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Deep and rich blue catches his eye.
Akira was coming back from touring one of his potential universities when it happened, after having arrived in Tokyo with Morgana to permanently stay in the city. He actually has an apartment now; Sojiro had offered to let him stay at the cafe again, though he declined even if the nostalgia tempted him to accept. As much as he missed living there, he’d rather give his back a rest and sleep in a real bed.
He stops abruptly as he turns his head to stare at the familiar cell door, mysterious mist pouring out from between the bars separating him from the Velvet Room. A faint piano riff drifts from the space, and Akira finds himself moving forward to push the door open.
As he steps into the blue room between time and space, his skin prickles as blue flames envelop his body, changing his attire from his casual street clothes to the outfit he wore as Joker. Akira admires the return of the manifestation of his rebellion, a little disbelieving as he adjusts his gloves and sleeves. He shoves his hand into his pocket after he’s done, relaxing as he immediately finds the glove he carries around is still there.
“Welcome back, Trickster,” a soft voice greets, making Akira look up with a smile.
A young girl in blue stands in front of an unoccupied desk, moving to stand before him. She hasn't changed in appearance since Akira last saw her during his road trip with the other thieves. She still has the same long platinum hair, held back with the same blue headband adorned with a silver butterfly. In her hands is the large book Akira remembers her flipping through, memories of her summoning a persona of his choice to fuse or take coming to the forefront of his mind.
“Hi, Lavenza,” Akira says, fondness blooming in his heart as he looks at his unchanging attendant. “It’s good to see you again.”
Lavenza’s golden eyes turn into upturned crescents, a happy smile on her face as she briefly curtsies. “As I am to you, trickster,” she replies. “It's a pleasant and welcome surprise to see you here.”
Emotion wells up his chest, and Akira huffs through his nose as he looks around the Velvet Room. Even though the cells that lined the circular room have not changed, there seems to be a notable difference from the last time he was here; a dark oak door now standing on the opposite side of Akira's open cell. Despite his curiosity, he turns to look at his young attendant.
“Is there a reason why the Velvet Room is back?” he asks her, the question nagging at the back of his head ever since the moment he saw the otherworldly entrance. “Another threat we have to face, another god to kill?”
Lavenza shakes her head. “It’s nothing like that, dear trickster. Though the force that separates the Metaverse and the real world is just starting to rebuild itself stronger, there is no imminent danger that threatens both.”
Then she turns somber, looking away from the wildcard and towards the door. Beckoning Akira to follow her, she leads him to the desk that was once occupied by Igor. As he follows, Lavenza places the book she carries on the desk and wrings her hands together. She looks nervous, looking down as she tries to gather courage to speak.
“But there is a reason why the Velvet Room showed itself to you, as I have one thing I wish to tell you,” she says, haltingly as if she's hesitant to divulge, “and I apologize for not mentioning this development earlier.”
“I’m sure you had your reasons, Lavenza,” Akira reassures, leaning back onto the desk. The attendant looks up at him and smiles gratefully when he looks at her without judgement.
“You are far too kind, my trickster,” she says, “but nonetheless I feel that you deserve to know, no matter what follows.”
Before Akira can ask her what she means, the oak door opens with a creak. Akira lifts and turns his head to look, words dying on his tongue as he pushes away from the desk in shock.
Goro Akechi stands there, staring at the two of them beyond the desk. He’s wearing the blue and black of the Velvet Room, his uniform crisp and formal with a circular hat settled on top of his head. He looks like a bell boy of a high-end hotel, and the thought of that almost makes Akira laugh. He looks practically the same, as if he hasn't aged a day since the last time they met; if not for the golden hue of his eyes that pierced through his.
(Suddenly, Akira's flooded with memories; a fight in the bowels of a cognitive ship, Goro screaming as he casts call of chaos on himself, the brutal fight that followed and ending with twin gunshots behind a metal wall. A promise of a future duel, one pair of a glove that still follows him wherever he goes. Regrets and what if’s haunting him, spending time at the jazz club like a lost ghost.
A cold february night, an ultimatum given; the world or him, glaring at Akira as he throws away his life for a harsh reality. Words exchanged, the feeling of a sword driving straight through his chest as Akira promises to save the world. Quiet resignation and determination in his expression, leaving Akira to grieve for him one last time.)
Akira unconsciously takes a step toward him, eyes wide and disbelieving as he approaches Goro. Slowly, as if he’s a skittish animal that will bolt at any sudden movement. He soon stands face to face with his ghost, eyes roaming over his face in disbelief and wonder. Goro takes his scrutiny with a carefully blank face, eyes gazing steadily back at him. It isn't until Akira's hands come up to cup his face that he moves, stepping backward with a slightly alarmed expression.
“Excuse me,” Goro says, frustratingly polite, “what are you doing?”
“I just,” Akira says, swallowing down the knot forming in his throat, “I just wanted to know if you’re really…” he blinks, willing his tears away so as to not embarrass himself in front of his rival. “I just can't believe you’re here, Goro…”
Said rival furrows his eyebrows, golden eyes distrustful. “How do you know my name?”
That stops Akira short, and it feels like his stomach has dropped to his feet. “I— it’s me, Akira.” He gulps down the shock, taking a step closer to Goro. “Goro, it's me—” his voice wavers, stopping his advance when his rival stepped away from him.
“Yes, Lady Lavenza has told me much about you, trickster, but you speak as if you knew me personally .”
‘Because I do,’ Akira’s mind desperately yells, ‘we’re rivals, we fought each other and together, went through things people would never dream of—’
“Yeah,” Akira croaks instead, his throat suddenly dry, “something like that.”
“Then I regret to inform you that I don't recall us meeting before this point. Perhaps you mistook me for someone else?”
Taking a deep breath, Akira looks at the floor as he runs a shaky hand through his hair. He feels like he’s about to collapse and start laughing. Or crying. Maybe both; Akira's not sure.
“Trickster?” he hears Goro say, concern evident in his voice. It makes Akira want to sob; not ‘Kurusu’ or ‘Akira’ or even ‘Joker’ . He feels like he’s about to faint.
He hears Lavenza say something but he can’t parse the words. Akira mumbles something incomprehensible in response and, without looking up, he stumbles out of the Velvet Room and collapses against a wall to sob.
Almost a week later, Akira comes back with his hands in his pockets.
“Welcome back to the Velvet Room, trickster,” Goro says, turning away from the twin guillotines to face Akira as he approaches.
Akira almost stumbles over his feet at the greeting. ‘Ironic,’ he thinks to himself bitterly, ‘I can almost picture him sitting in Leblanc and welcoming me back home.’
Gulping as he stands before his rival, he feels the hand gripping tightly onto the glove in his pocket tremble. His eyes roam over his figure, trying to reconcile the Goro he knew with the one in front of him. Akira would have succeeded if it weren’t for the golden eyes that blink at him; not a hint of recognition in them. He looks away before the familiar burn in his chest returns.
“Hey,” Akira says, shifting his stance and lowering his head to fiddle with his bangs. He swallows past the lump in his throat. “I’m back.”
They stand in silence, the air between them awkward and tense. Akira shifts in place, wrought with nervous energy and the urge to immediately walk out of the vaguely oppressive atmosphere of the Velvet Room. While a part of him wants to look up and stare unabashedly at his rival, revel in the sight of him being alive.
A sigh startles him from his silent brooding, making Akira face Goro head-on.
Concern paints his rival’s features, a small frown on his face. “Are you feeling alright?” he asks, tilting his head to the side.
Akira almost chokes on his breath at the obvious concern. “Yeah,” he says, slightly breathless in his own incredulity, “I’m feeling… I'm fine.” Akira shrugs, and goro narrows his golden gaze.
“Apologies if I don't quite believe you, trickster,” Goro replies, a gloved hand —white, Akira’s brain whispers; making him grip tighter onto the single black glove in his pocket,— gently resting on Igor’s desk. “You were acting strange that day, so forgive me if I'm a bit concerned.”
‘Concerned?’ Akira barely represses a startled laugh, and his posture relaxes. “I’m fine,” he repeats, a small fond smile finding its way on his face, “I’m sorry that I worried you, though.”
A blush blooms beneath the skin of Goro’s cheeks and he looks away. “I was not worried ,” Goro huffs, “I was merely concerned; Lady Lavenza was worried after you left so quickly.”
The smile on Akira's face falls quickly. ‘Of course,’ he bites back the bitter words before they can escape, ‘we’re just strangers after all.’
“I talked to her before coming in and apologized,” he says instead, filtering out the leftover bite in his words and resisting the urge to add on more words that serve no purpose other than to hurt. “I didn’t mean to worry her or you that much.” Akira adds, a bit of Joker's mischievousness coming back to him.
“I wasn’t,” Goro’s quick to snap, but he nods and turns back to examine one of the twin guillotines, “But I’m glad to hear that,” he says, running a finger against the steel. “If,” he starts, hesitating on his words, “if you have business in the velvet room, I can leave and—”
“No,” Akira interrupts, shaking his head quickly, “it’s fine, I don't have anything to do here.” he huffs out a short laugh. “Not like I have any use for it, since there's no threat on the metaverse.”
“...Then why are you here, if you don’t mind me asking?” the attendant in training asks, hastily adding on to avoid sounding rude; “If you weren’t here for her or to make use of the facilities in the Velvet Room, then what for?”
At the question, Akira suddenly gets a little shy. His free hand moves up to scratch the back of his head bashfully and he feels a slight heat on his face. All of a sudden his idea seems silly and maybe a whole lot self-indulgent on his part. Who even comes back to ask your rival to hang out after having a crisis over said rival not remembering you? Akira, apparently.
Trying to push down and ignore the slow growing flush in his face, Akira straightens up and looks Goro in the eyes. “I was hoping to talk to you, actually,” he says, “maybe even hang out together.”
The trainee attendant blinks, looking surprised at the admission. Piercing gold eyes stare at grey, and Akira resists the temptation to shrink away from the attention.
“Me?'' Goro finally asks, sounding incredibly confused. Akira nods, but that doesn't alleviate the confusion on his face. “Why?”
Akira shrugs, looking nonchalant as he shifts his weight on one foot. "Is there a reason why I shouldn't?" he replies, schooling his face into a neutral expression.
Furrowing his eyebrows, Goro huffs. "Why me? Don't you have other people you'd rather wa—" he cuts himself off, blinking to himself in confusion before shaking his head, "I mean, spend time with? We don't know each other."
At that, a wry smile makes its home in Akira's mouth. "True, but I'd like to get to know you ," he replies, not quite able to remove the bitterness in his voice, “Since we’re strangers, after all.”
The attendant still doesn't look convinced, taking a pointed look around the velvet room. Akira chuckles at the action, heart clenching at how it's such a Goro-like thing to do. “Yeah, there's nothing else to do here,” he says, answering Goro’s unspoken question, “that’s why I was hoping we’d get to know each other outside.”
Immediately, Goro tenses at the mention of going outside; any trace of amusement wiped from his face. A polite smile replaces the faint smirk he had, “I'm not sure that Lady Lavenza would allow me to step outside beyond the velvet room,” he says, “denizens of the velvet room don't do well in the human realm, as I recall her telling me.”
Akira bites down the words he wants to say, the argument he wants to fire back at him. Instead, he throws up a smirk and casually approaches him. “Lucky for you,” he says as he moves to lean against the lone desk, “you have a wildcard accompanying you. And I've got experience with taking curious velvet room attendants out on tours, so you’re in good hands.”
Goro studies him for a while, a hand still against the guillotine while the other is folded behind his back. Akira lets him, lost in the familiarity of the scrutiny. He’s broken out of his reminiscing by his rival’s voice.
“You already talked to Lady Lavenza about this, didnt you,” Goro says, more of a statement than a question.
The picture he paints as he accuses him is almost similar to the one in his memories, missing only the thinking stance he does. The sharp, no-nonsense tone he has makes the smirk on Akira's face grow wider. “Guilty as charged, detective.”
The words make him pause, a faraway look taking over his features before it passes. Akira sees the change, pushing off from the desk and hovering at Goro’s side with worry. “Are you alri—” Akira asks, a hand reaching out to touch his shoulder. He’s cut off as a hand sharply waves him off, backing a step in surprise before his eyebrows furrow. “Goro—”
“I’m fine,” the attendant says firmly, pinning him with a look. “I’m just…“ he trails off, eyes gazing off to the side. He stays quiet for a few moments before he shakes his head, taking a breath. “It’s nothing; just something that comes and goes.”
“You know,” Akira says, a little concerned about him. He turns to look at the door leading out of the Velvet Room, a hand coming up to mess with his bangs. “We don't need to go outside to hangout.”
“No.”
Startled, he whips his head to look at Goro who stares back at him with a vaguely irritated expression. Blinking stupidly, Akira doesnt have a moment to speak before he cuts him off again. “Your concern is appreciated yet entirely unneeded,” Goro says, a fire backing his voice, “as I am finding myself curious about the human realm, so a trip or two would be warranted, yes?”
Akira takes a moment to process his words, before fondness fills his chest and a small stupid grin takes over his face. “Sure,” he replies, “that makes sense.”
Unfortunately, his expression irritates Goro. His eyes narrow and he stands ramrod straight, golden eyes cutting straight at Akira which he entirely ignores. “I’d appreciate it if you’d take this seriously, trickster,” he demands, brushing past him as he strides towards the door. “I rather not want an utter fool to guide me.”
‘I’m just ridiculously in love with you,’ Akira thinks to himself, taking a moment before he follows his rival.
“Yup, that's me,” he says instead, “the Fool arcana.”
Goro shoots him a look when he catches up to him, then turns his attention towards the exit with a complicated expression. His good mood sobering a bit, the trickster’s gaze flits between the attendant and the exit before a lopsided smirk returns to his face. “C’mon,” he says, grabbing Goro’s hand and pulling him forward. “It helps to have physical contact.”
The attendant makes a noise of protest and Akira turns to look at him, his steps faltering as he finds Goro with his head turned downward at their joined hands. Thinking that grabbing his hand was too much, he loosens his grip to let go when a gloved hand tightens its grip on his. When Akira looks back, Goro’s face is still hidden yet the small peeks of his ears through strands of brown hair are a faint red.
Affection rushes through his body and Akira smiles, half grateful that his rival is turned away so as to not witness what would be, frankly, embarrassing fondness on his face. He squeezes his hand back, delighting in the way that his ears redden.
Barely keeping the smile out of his face, Akira tugs on their connection and leads them out of the Velvet Room.
The first place they visit is Penguin Sniper, Akira half dragging Goro towards the building as they step out into Kichijoji’s streets. When they leave, he turns back to see his rival’s expression, being treated to the sight of the attendant taking in the early nightlife. On his face is a rare look of awe that he’s barely suppressing as they pass by shops and restaurants, and Akira looks away before his heart could burst out of his chest.
He makes sure to slow down their pace and take the longer route, though. They have the entire night to themselves, after all.
After a few turns and squeezing through growing crowds, they make it to the entrance leading up into the club. Akira’s stepping up onto the stairs when he looks back, catching Goro rubbing his temple with his free hand. As if sensing his gaze, he snaps up his head and glares at him, the grip on his hand tightening as he marches past Akira with a wordless scoff. Even though seeing Goro pissed off is a nostalgic trip for him, Akira follows obediently to avoid a fight.
Goro’s confident stride falters a bit when they arrive inside, but before Akira can step up and ask him, he’s already moving towards the billiards table with an expectant look.
“Well, trickster,” he says, tugging on their connected hands, “we are here now, are we not? Shall we play a game?”
Taking a moment to take in the picture that this sight paints, soaking in the experience of being in Penguin Sniper with Goro Akechi again, Akira swallows past a lump in his throat and laughs. He lowers his head as he retrieves his wallet, blinking back the tears that try to escape.
Mentally shaking off his nostalgia, Akira lifts his head to look straight at Goro. “Sure,” he says, regretfully letting go of his hand to pay for their time, “we have the entire night.”
Playing billiards with his rival feels like he’s transported back to that fateful year; when they were just two teens with the weight of the world on their shoulders trying to be normal together. Akira watches as Goro absently transfers the stick between his hands, using his left as he bends to line up a break shot and immediately sinks the 9 ball.
A wave of deja-vu washes over Akira, making him whistle as Goro straightens up. “Break ace,” he murmurs, walking over to collect the scattered balls.
“Oh,” Goro says, relaxing his stance and watching Akira rack the balls and place them in the breaking position. “Have I done something wrong?”
Akira shakes his head, snorting softly. ‘Of course, even when his memories are gone he’d still be good at pool,’ he thinks, shaking the rack around before settling it in its position.
“Nah, you’re fine,” he says, walking back over to stand next to him while facing away from the pool table. “You basically won back there, so congrats on that.” Leaning back against the table, he hands over the cue ball to him.
Looking deep in thought, Goro raises a hand and rests a finger on his chin, shaking his head. “Thank you, but I feel as if that one doesn't count,” he says, taking the cue ball from Akira, “it wouldn't be fair to you.”
“Don't worry about me,” Akira replies, feeling a little touched that he considered his feelings. “I like a challenge, unless you think that was a lucky break?” he smirks, subtly goading him.
As predicted, his rival tenses at the challenge before he relaxes, a competitive spark lighting in his eyes. “Very well, trickster,” he says, dangerous as if he’s gearing up to fight instead, “if that is how you see it, then I won’t be opposed to a rematch.” He positions the cue ball and takes his place, ready to line up his shot.
Akira just smirks and pushes off of the table, giving him space. He ignores how that sends a lance straight to his heart. “By all means, go for it,” he says, gesturing to the table, “just know that I won't fold that easily; I've been playing for a while with a mean partner to match.”
His rival hums instead of replying, and with a sharp clack he cleanly executes a break shot and pockets a striped ball. He shoots him a haughty look that Akira takes with blank grace, tracking him as he moves to take his place behind the cue ball. “Well, let's hope you don't disappoint me, then, trickster,” Goro declares, before taking his second shot.
They play long into the night, switching turns and rearranging the balls for another round. The crowd thins until there's a handful of people left, soft murmuring accompanying the music playing in the club. It’s only when Goro pockets the last ball, winning another round that Akira takes a glance at his watch. They must have lost track of time as they played, there’s only about an hour until the club closes.
Akira muses on this as he watches Goro stretch his body. "You play with your left hand, right?" he says, sudden and out of nowhere.
Surprised, the attendant straightens his posture before turning to Akira, tilting his head in question. "Yes," he answers, unsure of where his question is going. "Is there a problem?" There’s a hint of apprehension in his voice that Akira waves away.
"Don't worry, it's nothing like that," Akira reassures, resting a little of his weight on the cue stick in his hand. "I was just wondering if you've tried playing with your right."
"My… right?"
Akira nods, putting his hands in his pockets. "Yeah. would be an interesting challenge to mix it up, since we've got an hour left." He gestures at the club and the sparse crowd still sticking around.
The attendant considers his words, absently taking the balls from the pockets. "Hmm, it seems a bit unnecessary since I'm more proficient with my left," he replies, soft thuds and clacks accompanying his words.
“That's a shame,” Akira shrugs, looking nonchalant as he watches Goro pause in putting away the balls. He allows himself a small smile. “I’ve been playing with my left recently and I'd like to say that I'm good at it despite being right-handed.”
Silence falls between them and Akira lets the words sink in before he sighs, a little dramatic. “I guess since its late, we can—”
He’s cut off as the tapered end of a cue stick suddenly points at him, and he can only raise an eyebrow as he looks over at his rival giving him an intense stare. Keeping his chin up as he shoves his hands into his pockets, Akira smirks in satisfaction as Goro’s eyes narrow.
Goro could never turn down a challenge, after all.
“You seem awfully intent on dragging this out, trickster,” he says, not retracting his cue stick as he talks.
Akira smoothly slides out of the way of the business end of the stick, not missing the way he feels Goro’s eyes follow him. “Maybe,” he replies, “but isn't a game fun with a little handicap?”
The attendant says nothing for a while, before he pulls back his arm and swiftly turns to face the pool table. “One more game, then,” he declares, placing the cue ball with a dull clack that somehow sounds threatening. “This time with our self-imposed handicaps.”
‘Don’t disappoint me,’ is left unsaid. Smirk still in place, Akira says nothing in response and takes his position to initiate the break shot left-handed.
They go out again the next day; the second place they visit is at a quaint cake and coffee cafe nearby Penguin Sniper. It was the same place he went to with Goro before, Akira recalls before he forcefully pushes the memory down, a bittersweet taste left on the back of his tongue. This time, they arrive during the day and despite the busy crowd the cafe is not full; plenty of tables open and yet they decide to sit outside. Though with just how many people are around them, Goro’s velvet room attire attracts attention like a magnet.
So Akira had given Goro his jacket, draped over his shoulders in an attempt to make him look more normal; like a cosplayer on a break. Goro had given him a look in return, but he took the jacket with grace as he pulled it around his shoulders tighter. Akira just laughed, hoping it sounded amused.
He allows Goro to sit first, before he slides onto the seat across from him. He watches silently as the attendant peruses through the provided menu, indulging in the memory the scene invokes. He can almost see Goro in his summer outfit sitting at the other end of the table, talking about cake and popularity and disguises…
(he's back right outside the velvet room, hours before they went to the cafe. He had just arrived, hopeful with how well their hangout yesterday had gone. Lavenza wasn't outside to greet him but that didn't worry him, as she was now a part-time mentor to Goro added to her duties of being his attendant. The thought of his rival makes his heart skip a beat and his face flush, leaving him to mentally compose himself before taking a step through the blue doorway.
The first thing he notices is Lavenza speaking with Goro, a worried expression on her face. The trainee attendant stands next to her, carefully listening to her words. As if sensing his presence, he looks up and sees Akira walking through the door. He straightens up and bows, his mentor following with a curtsy as soon as she notices the subject of his attention.
“Welcome back to the Velvet Room, trickster,” he greets, a polite expression on his face. Lavenza inclines her head with a gentle smile. Akira smiles back and opens his mouth to talk when Goro abruptly turns to Lavenza.
“I must take my leave then, Lady Lavenza,” he says, giving her a short bow. “I’m sure you and your trickster have much to talk about.”
Confused and hurt, Akira takes a step forward with a hand reaching out as if to stop him. “Actually,” he starts, making Goro direct his gaze at him, “I wanted to talk to you.”
Tilting his head with bird-like confusion, the trainee raises an eyebrow. “...me?” he asks.
“Yeah, you,” Akira replies, a small laugh escaping him as he does, “I was going to ask if you wanted to go out again.” He scratches the back of his head, sheepish. “Though you sound as if you didn't enjoy our games yesterday.”
The confusion doesnt leave his face. “Out? Yesterday?” Goro turns his body to face him. “I apologize, trickster, but…” he hesitates, “I never went outside yesterday.”)
He’s taken out of his memories by a gentle voice, and he blinks away the black and white mirage of the past to focus on the present dressed in blue and gold. Akira gulps down the feelings building in his throat and soldiers past the slight burn in his eyes, suddenly feeling small and hopeless trapped in the attendant’s golden gaze.
“Have you been here before?” Goro asks, lowering the menu but not placing it on the table. “There are a lot of options, and I fear I don't know which one to pick.”
Akira grits his teeth as familiar bitterness wells up inside him again. ‘I have,’ he thinks, wanting to shout it into his rival’s passive face, ‘but you don't remember. You never do.’
Instead, he tilts his head the way he knows his glasses will reflect the light, hiding his eyes from prying gold eyes. He slouches into his seat and shrugs, projecting casualness that he doesn't feel.
He hates lying to his rival, but he can't bring himself to be truthful to the version sitting right in front of him.
“I haven’t,” Akira lies through his teeth, “you can choose something and we can share it.” He gives him a smile that doesn't reach his eyes. “It’s my treat.”
On the third, the fourth, the fifth and so on hangouts, Akira takes Goro out to different locations in Tokyo and the surrounding areas where the Velvet Room can reach. He takes him to an arcade where they play together at a co-op shooting game, their scores near identical and a far cry from the first time they played. Another day, they go to Big Bang Burger for lunch after watching Back to the Ninja at the movie theater. The sight of his rival going pale the moment the waitress places the Cosmo Tower Burger on their table and the subsequent demolition of the food in the provided time limit will be a memory he’ll always look back on fondly.
Other times when he can't keep up an impenetrable carefree mask, and when nostalgia opens a bottomless hole in his heart that threatens to drown him, he takes Goro to a more quiet place like the planetarium or the art museum. It's during these times that Akira lets the attendant lead their conversations, humming and responding at the right moments when he can't bring himself to. His companion doesn't seem to mind, or he might be perceptive of his attitude change but politely doesn't mention it at all.
Though looking at Goro, who stares up at the ceiling of the planetarium with stars barely visible in his curious golden eyes, Akira thinks that cannot be the case.
Bitterness has been a constant friend he’s carried around the past days, and it weighs down his entire being as days pass. Every other day he walks into the Velvet Room, greeted by his rival who has no memory of him. Every other day he has to shove down his feelings, his disappointment and heartbreak as he’s treated as a stranger. The moment he returns to his apartment he wonders if the effort he’s putting in is worth it if it’ll just be forgotten.
He tries to put together the Goro Akechi of the past with the Goro Akechi of the present, only to fail time and time again.
“Why am I even trying,” Akira asks to the ceiling, one night when Morgana is staying at Haru's. Memories of their last excursion, at the aquarium Goro had invited him to in the past, flashes in his mind. A memory of his rival looking so much like a normal, if not nerdy teen, overlaid with a curious attendant staring at fish as if he hadn’t seen one before.
Despair starts to choke him, but he continues to speak into the darkness. “No matter what I try, it doesn't seem to work.” So many questions burn in his mind, unanswered. It soon turns into anger; at the world and the Velvet Room, for being so unfair. To his rival. At Goro for always forgetting, helpless to his own circumstances.
At himself. For never knowing what to do. Always a step too late.
He dreams that night, when he exhausts himself enough to sleep just as the sun colors the sky purple and orange. It's not a memory tinged with nostalgia of the far past and what he’s lost, nor the recent ones where he held his tongue and kept everything ugly behind a watertight door.
It’s a memory with Lavenza, outside of the Velvet Room three days after his first encounter with his rival again.
“I’m sorry, my trickster,” she said, when Akira came by and sat by her side that night. “I tried my utmost best to rehabilitate him, but it was not enough. His affliction is rooted deep in cognition; because he was killed in the metaverse as his real self, it severed his existence from the public consciousness.” She wrung her hands together. “If my master had not rescued him before the palace collapsed completely with him in it… he might have been lost forever.”
Akira didn’t reply for a while, taking in her words. They both only existed together in silence, before Lavenza continued.
“My master had tasked me to prepare him to become an attendant of the Velvet Room before he left. As he is right now, he is very vulnerable, and the training will help him recover at the cost of his humanity. I will not say that I do not grieve for him, for I know how important he is to you.” Lavenza sighed.
“But… If I cannot help him regain his lost humanity, I have hope that you can, dear trickster.”
Surprised out of his musing, Akira had looked up at her. Lavenza stood dutifully outside the doorway, keeping watch and guarding her master’s domain. She turned to him with a small smile. “Your bond with him is strong, and perhaps it is the key to help him recover what was lost.”
“What if it isn't?” he had said, doubt clear in his voice. “What if it’s not enough, and…” He trailed off into silence, the words stuck in his throat and unshed tears burning in his eyes. He turned to look out into the streets rife with nightlife, his mind still fresh with the memory of Goro’s expression devoid of recognition.
“It is enough to have tried, my trickster. To have cared enough to help, even when it is fruitless.”
They had let the silence sit between them for a while, mutely watching the streets beyond the secluded alley where the doorway lies. Lively chatter flowed from the street, and Akira rubbed his face with his palms. A dainty hand patted his shoulder and he sighed, rising from his sitting position.
Lavenza had looked up at him with a sad expression. “I know you will do your best to help him. I just ask you to not lose hope when it seems futile.”
Akira had just stared at her and took a shaky breath. Somehow, he mustered up enough strength to give her a wavering smile. “I’ll do my best,” he promised, through the heavy weight on his heart.
It's with the memory of heading back to his apartment that Akira wakes up in his bed. His eyes are crusted and a bit irritated from the tears. His body feels sluggish and a headache throbs faintly against his temple. Even so, he forces his body out of the bed, Lavenza's words echoing in his mind.
“It is enough to have tried, my trickster. To have cared enough to help, even when it is fruitless.”
Thankful that he doesn't have any responsibilities to take care of today, it's with a tentative energy and hopefulness that Akira dresses up for another hangout.
This time around, Akira faithfully documents their excursions. They go to places like Destinyland and the Featherman popup cafe in Akihabara, where there's endless opportunities for photos or videos. He buys Goro souvenirs, giving him the prizes he wins in games despite his rival’s complaints. This sparks a competitive spirit in him, and by the end of the day they’re both drowning in prizes and laughter, carefully making their way back to the blue-colored room.
He even starts writing in a journal again, just in case the pictures and videos get corrupted. He picks out the best ones to print and add to the pages, even making Goro add his own thoughts by goading him into it as he saves the rest. And soon enough, the journal is far from the sleek notebook it once was. It bulges slightly from the added paper taped and shoved between the pages.
Physical reminders of their outings , Akira thinks to himself as he walks towards the familiar blue door. Even if Goro greets him with a polite smile and the same words as always, even if he’s resigned and dulled to the pain of being forgotten time and time again, Akira wont stop. Because these pictures and videos, the prizes and items that are on display in his apartment and in the Velvet Room…The fact that they’re still around gives Akira hope that he’s getting somewhere.
They're sitting in Jazz Jin, after what feels like a hundred dozen dates—when did it stop being hangouts and start becoming dates?— Akira had hesitated to bring Goro here at first, due to the memories still lingering around like ghosts.
There’s a singer performing tonight, and the two of them sit together as they let the music and the atmosphere settle between them. They watch the band perform, Akira taking his eyes off of them to thank Muhen, who places their ordered drinks on the table. When the man retreats with a pat on his back, Akira turns his attention to his rival, who is already staring at him with a startling intensity.
The air between them suddenly changes, and Akira sits up straight in his seat when he senses the change. Goro doesn't say anything and he waits, the silence between them broken by the singer’s cooning voice as she starts to sing.
It's only when there's an instrumental break in the song that Goro speaks, his words nearly swallowed up by the music.
“How long has this been going on?” he asks, which sounds more like a demand; sitting perfectly straight and calm. When Akira opens his mouth to answer, Goro continues. “Don’t try to deny it; I'm not an idiot and you’re not really trying hard to hide it.”
The familiar harshness brings a smile to Akira's face, albeit a little tired. “I’m not trying to hide it, really,” he replies as he slouches in his seat. “Just waiting until you realized.”
“And I have,” Goro says, crossing his arms. Akira’s heart twists at the familiar gesture. “Are you going to tell me or gawk at me like an airheaded buffoon?”
Just like he’s done a hundred times before, Akira pulls out the journal, placing it on the table while unlocking his phone to open the gallery. Goro reaches out to take the bulging notebook, flipping through pages to read the entries and occasionally stare at the pictures taped onto the paper. Akira watches as he traces fingers across familiar handwriting, likely recognizing it as his own. He places his phone in front of the attendant, watching as he scrolls through so many videos and pictures that he didn't print out.
After a moment where he appears to be processing all the information given to him, Goro gently sets down the journal on the table. Akira holds his breath, waiting for his response. In the background, the singer's voice sounds so far away as she continues singing about what-ifs.
“You’re a sentimental fool,” Goro says, looking up at Akira from under his eyelashes.
Akira laughs, watery as he relaxes. “Just like that? ” he asks, a little disbelieving, “You believe me?”
“I’m not one to deny the facts laid out before me.” Goro replies, something soft in his words and gaze.
Shaking his head, Akira stands up and extends a hand towards his rival. After deliberating for a moment that stretches on forever, Goro reaches out and allows himself to be pulled out of his seat and into an embrace. Akira holds Goro close, arms tightening around his waist as they gently sway in time to the music. The attendant's hands are light on his biceps, and Akira can feel him breathe from how close they are.
"Aren't you tired?" Goro asks, quiet as he stands still. "I'll just forget all of this the moment I go back. What you're doing is pointless in the end."
"I don't care how many times you forget," Akira says, partly muffled against Goro's neck, "I'll tell you over and over, and I'll keep making you fall in love with me again and again."
Delicate yet strong hands grip tight onto his arms, and Akira burrows further into the crook of Goro’s neck. "...You're a thickheaded fool," Goro says, tilting his head to rest gently on Akira's.
Akira laughs, a little less watery. He moves his own head to rest their foreheads together. "Your fool," he murmurs against his lips, "And I'll remind you of that every single day."