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[ one - who ]
“Who are you trying to impress?”
It’s a question that he tells himself comes out of nowhere.
That’s a lie, of course. Akechi knows exactly where it comes from. That doesn’t mean he’s prepared for it, but he’s also not completely surprised. This is what he gets for confiding in a boy he met a month ago.
Because of course it’s Kurusu who asks; it’s always Kurusu who asks. Only a month, and he’s already far too skilled at seeing right through Akechi’s fake smile and half-truths. Akechi wishes he could do the same to Kurusu, but every time he tries, the boy somehow deflects, turns the conversation right back around. Akechi, much against his better judgement, lets it slide.
He needs Kurusu to trust him. Prying too much won’t get him anywhere. Answering questions will.
So when Kurusu asks, right in the middle of a chess match no less, Akechi follows his script.
“What do you mean?” is what he says. What he means is how did you know.
Both the surface question and the real question are answered a moment later when Kurusu says, “The public already loves you. It’s more than a lot of people ever get. But you’re not satisfied with that.”
“No, I’m not,” Akechi agrees as he finally settles on moving a knight.
Kurusu watches the move with a neutral expression. “Fame was never your goal, was it?”
“I admit I’m impressed. It was not.”
“I recognize what it’s like to feel a need to prove yourself to someone,” the raven-haired boy admits. “For me, that someone was my parents. I just can’t figure out who that someone is for you.”
My parents.
Akechi’s mother is dead. Kurusu of course does not know this. His father---
“I suppose a parent wouldn’t be an inaccurate answer,” Akechi says carefully. “But it’s far more complicated than that.”
Kurusu nods once and silently moves a pawn. He’s waiting. He knows Akechi will continue.
Akechi knows he’ll continue.
“My father was a terrible man who abandoned my mother and I when he found out she was pregnant. I have since hated him for ruining our lives. But the person I would want to prove myself to the most...that would be myself, I’m afraid. I want to prove I don’t need the bastard who caused my birth, but not for him. Never for him. I want to prove to myself that I’m stronger than he was.”
Judging by the almost-frown, Kurusu disapproves. Akechi tells himself it’s fine.
There’s a lot of things he could say that Kurusu would disapprove of. Most of them are even honest.
“That’s not all there is to it,” Kurusu says. It’s not a question. It makes Akechi want to leave.
Of course, that’s never really an option with Kurusu. Leaving will only bring more questions he doesn’t want to answer.
“You caught me,” Akechi replies instead. “I want to prove I deserve to exist.”
(It’s an incredibly spur-of-the-moment decision, admitting something like that. He regrets it at once.)
Kurusu actually blinks in surprise, and for a moment Akechi considers trying to play it off as a joke. But it’s too late; the words are already out there, and judging by Kurusu’s gaze, he knows they’re the truth.
“Of course you deserve to exist,” he says softly. “You’re human. Therefore you deserve to exist. That should never be in doubt.”
Akechi resists the urge to throw something.
Instead he calmly moves a pawn of his own and says, “Thank you, Kurusu. The sentiment is appreciated.”
Kurusu looks like he wants to argue, but he chooses to remain silent.
In the end, Akechi wins the chess match. He always does.
Kurusu isn’t upset. He never is.
[ two - what ]
“What do you want from me?”
This one, Akechi doesn’t expect.
And it pisses him off, because he should expect it; he should absolutely be prepared for a question like that after the shit he pulled with the Thieves last week, with “the shit” meaning blackmailing and otherwise threatening them into helping him with Sae’s Palace so he can later betray them. He’s made it clear by now that he fully intends to disband the Thieves one way or another.
He’s made it clear by now that his only interest in Kurusu has only ever been due to the Thieves.
(It almost doesn’t sound like a lie. He knows Kurusu hopes it isn’t a lie.)
“I want justice,” Akechi says, when Kurusu asks. They’re in Leblanc again; Akechi knows he’s not welcome anymore, but Kurusu does a damn good job pretending otherwise. “You’re a means to an end.”
“Bullshit.”
Akechi frowns before he can stop himself. “Excuse me?”
Kurusu isn’t even facing him. He’s washing dishes, back visible from Akechi’s usual seat. At Akechi’s words, though, he turns around, eyes narrowed.
“You didn’t know who I was when you approached me at the TV station that day,” Kurusu says. “You said yourself you weren’t sure until months later. So don’t try to tell me our entire relationship was built on lies. Not when you trusted me enough to tell me what you wanted to prove, back in July. Not when you admitted a month later that I was the only friend you’d had in a long time. So I’ll ask again: what do you want from me?”
Well, shit.
“You have a talent for making things difficult,” Akechi mutters. Then, at normal volume: “I suppose you won’t believe me if I say I want your honesty.”
“Correct,” Kurusu says, raising an eyebrow. “I’ve given my honesty.”
Akechi glares at him. “I wasn’t the only one lying throughout our relationship. Were you ever going to tell me you were the leader of the Phantom Thieves, or was that going to remain a secret forever?”
Kurusu visibly tenses, and Akechi knows he’s struck a nerve.
“You would’ve hated me,” Kurusu finally says.
“And now you hate me. I fail to see how this is any different.” Akechi drains the rest of his coffee, then adds, “No one gets to have everything in life. Not even you.”
“This isn’t about me.”
“Then don’t ever claim you’ve given me your honesty when you used me just as much as I used you,” Akechi says flatly, and he walks out.
Kurusu tries to call him back. Akechi ignores it.
[ three - when ]
“When will you see the truth?”
The question is a shout, this time. It has to be, to get Akechi to listen. He’s been defeated twice now; his mask is broken, his spirit broken with it. A cognitive engine room isn’t an ideal place for a breakdown, but it’s not like he has a choice. He hates the world. He hates Shido. Mostly he hates himself.
But somehow....
Somehow, the Thieves don’t hate him. Or at least, they claim not to. It’s enough to keep him together for the moment. He’ll figure out what that means later.
It’s Kurusu who shouts it. It’s Kurusu, and Akechi can count the number of times he’s heard Kurusu actually shout on one hand, so he immediately looks up in surprise, and then he gets surprised again because Kurusu is crying. There are tears streaming down his cheeks; the domino mask is pushed up to his forehead, leaving his expression fully exposed.
There’s a lot in that expression. Akechi doesn’t know where to begin deciphering it.
He’s not sure how to decipher the question, either, but thankfully he doesn’t have to. Kurusu does that himself.
“It was always real to me,” Kurusu says. He kneels before Akechi, putting them at eye level again. “Yes, I wanted to gain from our relationship. I know you did too. But there was always more to that. I know you know it too. We’re rivals. Friends. And I know it’s hard to accept, but I’ve always cared about you, Akechi. Goro. You’re important to me. When will you realize that?”
Akechi’s not crying, but it’s a close thing.
“No one really cares about me,” he quietly chokes out. It’s weak even to his own ears. “It’s always a lie.”
Kurusu’s beautiful silver eyes are so filled with emotion. They’re almost too intense to look at, but Akechi forces himself to maintain eye contact. He owes Kurusu that much at least.
“I’ve always cared about you,” Kurusu says again, firmer this time. “Not just as a friend, or a rival. Goro, I love you. I love you. And I’ll do whatever it takes to help you realize you deserve that love. Alright?”
The other Thieves fade into the background, turning away to give them a moment of peace. Akechi has never been more grateful for them in his life.
“If you’re lying to me right now, I will never forgive you,” Akechi whispers. “I’ll kill you for real if I have to.”
“If I ever lie to you again,” Kurusu answers at once, “I’ll let you.”
The sudden, fierce kiss that follows isn’t necessarily a conscious decision, but Akechi knows he won’t regret it. How can he, when Kurusu kisses him back at once? When tangling his hand into those raven curls and pulling him closer suddenly feels like the only thing he wants to do for the rest of his life? When he suddenly understands with perfect clarity what it means to be really loved? When everything feels so warm and true and right?
How could he ever regret someone like Kurusu?
Akechi doesn’t want to break away, but unfortunately his lungs make that decision for him. He does need air to survive, after all. But the expression on Kurusu’s face is worth it---the brightest, most joyful smile he’s ever seen in his life. He hopes he gets to see it more often.
“I love you,” Kurusu repeats, like a promise. “I love you. I love you so much.”
And Akechi finally admits his greatest secret. “I love you too.”
Later on, Akechi won’t remember the brief discussion that follows; what he will remember is the Thieves all accepting him as one of their own, including Okumura and Sakura for some reason. He’ll remember seeing the cognitive version of himself approaching and immediately shooting it through the head before it even has a chance to speak.
He’ll remember standing in the Treasure room with a route secured, as the other Thieves are filing back out, and Kurusu steals another brief kiss.
[ four - where ]
“Where will you go once it’s over?”
Goro almost laughs at the shit timing. Akira’s the master of shit timing, though. He’s used to it.
They’re not at Leblanc; they’re not in a Palace either. He’d really thought those would be the two extremes---“homely café” and “personalized cognitive space where everything wants to kill you”---but no, apparently “top of a skyscraper fused with the collective unconscious where a false god is about to rewrite the entire world” is an option, and apparently that’s the option they’re dealing with right now, because nothing in Goro’s life has ever been anything resembling simple. The group is taking a moment to rest and prepare before going to fight said false god.
They all know there’s a very real chance they will all die. Maybe that’s why Goro decides to answer the question. Akira taught Goro how to hope again; it’s time he returns the favor.
“Away” is the obvious answer. He knows that’s not what Akira wants to hear.
“I don’t know yet,” he says truthfully. “I didn’t think I’d make it this far, but now I suppose I have options. I do have some loose ends I need to tie before I can settle down anywhere. And...I want to visit my mother. I need to, at least once. Before I can come back.”
A pause, then---“You’ll come back?”
Goro looks at Akira---really looks at him. Not at the mask or the tailcoat or the posture he always adopts in the Metaverse. He looks at the boy who challenged everything he thought he knew just because he could. The boy who memorized his coffee order in three days and could almost beat him in chess. The boy who saw the system for what it was and immediately resolved to tear it down. The boy who somehow always managed to stand for what was right, even if it made people hate him.
The boy who chose to give his love to Goro of all people, because he knew Goro could be better.
The boy who will always receive Goro’s love in return, because Goro knows he’s his other half.
“For you, Akira,” he says, “I’ll always come back. I swear it.”
Akira pulls him into a desperate kiss that almost burns with its intensity. Then they rejoin the Thieves and prepare to fight a false god.
[ five - why ]
“Why did you do it?”
It’s been four years. Half the Thieves may as well not even live in Tokyo anymore. Christmas Eve is sacred, of course---they shot a god in the face; of course it’s sacred, come on---but other than that, the only people who are in Tokyo all (or most) of the time are Goro, Akira, Futaba, and Ryuji. Makoto and Haru are in Tokyo maybe half the time. Yusuke and Ann both spend so much time traveling they barely live there.
When Akira asks, the pair of them are wrapped in blankets on the couch. Their heater broke the night before and the earliest date they can get it replaced is in three days because of how busy the company is (it was a particularly harsh freeze and several heaters have been rendered casualties). Their bedroom is now the coldest room in the house.
As always, Goro understands the unspoken parts of the question. Akira’s not asking about his decision to live together with him; he’s also not asking about Goro’s singular visit to Shido in prison, which happened about half a year ago and shockingly didn’t end with Goro wanting to commit war crimes. Akira is asking about what he did six weeks ago.
He’s asking about why Goro chose to give up his detective work.
And as much as he thought he’d have to figure out an answer, the words come easily.
“It wasn’t my path anymore.”
It’s the truth, and they both know it.
“You love it,” Akira notes.
“I do,” Goro agrees, “but it brought me where I needed to be. It brought me to real justice, and more importantly it brought me to you. I’m not the same person I was four years ago. I’ve grown past that. So I decided it was time to find a new path.”
“Did you?” Akira says. “Find a new path.”
“I’m looking at him right now,” Goro replies. “And he’s the best thing that ever happened to me.”
Akira smiles, gentle and warm. It reminds Goro of exactly why he fell in love.
“You’re the best thing that ever happened to me, too,” Akira says. It’s the last thing he says before he leans over and kisses Goro softly. Neither of them speak for a while after that.
[ plus one - will ]
“Will you marry me?”
The jazz club fades to nothingness, Akira’s only focus on the amazing man in front of him. Goro’s expression is nervous yet determined. Much to his credit, the simple silver ring in his hand (embellished with black, gray, and red hematite stones) does not shake.
Akira’s voice doesn’t shake either.
“Yes.”