Work Text:
There were some things a Dia couldn’t heal.
Of course, the properties of Dia-adjacent skills in the Metaverse were questionable at best, mysterious at worst. The basic theory generally prevailing is healing spells should, well, heal.
However, that wasn’t exactly the case. Anyone who entered the Metaverse and understood it knew that if a Shadow attacked them severely enough with a physical attack, they would be injured and be unable to recover with healing spells.
The only things healing spells worked on were magic injuries and minor physical ones. Magic didn’t really harm you in any way. The only thing it did was sap away your energy and feel as though you were injured. It probably has something to do with cognition and knowing it’s not real, but when something physically attacks you, you know the pain so much so you think it’s real.
And sadly, it was hard to try and dispel that feeling, and when you get seriously injured–
“Shit– Crow!”
Goro didn’t feel the slash at first. Everything sort of slowed when the Shadow ran up to him and swiped its sword across his body.
But then– the pain. Oh god the pain.
It felt like a swath of flames had begun to overtake his body. It enveloped his torso like a lava-coated hug, digging into his gut and seeping into him until all his organs melted inside his body. He was used to pain, getting majorly injured in the Metaverse multiple times before. But this– this had to be the worst.
Goro staggered backwards, gasping as he grasped at his stomach where the Shadow had slashed him. He could feel the blood seeping out of him like hot magma, sliding through his fingers and spilling onto the ground. He breathed heavily as he stared down at the wound, the pain piercing through him so many times it felt as though the Shadow was still attacking him.
He simply needed to stand up– He shouldn’t let some silly injury prevent him from–
“Jesus christ–”
Goro could hear the tell-tale signs that a Shadow had been defeated before multiple people came rushing toward him.
“Oh god… Akechi…” Kurusu mumbled as he grabbed Goro’s shoulders.
Goro immediately brushed him off, staggering backwards to try and get away from him. “Fuck– Leave me alone! I can deal with this myself!” He spat.
The world was starting to drift away– his vision was blurring and his ears were ringing. The pain was starting to numb, and he could feel himself fall backwards, but he couldn’t make out anything. He thought he could hear people screaming his codename– then his real name– and he thought he saw a flash of concerned eyes as he felt something spill out of his mouth that tasted vaguely of metal.
The only thing that was running through his mind at that moment was–
How pathetic.
—
“Will he be okay?” Akira asked, brushing his fingers along Akechi’s honey-brown hair.
Takemi sighed and shook her head. “He should recover in a week or so. I wouldn’t recommend he goes back onto the battlefield for about two, though.” She flipped up a piece of paper on her clipboard. “Although, the injuries you sustain in whatever dimension you guys travel to tend to heal a lot faster than they should, so it’s up in the air.”
Akira frowned, watching as Akechi’s face remained stagnant, as calm as he’d ever seen it. Usually, Akechi’s face was always strained as if he was holding his emotions behind a locked box. Right now, he looked as peaceful as he’d ever been laying on this cot.
“I can’t keep him here. Let alone take care of him for very long. I’m a general practitioner, not an emergency room nurse.”
“I’ll take him to my place, then.” Akira slid his arm behind Akechi’s neck and underneath his knees.
“Alright, here’s some pain medicine and fresh bandages.” Takemi handed Akira just that as he hauled Akechi from the cot, his arms already screaming in agony.
As Akira walked out of the clinic, ignoring the confused gazes of any passerby, he looked down at Akechi’s still calm face. He probably wouldn’t be able to see this expression ever again, so he decided to take it in while he could.
Pushing open Leblanc’s door, he all but bolted up the stairs to the attic and lightly dropped Akechi onto his futon. It was like a ginormous weight had been skinned off of him, and he let out a large sigh as his body finally relaxed.
Morgana’s paws tapped on the steps as he climbed up the stairs, hopping onto the futon next to Akechi and flicking his tail. “Is he doing alright?”
Akira rubbed the back of his neck. “Takemi said he should recover in two weeks or so.”
Morgana winced. “But we don’t have much time!”
Akira shook his head. “We’re just gonna have to go without him, I guess.”
Morgana scoffed. “You of all people should know how he’ll feel about that.”
Akira sighed. “Yeah…” He shook his head again, staring at Akechi’s resting face.
Akechi’s chest rose and fell gently, and his face was stagnant and calm. For once, his fists weren’t clenched, and his eyebrows weren’t furrowed. He was truly… calm. As morbid as it sounded, Akira almost didn’t want him to wake up. If Akechi was truly peaceful, why would he ever want to wake from that state?
Akira shook the thought away. That was Maruki-like thinking. He shouldn’t be having thoughts like that.
Morgana sat down, tail curling around his paws. He looked concerned for Akechi, despite his aversion to their former enemy. Well, Morgana never seemed like he disliked Akechi – more like he was simply cautious of him. He kneaded his paws into the futon as he stared at Akechi's sleeping face.
“Is something wrong?” Akira asked, sitting down on the small part of the futon that was still empty.
“No, it’s just–” Morgana shook his head. “I-It’s nothing.”
“Mona, you can just say that you're worried for him,” Akira chuckled.
Morgana looked away, embarrassed. “N-No! I’m just worried that one of our teammates is gonna be gone – that’s all.”
“Right…” Akira smirked.
He turned his head to look at Akechi once more, this time running his thumb along Akechi’s cheek, watching as he subconsciously leaned into Akira’s touch. He accepted it, cupping Akechi’s cheek and smiling softly.
Morgana made a grossed out sound and rubbed his nose idly with his paw. “You two are so gross.”
“You’re just jealous.” Akira began playing with Akechi’s hair, the soft locks kneading between his fingers nicely.
Akira didn’t notice when Morgana hopped off of the futon, as he was too preoccupied with observing Akechi’s features and taking advantage of his sleeping state. Akechi would never let him do this – He’d probably slap Akira’s hand away before any of this could happen.
Part of Akira wondered why, but another simply said Akechi had been through so much. Who knew what kinds of things he had to endure, and touch aversion was probably just one symptom of it all. Monitoring Akechi’s behaviors after – well – everything revealed just how much. The simple, snarky remarks that would quickly push people away, the constant negative remarks about himself, and the deadpan expression he now bore were just a few things that had all but told Akira that Akechi was broken.
Of course, there was probably no way to put him back together, either.
Just how many times would Akechi be torn apart and put back together?
—
Goro’s eyes fluttered open, almost immediately greeted by a bright flash of light. Great.
Rubbing the heels of his palms against his eyelids, he sat up with a groan. Almost immediately, he felt a flash of pain shoot through his abdomen, gently reminding him of what had transpired before he’d fainted. Eyes shooting open, he now saw that he was in Kurusu’s attic. Of course.
Lifting his shirt up, he saw just what he’d done for him. There were stitches lining the cut the Shadow had made, already fading into a pink due to the Metaverse’s strange way of making injuries sustained there heal faster.
“Akechi?”
Goro turned his head in the direction of Kurusu’s voice, who’d just walked up the stairs. “Kurusu.” He glared.
Kurusu frowned. “H-How are you feel–”
“How I am feeling is none of your business, Kurusu.” Goro slipped into his boots and stood up, wincing when another strike of pain flashed through him. “Now, if you’ll excuse me.”
Kurusu grabbed Goro’s shoulder before he could go down stairs. “Akechi, wai–”
Rage and irritation flashed through Goro, causing him to slap Kurusu’s hand away almost instantly. “I don’t need your pity.”
Kurusu was too soft. He was always taking care of everyone – Putting sympathy toward anything that breathed. He was too trusting – too caring. It made Goro sick.
A pained look flashed over Kurusu’s face. “I– Akechi, I just wanted to tell you that Takemi said you’ll recover in two weeks–”
“Two weeks?!” Goro spat. “We don’t have two weeks! We’re going back in tomorrow.”
Kurusu gaped. “Tomorrow?! You can’t go in tomorrow!”
“Oh, I will,” Goro hissed, “and I don’t give a shit what you have to say about it.”
He didn't need Kurusu to look after him like some helpless toddler.
Suddenly, Kurusu seemed to gain a different resolve, anger clear on his face. "Akechi, you are not going into the Palace tomorrow. End of story. You nearly died back there!"
"Did I?" Goro walked up to Kurusu, their faces now inches apart. "Because if I recall correctly, I've been exploring the Metaverse longer than you and your little friends. I have experienced much worse than that," he spat.
"I had to drag you out of the Metaverse! I had to take you to the goddamn clinic because I didn't want to have to explain to the hospital why Goro fucking Akechi had a slash wound on his goddamn stomach!" Kurusu blurted, chest heaving.
Goro simply laughed. Seeing Kurusu angry like this really was a sight. Watching that god-forsaken meek mask finally slip and show the pure rage hiding underneath was exhilarating to experience.
But then, Goro noticed tears in his eyes.
"A-Akechi… I care about you. We all care about you. All I want is for you to be happy," Kurusu choked, tears now streaming down his face. "...Why can't you just let me help you?"
Goro paused, expression deadpan.
Pathetic.
Kurusu was such a pathetic little bitch. Help? Goro didn't need help. All he needed was to take down Maruki and this god-awful fake reality would collapse, and he would be dead once more.
Dead. He would be dead, and he wouldn't have to bother the Thieves with his disgusting presence ever again.
"I don't need your help, Kurusu." Goro turned away, walking down one of the steps. "Now if you don't mind, I'll be leaving now."
"Akechi–"
Before Kurusu could utter another pity-laced word, Goro stormed down the stairs and ran out the door, ignoring Sakura's concerned look.
A blast of cold air immediately slammed into him, but thankfully he'd grabbed the coat that was laid next to the futon. He wrapped it around himself and sighed, pulling the scarf from the pocket and throwing it around his neck as he walked down the streets of Yongen-Jaya.
The calm silence was enough to cool Goro's blazing nerves, the gently falling snow adding to the mystical peace of the streets. This was probably the most empty area of Tokyo, and Goro appreciated the change from constantly bustling streets. It's why he comes here so often – even if it was against his will this time.
Trying to ignore the blazing pain in his stomach was getting increasingly more difficult, his stitches screaming in agony with each step he took.
Pathetic. Absolutely fucking pathetic. He'd been through worse – so much worse. He shouldn't be keeling over from some stupid, trivial slash wound.
He was weak. How could he let that puny Shadow get to him? How could he go as far as faint and require fucking Kurusu of all people to take care of him? They should've just left him there to take care of himself, that way he could rot and die like he should have in the first place.
It's not like they wanted their worst enemy on their team anyway.
Finally making it to the station, Goro buried his face into his scarf in an attempt to avoid recognition. It wasn't like many people were recognizing him as of late anyway. In fact, it was sort of odd how no one batted an eye at his presence.
If it had anything to do with Maruki, Goro would have to punch him in the face even harder for thinking that abandoning his life as the Detective Prince would make him "happy".
The train was crowded as always – especially since it was around three in the afternoon – so Goro had to deal with the extra shoots of pain through his gut when he was squeezed between multiple people like sardines in a tin can. He could feel himself getting dizzy from how much the pain was stabbing into him, nearly cutting him open all over again.
…Maybe he should have just stayed at Leblanc–
No. He wouldn't let Kurusu baby him. Goro could take care of himself.
Stepping onto the platform, he began walking in the direction of his apartment complex, wrapping his coat around himself when the chilling winter air hit him once again. He could feel his wound screaming, but he tried to ignore it, even as sweat rolled down his cheek despite the cold air.
“Akechi!”
Goro froze, turning around to face the voice who just called for him. As it turned out, a specific magical-talking feline was staring directly at him, tail flicking.
Goro looked around for a moment, checking to see if anyone would be suspicious of him talking to a cat. “Morgana.”
Morgana sighed, trotting forward, supposedly leading Goro somewhere. “I had to follow you all the way until you got on that train. You’re so stubborn, you know that?”
Goro shot the cat a glare, following him into an alleyway. “What do you want? Did Kurusu send you?”
Morgana shook his head. “N-No… I came here myself.” He looked away. “Akechi… you do know that we care about you, right?”
Goro clicked his tongue. Of course the cat would say something like that. “Ah yes, trying to use sympathy to bring me back to that goddamn attic?”
Morgana’s fur bristled. “No! We want you to come back so you won’t hurt yourself!”
Goro rolled his eyes. “Right. I don’t need your pity, cat.”
Morgana began to hiss. "Why are you so– Why are you like this!?"
"I don't know what you mean."
"You know exactly what I mean!"
Goro huffed and turned around. "I don't have time for this."
Morgana's claws sheathed and dug into the cement. "No! Come back here, you stupid crow!" He spat.
Goro rolled his eyes once again, and he walked off. He could practically feel Morgana's angry eyes staring in the back of his head as he did so. That goddamn cat would be the death of him.
—
Finally making his way to his apartment, he let out an exaggerated sigh, throwing his coat and scarf off, hanging them on the small hanger by his door, and kicking off his boots.
Wincing, he inhaled sharply as he grasped at his stomach. Pain seared through him like a heated metal rod being pressed against his bare skin and burning away his flesh. He felt as though he would collapse right here and bleed out on his floor, left to die in a place that had been offered to him by his bastard father. It was nothing short of pathetic.
Pulling himself up with a sharp intake of air, Goro hauled himself toward the bathroom. Of course, though, almost as soon as he stumbled through the doorway, he collapsed onto the cold tile floor. Pain shot through him at the impact, his abdomen now burning and screaming even louder.
God dammit. He needed to get up. He wasn't going to lay on the ground like some fucking toddler–
Even as he tried to push himself up, he collapsed back downward. His limbs were weak, and the amount of pain from simply standing made it feel like he was being slashed all over again. God, it was pathetic.
He wouldn’t stop pushing until he dropped–so he’d always figured– but from this point he had nowhere left to fall. The energy fully expended from him, and all that was left were the vain efforts of moving his hands in the general area of the ground until they could no longer persist in mild flailing. Finally lying nearly flat on his bathroom floor, the brunette lost the last remaining vestiges of spite in his body and went completely limp, lying unconscious in a crimson pool.
—
A contrast of textures clashed on both sides of his face to wake him; the cool breeze and warm fuzz caressing opposite cheeks. Goro rapidly blinked several times in an attempt to shock himself to full consciousness (a trick he’d learned many sleepless nights ago), but remained stuck in place as his mind processed the dual sensory experience, trying to piece together what could be happening before he showed he was awake.
His mind couldn’t quite wrap itself around to any conclusions toward the soft, slim appendage-like object seemingly wrapping itself around his right cheek. What did he have that felt like that? Not a goddamn thing. Maybe one of Kurusu’s cat toys stuck to his pant leg… through the entire journey back… fat fucking chance (He wanted to gag from the sheer sentimentality oozing from the thought). Maybe if he sat for awhile, it’d stop moving and he could figure out-
THWACK THWACK
"What the f–"
"Akechi!"
As soon as his eyes shot open, of course, he saw the goddamned cat. How many times was this thing going to follow him around?
Goro waved Morgana away from him, and the cat jumped back a few steps, flicking his tail. "I told you you should've gone back!"
Goro groaned and squeezed the bridge of his nose. "And I told you that I. Don’t. NEE-eugh!” He grasped desperately at his gut, clutching where he felt the wound burning so bad he expected it to burst.
“You’re already overdoing it, just working yourself up! Calm down, it’s not like the responsibility of making sure my team is in working order is some act of pity! I can’t have you dying on us!”
Goro spit toward a general direction that wasn’t Morgana’s, who still reflexively jumped onto the counter at the sound. “This is what I mean! Every time one of you opens your mouths, it’s either, ‘I know where you’re coming from” or ‘You can’t take care of yourself on your own,’ yet none of you will really fucking care once I do! I’ve noticed your fondness for Okumura, look her in the eyes and ask her if she thinks this world will be a better place when it happens, or why not tell Sakura-san that I’m the reason, see if he doesn’t see it through himself! I’m BLOODY tired of the lot of you condescending BASTAR-” He cut himself off once more with a hacking fit, feeling as though blood or vomit could come up at any moment.
Morgana let out a sigh – which would in most situations be characterized as over-exaggerated – shaking his head and rising in volume. “And I’m getting sick of your attitude! Weren’t you the one who said you were done being a puppet? We’re telling you over and over, now that you aren’t under Shido’s thumb, you don’t have to be our enemy!” Again, he spit. “Akechi. Grow. UP! Want to be detached but refuse to cut the strings. If you really want to die THIS damn badly, do it after you’ve kept your word!”
Somehow, Goro could make out the contortion of his face as a grimace – something he hadn’t known a cat could even do. “I-I…” Mona stumbled over himself, trying to find the words to express his immediate regret, yet the harsh words seemed to phase Goro somewhat. The usually bitter man’s irate and pained expression was gone, a blank stare looming in its place. The fact he couldn’t even force a frown proved the gears in his head were churning at max speed.
“Is this really how the case closes? I’m really going to let myself be an even bigger disappointment, prevent them from getting as much use out of me before tossing me away? Am I really just going to let myself die before I’ve accomplished even a single goal, let alone the largest? …I…”
The train of thought (as well as Morgana’s stuttering that intended to form an apology) was interrupted by the sound of footsteps belting through the apartment at a near-running speed, eliciting a sharp turn from both heads.
Goro ignored the pain in his neck and back to gawk wide-eyed out the bathroom door. “Mona, what the hell is this?!”
“How am I supposed to-” Their voices must have alerted the intruder, given Morgana was cut off by first a shadow peeking past the door frame, and then Akira Kurusu. Of course he fucking did. “Akira?!” The intensity of his gaze burned through Goro in a way the shadow never could manage, and after a moment’s pause, he barrelled toward him.
Morgana jumped. “Wait, don’t pick him up! He might’ve already reopened it but you’d probably finish the job if not.”
Kurusu stopped in his tracks, closed his eyes and took a deep nasal inhale. In and out, in and out. He nodded and opened his eyes, advancing once more in a slower and more deliberate manner. Neither of the other two really knew what to say before, nor immediately after Akira knelt down at Akechi’s side and locked him into the strongest hug he could muster without it being a veritable death hug. He dropped his head down onto Goro’s shoulder, and simply remained there, unmoving. It took a while for Goro to process what Kurusu was doing, why he couldn’t move his arms, and why he had no reprieve outside of some god granting him the mercy of death. Nevertheless, he had to try.
“Kurusu.” No response. “Kurusu. Get. Off.”
“No. You’re staying right here, where I know you’re safe. You won’t be able to stand up until you accept that you can’t do that alone every time, once you let me help you get up. Until then, I don’t move. I’ll fall asleep and probably hold on too tight for your wounds but I don’t really care, I’m not letting you do this to yourself anymore. You’ve been through so much that you probably just see as wasted time and put yourself through even more, you need to spend the time you have left better than that. You need to let us in, let yourself be happy, or you’re just always gonna be stuck here with me on the dirty floor.”
He’d never personally admit to how deeply the words pierced him, but his expressions – noted by Mona – and sudden lack of struggle (by Akira) both betrayed his last efforts in concealing it. Of course, he couldn’t let it slip before the route was secured, he couldn’t bear to see the look on Akira’s face if he knew Goro had just about two weeks anyways… Shoving the thought aside with a shake of his head, he tried to insist.
“Let me up. Now.”
Akira’s grip tightened. “No. Not until you tell me you’re going to rest.”
Goro groaned and rolled his eyes. “Kurusu–” Out of nowhere, Kurusu’s hand began to slide through Goro’s hair, sending shivers down his spine. “What are you–”
“Shhh…” Akira shushed him and continued. Goro began to untense and close his eyes, slowly melting into the inescapable embrace. "I want you to know that– that I love you, Goro."
Goro tensed up almost enough to reinjure himself, eyes shooting wide open from the dual sensation of pain and surprise. "What… What did you just say?"
"I said what I said. I love you. We all love you. No matter what you've done, we care about you. We want you to be able to move past that, to live for yourself. Ever since you've come back, I've seen a lot closer into what I always felt under the surface. Why do you think I’ve chased for so long, prodding and prying and trying desperately to give you somewhere to take off the mask, when you were primed to kill my friends for knowing me? The biting sarcasm and bluntness is honestly more enjoyable to be around than the prince act you used to put on. It feels… like you. But the downside is that you still won’t accept help, you won’t let down the walls to let me in. You need to stop reacting with such aggression when you're hurt. I can’t even begin to understand what they did to you, but they can’t now, and I won’t let it happen again. You’re allowed to have needs and give into care sometimes, Goro, and I promise you that I won’t punish you for that."
Goro sighed, flushed. Akira's hand was still combing through his hair at a calm pace as he made an effort to make eye contact..
"...Will you please let me do this for you?"
…
"Only if you tell that goddamned cat to leave."