’s been a while since Akira proclaimed drinks were on him, and they’ve had their fair share of refills. Goro hasn’t been able to look at the screen for long, a headache having formed that continuously throbs as they work. He can feel his efficiency dropping, Akira having taken to manga during their break.
“You know, I think Death Note’s a really good example for this,” he claimed, tracing an image on the volume cover.
Goro sinks further into the pillows, staring at it. “Mhm? Why is that?”
Akira stops his movements, making small gestures.
“All it took was an opportunity, and Light started killing people. We all have the capacity for evil. Like the experiment you mentioned earlier.”
“Un. You’re right...” Goro’s getting tired of thinking about work. “How about you tell me something I don’t know?” he prompted, hoping for trivial things.
Akira puts the book down, so Goro has to look up at him from how he’s angled below. It’s quite tiring.
“I also heard on TV that cat-tongued people are generally clumsy with their tongues.”
Goro chuckles quietly. Sae still thinks he’s a smooth-talker despite that. Goro’s confident he doesn’t lack in any department. He could definitely tie a cherry stem, he’s done it before.
“I guess I’m an exception,” he said, his eyelids getting heavier.
Akira is the same, his eyes cast boyishly low. It looks like he’s out of it too. He’ll forgive it this time.
“Haha…you want to test that out?” Akira suggested.
Goro closes his eyes, succumbing to the pull of sleep. “Nnn…not now. I’m tired.”
It’s the next day, and the two partners are seated down on their respective side in the makeshift debate venue, the gymnasium. Akechi’s grilling Akira on the research they discussed, agitated at the lack of time. Akira thinks he should loosen up. It’s just a debate against some randoms, what could be so important about that?
“Funding,” Akechi answered, “every student needs an allowance, don’t they?”
How diabolical. Maybe Akira should sign up to be the debate club’s treasurer. But for the records to be legible, Akira’s gotta practise. He had to rush writing his cue cards after the events of the previous day (or lack thereof), and he can barely understand what each card says. There’s not enough time to fix it, so he’s reviewing their points with Akechi.
The doors somewhere behind them open, a man in an electric wheelchair with his assistant entering the building as one of the teachers hold the door open. Oh, it’s Hiruta-sensei. Akira waves in greeting, but isn’t acknowledged. He pouts, wondering if the guy on the wheelchair is one of the higher-ups, but has to do a double take at seeing the bespectacled face. No way. He takes off his glasses, looks at the guy, and nothing changes. His glasses may be fake, but that guy probably isn’t….
“Uh, Akechi…?” he taps his shoulder, getting his attention.
His partner just grunts, a signal to ask away.
“You gotta take a look at this….” Akira continued, seeing the man doesn’t stop by the audience benches and wheels closer to the other side of the stage.
Akechi takes a quick glance, muttering a curt "What," and upon seeing the guy, “…the fuck?”
“Looks like age wasn’t too kind on Maruki-san….” Akira finished for him, as the man parks right across from them.
He’s still the same as ever, sporting the same endearingly disheveled look (not as good as Akira does) as he looks almost timid under their scrutiny. Maruki’s assistant is more of a surprise, her long maroon hair framing her delicate face, the red eyes seeming to pose a question towards the two.
Akechi whispers to Akira, “That must be Rumi….” And it looks like she was the one who got better with time. She doesn’t look at all like the unresponsive woman before, answering Maruki’s calls and laughing demurely. Soon after, they’re approached by the pair, Rumi bowing and Maruki sheepishly following behind.
“Nice to see you again, Kurusu-kun, Akechi-kun,” the man greeted.
Akira returns it with “It’s been a while,” and Akechi with a deadpan “How do you do.”
“As you might’ve guessed, this is my ex-fiancée, now girlfriend, Rumi!” Maruki gestured, and Rumi giggles.
Akira would also laugh at the absurdity of the situation, but has to keep a straight face if Akechi’s reaction is anything to go by.
Maruki then asks politely, “So, I never took you for the type to enjoy debating, Kurusu-kun. What brings you here?”
“I’m just filling in for someone. Akechi’s partner dropped out,” Akira responded, and Akechi follows it up with, “I would’ve never wished for my great partner to have to drop out because of her schedule. Luckily for me, Akira freely accepted the offer as her replacement instead and we both find the experience better than we could’ve imagined.” Maruki’s probably got the point already, way back to when Akira punched the guy, but he’ll let Akechi go off. It’s fun.
Maruki takes it in stride. “Oh, is that so? Then I won’t go easy on you, as I expect great things from you two. No hard feelings?” he said, extending his hand. Akira shakes it, as Akechi and Rumi awkwardly do the same. “Good luck, Maruki-san!” Akira returned as he whirrs away.
He turns to Akechi and mirrors his grim expression. “Oh, man. We have to win this—no matter what.”
Akechi makes an unimpressed noise, “How uninspired,” he said with a small grin.
Goro’s watching closely as Akira stands in the middle of the stage, delivering the opening statement. The judges watch attentively. All eyes from the crowd are on him. Going first is a disadvantage, especially considering they are for the ‘inherently evil’ argument. Maruki will spout some rainbows and sunshine right after and get the whole crowd roaring. He’s got a reputation for that, after all. Optimism is contagious.
Akira had told him earlier right before the debate started, “Don’t worry. Maruki’s from Shujin. You think he stands a chance against us?”
“All the more reason to doubt you, really,” Goro voiced.
Akira laughed off the accusation. “And I still snagged a seat next to you, while that guy’s in community college. You should know by now, we’re just next level.”
He’s absolutely correct. There’s no need to worry at all about their skill. All they need to do is prove it.
“…And as demonstrated by Golding’s Lord of the Flies, man, left to his own devices, will descend into chaos and evil.”
Akira walks back to his seat with a modest amount of applause, posture straight as they watch Maruki turn to the audience.
“There were 130,000 organ donations last year. Man is good.
The average life expectancy of a man in a community is 23 years longer than a man who lives alone. Man is good.
And just ten minutes ago, a dapperly dressed man held the door for a man in a wheelchair. Man is good.”
That makes Goro turn to look at the judges, seeing Hiruta do the Hollywood two-handed gesture for a thank you. It seems that currying favour with the judges is a valid stratagem.
“By the end of this debate, I will prove with facts and data that man is inherently good.”
The audience cheers and applaud loudly, causing Akira to lean to Goro to whisper something. “As the away team, they’re going to be the first to present their points, huh?” Goro nods simply.
“This is going to be a long one….”
Plenty more time has passed since then, Akira impatiently tapping his foot on the floor and Goro listening intently to Maruki’s final words. He’s taken off his glasses, having gotten emotional in the middle of his delivery.
“…And as once written by German poet Franz Wickmeyer:
Snow falls from the heavens pure. We cannot blame the snow for being soiled by the Earth.
Man is good.” Maruki finished, sniffling as the audience deliver a late but encouraging applause, evidently emotional too. It makes Goro roll his eyes. Akira looks like he’s about to jump from his seat, groaning a 'finally’ as Maruki motors back to his side. Well, someone’s raring to go.
“Now, for the two-minute rebuttal.” Akira tones down his excitement, getting up after a moment, his face now stoic and serious. He stands at the middle of the stage, looking meaningfully at the audience.
“In the Stanford Prison Experiment, twenty-one out of twenty-one students, when given absolute power…
abused and tortured their fellow students.
While my competitor would liken people to pure falling snow, I would respond:
Human nature is evil, its goodness derives only from conscious activity.
I realise Maruki-san had quoted the great poet Franz Wickmeyer, but mine was only from Xunzi, one of the most greatest and revered Confucians in history.”
It’s a strong, if daring starting point, to bring up religion. But Akira goes to prove it with facts, cementing the idea that it is in human nature to be evil and that goodness is not inherent.
“Survival of the fittest wires an impulse to eliminate people into our hearts.”
“Counter-point!”
“Mother Teresa, Joan of Arc…” Maruki struggles to name more.
“Rebuttal!”
"Nuclear bombs," Goro remarked.
“Double rejoinder!”
“Organ donors!” Maruki offered. How unoriginal. It’s the same line he used for the opening statement.
“Hate crimes,” Akira named the same time Goro said “Executions.”
Maruki’s still rifling through his cue cards, Rumi looking increasingly stressed as the time ticks down to the final arguments. Both sides have exhausted their points already, so Akira and Goro have been saving their last argument, so far in-sync and doing really well. Akira’s been killing time, and directs his attention towards one of the judges, Usami.
“People are evil. They really can’t help it. Say for example…Usami-san? Didn’t you take a long time to get that braid in your hair perfect?”
Usami raises her head from the notes she’s writing. “Come again?”
“I think it looks positively stunning, by the way. Has anybody else bothered to tell you that today?” Akira asked.
Usami smiles a little. “No one else. Thank you.”
Akira dismisses it with a wave of his hand. “No need. Honestly, I never would’ve told you if it didn’t benefit me to prove my point. Man is evil. It required conscious decision for me to compliment you against my shy and evil nature, and even then, I’m only doing it for the debate.” Akira walks back to take his seat, snickering as Usami jots down notes more violently than before, and as Rumi on the other side looks flabbergasted. Maruki’s still looking to dead men’s verses for help, while Akira toes the line of ad hominem at this point. Goro laughs a little too, watching Akira let loose his blunt honesty is a treat.
Akira glimpses at Goro. “You, on the other hand. You don’t even need to try. It’s unfair,” he muttered, voice low.
Goro’s struck by how sudden it was. Akira would usually flirt, but the serious tone and honest manner is new. It’s not like he hasn’t heard it before, darling detective, pretty boy, but when Akira puts it that way, he can’t help but feel….
“Final arguments! This round will determine the winner.”
The two straighten up in their seats, and Maruki on the other side is facing them too. A tense beat passes, the opponents staring each other down as they wait for the final nail in the coffin. He turns the lever on his wheelchair to propel him forwards, the velocity increasing as he draws closer. There's no signs of stopping, so Akira stands up, about to get out of the way when Maruki suddenly pulls back the lever. The motor stops suddenly, sending Maruki barreling to their direction and Akira quickly catches him.
“Wait…the fuck?” he said, trying to drag Maruki back to the wheelchair, who is only making himself heavier.
“He hates me, and yet he caught me,” Maruki claimed, causing Akira to wince.
“Man is good.” Maruki finished, his final argument in place.
This can’t actually be happening. They had a lead! How would somebody paralysed from the waist down even get this far across the stage? Goro looks to the judges, and sees that they’re writing something down again, and their expressions tell that it was an effective argument. He has to come up with something, fast. To hell with it, if actions speak louder than words at this point, then he’ll replace the vitriol clawing its way out his lips.
He strolls up to Akira from behind and turns his head to the side, who has the most guilty look on his face, mouth parted as if to say oh shit, my bad, don’t mind before Goro chooses to throttle him. That’s not his intention anymore, and he leans down to kiss Akira. It’s tentative at first, just the brush of lips and the warmth of their shared breath. The slow realisation of the intimacy as their breaths swirl into a heady cocktail, the environment around dimmed as Goro’s hair form a closing curtain around them.
Goro takes the chance of the surreality to skim his fingers across Akira’s back, surprising him enough that he jolts a little, and finally frees his hands from the deadweight he’s carrying. Akira wraps his arms around Goro’s waist, pulling him closer in his fervour, the close proximity too much for the senses as the two close their eyes. The tension melts away just like that, both thoroughly preoccupied with the languid pace of the contact, memorising each fleeting feeling for the first time.
Goro drags his hands upwards, gently playing with Akira’s curls, making the other laugh a little. Goro can feel it against his lips, the sensation spreading a pleasant warmth from ground zero to the rest of his body, making him aware of just how fast his heart beats. The explosive feeling overtakes him, and he tugs Akira’s head back, causing him to gasp, which Goro immediately swallows down. The new sound burns itself into his memory as he finds more heat past Akira’s lips, only offset by the wetness being exchanged by their tongues, continuing to drown even as they scramble to get more.
Akira’s hands roam up his chest, probably able to feel just how affected Goro is by the continuous crash of each new taste and feeling. Goro’s grip on Akira’s hair tightens, and he chases after the reaction it elicits. Soon, like bubbles floating up to the surface, the two eventually need to pull away. He doesn’t want to, and he has to relax the tight hold he has on Akira, slowing withdrawing and coaxing him with gentle kisses on his mouth until the two resurface.
He feels Akira’s eyes open as it brushes on his skin, Goro following soon to see the colours melted into molten mercury, no doubt his own eyes are magnetic merlot, with how Akira tries to close the distance again like he’s still intoxicated on the warmth. Goro is too, wanting to dishevel more than just his face. Goro presses on Akira’s bottom lip with his thumb just because he can, delighting at the thoroughly-kissed face darkening to a red shade like his lips. He abruptly draws back to face the—likely unwilling—audience.
“He was horny, so he dropped him,” Goro declared, grasping the words slowly as his breaths attempt to stabilise.
“Man is evil.” was his final argument, ending the debate with the last word.
The judges gape, but Hiruta quickly regains his faculties, grabbing the microphone. “Akechi Goro’s group wins!”
The crowd eventually cheers, confetti erupting from god-knows-where marking the start of the celebrations. Maruki is eventually helped up to his wheelchair by Rumi, leaving the area to probably cry in the parking lot. Hiruta leaves too with a flourish, having manifested a drink saying, “Let’s take this bacchanalia outside!”
Goro turns to look at Akira, who’s grinning from ear-to-ear, high on the victory, and something else. “Want to have a drink at my place? Let’s celebrate.”
As if Goro could ever refuse. “I thought you’d never ask.”