Archive of Our Own ^beta

October 27, 20XX

Dark clouds tower over Yongen-Jaya’s empty streets, an ominous ceiling sprawled above Goro’s shaken frame. Late in the night, there’s no passersby witnessing the Detective Prince’s distraught pacing, nor his tousled hair and eyes burdened with ugly brown bags. Only his reflection watches him take a deep breath, counting to ten like the sociopaths who run self-help blogs claim will calm the brain.

It doesn’t fucking work.

To run from the unknown is one thing. Goro has no qualms about protecting his own safety, particularly when it comes to abnormalities even skeptics fail to explain. But is he really being a coward over a damn high school barista?

He straightens his posture and raps on the glass of Leblanc’s entrance.

Light fills the cafe, accompanied by the muffled mutter of the cat’s inconveniences. Just yesterday Goro graced Shujin’s culture festival with his appearance, where he made a crowd of vapid teenagers coo over him and had zero embarrassing takoyaki-related incidents at all. After revealing his knowledge of the Phantom Thieves’ identities, seeing their dismayed expressions made him giddy, watching them submit to his terms is a scene he’ll never forget! Calling that cat a teammate, however, is a side effect he could do without.

“Akechi?”

Kurusu’s dressed in his sleepwear, his hair more raggedy than Goro’s own, and that cowardice comes rushing back in full force. Goro has the audacity to interrupt him at this hour, to barge into his home unannounced?

No. Kurusu is the one who should feel cornered here. To make himself vulnerable by revealing his pajamas to his rival… Joker’s blunder is almost laughable!

“Kurusu-kun, how lovely it is to see you. It’s been too long since we’ve last been acquainted, hasn’t it?”

“We played billiards two days ago.”

“And what a stimulating battle it was! Didn’t it leave you feeling electric in the aftermath?”

“Why is he talking like Yusuke?” the cat whispers from a nearby booth. So what if Goro’s exaggerating his prince persona to a nauseating degree? He'll stop at nothing if it means escaping his wretched apartment for a night.

“I kinda know what you mean,” Kurusu smirks. He folds his arms over his t-shirt, leaning against the edge of the doorway. “You think my billiards skills are stimulating?”

“Your improvement is notable compared to when we first played. Soon I may need to use my dominant hand to keep up.”

“You might have better aim, but can you do a jump shot into the pocket?”

“A jump shot? In billiards?”

“I’ll have to show you sometime.”

Goro’s unsure if a jump shot involves Kurusu jumping while taking the shot, or if he makes the cue ball itself leap across the table. He probably looks stupid either way.

Enough dawdling. Goro’s preluded his act with small talk, it’s time to rip the bandaid off.

“In a similar vein, I was in the neighborhood refining my skills at the batting cages—”

“Didn’t it close three hours ago?”

“—and I find myself perturbed by the oncoming weather. The sky indicates a storm is brewing, and I’d be remiss if I caught a cold.”

Kurusu glances at the sky above. “Yeah, those are some spooky clouds.”

“If you’d be kind enough to let me escape the rain, I’ll be out of your hair as soon as the weather allows.”

Kurusu huffs a fond breath. “Akechi, you can stay the whole night if you want to.”

“HE CAN?” the cat yowls.

Goro’s lips twitch holding back Loki’s smile. Joker allows himself to be manipulated so easily? How thrilling! He was certain Niijima was the doormat of the group!

“If you’re insisting, I’d be foolish to refuse the offer.”

“Come on in.”

Goro steps inside the homey cafe, and the cat recoils like a vampire in the presence of garlic.

“There’s not a ton of room in the attic, but we can work something out," Kurusu says as he leads Goro upstairs. He’s yet to see where Kurusu resides— a venue he assumes doubles as the Phantom Thieves’ headquarters. Is it laced with Futaba Sakura’s gadgets? Has Yusuke Kitagawa crafted a bulletin board detailing their upcoming targets? Has Haru Okumura purchased the most advanced weaponry for their arsenal?

“The couch and the bed are up for grabs. The couch is a little springy, but neither are as luxurious as what you’re used to.”

Goro gapes as he steps into Leblanc’s attic. This is what the leader of the Phantom Thieves calls home? No wonder Joker started brainwashing people— it’s no better than living in a cardboard box! Goro’s slept on floors of foster homes nicer than this. And the dust… It has to be some sort of toxin! Perhaps that’s why Kurusu willingly entertains the detective investigating his team. His brain is too deteriorated to know better.

“I’ll take the couch.”

That was the first night. Kurusu doesn’t mention that it never rained, nor that Goro clearly had an overnight bag when he arrived at the cafe. Settled on a couch as cushiony as a pile of bricks, Goro drifts into the best sleep he’s had in weeks.

October 28, 20XX

Descending the stairs the following morning is like walking on air. Childishly, Goro feels he could break out into a dance like those Destinyland princesses, twirling in a poofy dress as he greets the chirping birds of Yongen-Jaya. Stepping into the cafe, however, his cheerful mood is crushed as easily as a grape beneath a hammer.

“Akechi?!” Sakamoto squawks, utterly appalled and offended by Goro’s presence. It’s likely he detests the detective more than the cat. “The eff are you doing here?”

The other blonde standing in Leblanc’s entryway, Takamaki, stiffens, though her reaction doesn’t stem from discomfort.

“Aha, Ryuji! We should probably head to school now!”

“Huh? But I thought we were goin’ with this guy.”

Sakamoto jabs a thumb at Kurusu behind the counter.

“He seems a little busy right now! You’ll catch up to us later, right, Akira?”

“Yeah, sure.”

“We shouldn’t leave him with Akechi, right? He was prolly snoopin’ around up there!”

Sakamoto should be embarrassed to call that a whisper.

“It’s fine! Mona’s here, remember? We’ll see you at school, Akira!” Takamaki then adds in a higher octave, “You owe me 2000 yen, Futaba!”

They flee the vicinity with that.

“That was certainly a spectacle,” Goro notes to his rival-slash-barista. He’s not offended by the Phantom Thieves avoiding his company, no. If Kurusu were smarter, he would do the same.

“Sorry about them. They’re not really morning people.”

“It’s no issue at all. I’m the one intruding in your home.”

The sad inflection of his voice is incidental. Goro shifts from one foot to the next, reluctant to leave the very place he’s intruding on. He has classes to attend, an interview regarding President Okumura’s public execution, and a list of names to dispose of in Mementos. All things Sakamoto and Takamaki don’t need to worry about, things Joker doesn’t concern himself with.

Goro will be away from his apartment most of the day. He’ll be fine.

It’s not as bad during daylight, the unexplained oddities of his apartment. Occasionally Goro catches a lamp flickering without his interference, cupboards and drawers slamming shut, an obnoxious groaning seeping through the walls. But Goro will be quick; he only needs to shower and apply his makeup. He considered packing his products in his overnight bag, but he wouldn’t be caught dead letting Kurusu see the absurd shit he smothers on his face to look presentable. He still has some dignity to maintain.

“I’m more than grateful for your selfless accommodations,” he tells Kurusu. Brave, courageous. The prowess of a teenage man who has awakened to not one, but two personas. “I’ll be taking my leave now.”

“Wait!”

Goro’s brought to a pause when Kurusu slides a mug across the counter. It’s his usual blend— Goro can tell by the scent alone.

“We’re offering a deal right now,” Kurusu smirks, his typical nonchalance fitting into place again. “Our couch guests get a free cup with their stay.”

Goro’s heart rate returns to normal upon his first sip. It has just the right amount of cream, as though Kurusu used a graduated cylinder to calculate the precise measurement, and the sweetness level is as perfect as a bullseye in a dartboard.

“Is that all I am to you now?” Goro quips. “A couch guest?”

“You’re welcome to sleep over any time. I know that couch is hard to stay away from.”

“I’m sure I’ll find myself missing it soon enough.”

.

.

Tiptoeing through the halls of his apartment, there’s nowhere Goro would rather be than that shitty attic couch.

The floors are creakier lately, but perhaps it’s his paranoia heightening the sound. He’s spent countless hours deliberating what his unwanted guest might be:

• Burglar
I have nothing to fucking steal.
• Stalker
How does that explain the flickering lights? Or the cold spots I feel when the thermostat hasn’t been touched?
• Hacker
Is it even possible to hack a lightswitch?
• Hallucination
I’m fine.
• Ghost
That doesn’t make any fucking sense.

All in all, Goro hasn’t come to a deduction yet, but this sudden phenomenon has been more than an annoyance. It’s as though the walls are closing in on him as he turns the corner, and after stretching out the couch-stiffness of his spine, he takes his shower while crouched in a defensive position. He should’ve showered at Yongen’s bathhouse. He should’ve sucked it up and asked to stay another night when Kurusu offered.

…Kurusu snores in his sleep. It’s a soft drone that caught Goro by surprise considering how stoic the thief can be. A sound as deep as Joker’s laugh, more soothing than it was disruptive. Perhaps he did it on purpose, Goro thinks as he steps out of the shower. A ploy to make himself vulnerable, a scheme to make Goro feel welcome in his band of thieves. He won’t fall for it! Goro will be the one to outsmart him! Goro will laugh when he betrays him!

Goro angrily powders his face after changing into his uniform.

He has no need to escape to Leblanc tonight. He can easily survive in his apartment—everything is fine and dandy, thank you. Goro doesn’t feel as though his chest is being constricted by some invisible force, and he certainly isn’t slowly suffocating via the necktie around his throat. There’s no tremor in his fingers as he flicks mascara over his lashes, a light coat bringing the Detective Prince to life.

Bang!

A black line smears down Goro’s cheek as he jumps. The slam sounded like his refrigerator door, his fucking fridge. What kind of ghost has any interest in corporeal food?!

Goro doesn’t care. He’s sprinting out of the vicinity so fast he nearly forgets to lock his apartment door behind him, and he finishes fixing his makeup in a secluded school bathroom.

He’s sure he’ll be ready to face his apartment again this evening. Goro’s anxiousness is merely due to the surplus of caffeine he drank—once again Kurusu’s fault! Stress relief is what he needs, specifically in the form of carving through shadows until they disintegrate at his feet.

.

.

Goro slips off his face mask at the foot of his apartment complex. He’s dying for a nap after a day so physically and mentally grueling, his makeup a disaster of his formerly pristine face.

“Come on, you stupid piece of—”

With a click Goro’s briefcase pops open, and he quickly fetches his keys from his assortment of miscellaneous files. Approaching the building’s entrance, however, he hears the thump of boxes tumbling over, the shatter of glass hitting the floor, and a shriek so shrill it has Goro racing right back where he came from.

fuck no fuck no fuck no

He’d rather see Loki in the real world than deal with whatever’s lurking in his building. Waking up to Loki’s face staring down at him (if you can even call that bloodthirsty smile a face), at least Goro would know he himself is the problem. His brain finally broke, his sanity snapped in two! In a case like this, Goro can’t cast blame on the delusions of his own head.

Isn’t that fucking terrifying?

His feet carry him to the station, and he boards the train without much thought. The fluorescent lights are too bright, the commotion is intrusive even after switching lines to Yongen-Jaya. As Leblanc’s low-profile entrance comes into view, Goro is overcome with relief.

“Oh, hey Akechi.”

“Good evening, Kurusu-kun, Sakura-san.”

Goro can already feel his tension easing as he’s surrounded by a myriad of warm colors. He removes his face mask to bask in the scent of coffee and curry, an ambience he craves to bottle up and carry with him on the go.

Kurusu pauses midway through pouring water over coffee grounds. “Uh. You got a little…”

Goro freezes; he swears his skeleton could jump out of his body from the panic scorching through him. How could he forget his ruined makeup? He looks like a damn monster in a horror movie!

“Aha~!” he attempts to laugh it off. The most unconvincing laugh in the history of laughs. Who is he, Takamaki? “It seems the weather has been indecisive lately. I broke a sweat on my way here.”

It’s a shitty excuse, but there’s no way to explain black tear stains that doesn’t paint Goro as an embarrassment. It’s not his fault he cries when he casts Call of Chaos on himself—it’s involuntary! When turning yourself psychotic, shedding a few tears is to be expected! It’s not like Goro is a sad, depressed teenager who cries about his unfortunate circumstances and his utter lack of friends.

“I’m sure Ann can recommend some waterproof mascara for you to check out,” Kurusu suggests.

“That would be appreciated.”

“I’ll shoot her a text.”

“Wonderful.”

“There’s some washcloths under the sink in the bathroom,” Sakura adds.

“Thank you. I’ll go tidy myself now.”

“Mrow,” the cat says. It’s a surprisingly sympathetic meow.

Scrubbing his face clean in the bathroom, Goro forces himself to hold back real tears. It looks like a damn ballpoint pen exploded on his face.

Kurusu and Sakura… They didn’t prod, did they? They offered the opportunity to explain himself if he wished, but they didn’t push when he told a blatant lie.

Goro sighs as he lowers the washcloth, his eyes puffy from his aggressive scrub session. Leblanc is the foil to his apartment, where he constantly feels lethargic and weighed down, as though the walls have hands forcefully restraining him. Here, in the hidden gem of Yongen-Jaya, there’s no pressure weighing him down. Here, Goro can be free.

“I’ve been craving curry lately,” Goro announces as he emerges from the bathroom. “As well as coffee to accompany it, of course. If you’re not preoccupied, Kurusu-kun, a game of chess sounds wonderful. Perhaps I can make progress on my pending case files in the meantime. Ah, I see you have a new crossword! I wouldn’t mind trying my hand at it.”

Leblanc is set to close at the top of the hour. Neither Kurusu, Sakura, nor the cat point this out.

“Sounds good,” Kurusu smirks.

.

.

Time moves too hastily for Goro’s liking. Sakura announces he’s closing for the night while Kurusu and Goro are engaged in a heated chess match—which Goro easily emerges as the victor. They squeeze in a second game while the night is still young, a match Goro lets Kurusu win. It was a tactic deployed to make himself appear less threatening. Obviously.

With the cat seemingly missing from the attic, Kurusu works on his homework in peace. Goro on the other hand, stares at his case files in a state of silent chaos, his mind fixed on the anomaly of his apartment.

He’s heard nothing from his fellow residents regarding the unexplained activity. Then again, Goro would sooner keel over and die than converse with his neighbors, so that’s something of a mute point. Should he hire a psychic to investigate, or will that lead to further woes? I’ll need to return weekly to calm the spirits, Akechi-san~! I charge hourly, by the way. Can I get an autograph before I leave? My daughter is a huge fan!

No. If Goro's truly being haunted by a spirit, the last thing he needs is to fall victim to a scam.

He retrieves his phone from his pocket, nervously glancing Kurusu’s way as though afraid he can see his screen from across the room. Kurusu doesn't. He simply continues reading his textbook on his bed.

Types of ghosts, Goro types into the search bar.

A plethora of shady sites is what he’s offered, each one infected with malware no doubt. Opening the least suspicious link, he’s met by a webpage that looks like it hasn’t been updated in twenty years.

So it seems Goro is dealing with a poltergeist—if what’s in his apartment is a ghost at all. He highly doubts it’s a ghost. A metaphysical world where the manifestation of one’s psyche appears as a giant monster with magical powers? Sure. Ghosts? Don’t make him laugh!

Poltergeist cleansing near me, Goro types into the search bar. It’s better safe than sorry.

Goro closes the article with a sigh. How the hell would he gain access to the entire building? Ask their landlord? Please. Goro can hardly get his air conditioning fixed in a timely manner. He doubts their landlord will evacuate the building for a spiritual cleanse.

It would be a pointless endeavor when there is no ghost to cleanse.

“Mnnnngh.”

Kurusu stretches his arms with a prolonged yawn, seemingly having completed whatever homework he was working on. His shirt rises up his abdomen with the action, and Goro does not stare at his exposed midriff. He doesn’t wonder if his toned muscles came from practicing gymnastics with Yoshizawa or joining Sakamoto at the gym, and his head certainly does not spin when Kurusu drops his arms with a deep exhale.

Show-off.

“It’s getting late,” Goro notes. They finished dinner hours ago—two generous bowls of curry with minimal spice. There’s really no incentive to stick around.

“Can’t believe I managed to finish everything,” Kurusu grunts, his voice slightly raspy after not using it for so long. “You’re a good influence.”

“I sincerely doubt it had anything to do with me.”

“I beg to differ. That couch is starting to like you too.”

Goro lifts a brow from where he’s seating on said torture device. “The couch?”

“Yeah. It might be lonely if you leave tonight.”

Goro takes a moment to comprehend this. Kurusu is inviting him to stay over. There’s no other way to interpret the words. He’s too selfless for his own good; Goro didn’t even have to ask! A crueler man would’ve made Goro grovel on his knees for the mere opportunity to doze atop his couch.

“It’s my responsibility to keep it company in that case,” Goro preens. “So long as it can unleash me tomorrow morning.”

“It better. We have a busy day ahead of us.”

“That we do.”

With a wink, Kurusu rises from his bed to begin his nightly routine, and Goro does the same, reaching for his briefcase sitting beside the couch—

His briefcase…

Fuck! Goro forgot his overnight bag!

He was in such a panic returning to his apartment, he didn’t even run inside to gather clothes! A victim of his own cowardice, now he pays the most dire of consequences! Should he sleep in his uniform? Should he crawl back to his apartment and face the unknown entity tormenting him?

He’ll be sacrificing his sleep either way. Tomorrow the Phantom Thieves plan to infiltrate Sae’s palace, their first official mission with Goro in their ranks. It’s not a simple task to maintain his prince persona; he needs to be alert for this beginner-level infiltration. He needs to act dumb and innocent. If he doesn’t get a good night’s sleep, his entire revenge plot could come tumbling down!

“You have something to sleep in?” Kurusu asks like some kind of mind reader. A mere glance Goro’s way answers his question, finding Goro with only his briefcase in his lap. It’s too thin for clothes to fit inside, unless Goro packed fucking lingerie. “You can wear something of mine.”

Goro scoffs on instinct, concealing the sound with a cough. “Kurusu-kun, I couldn’t ask you to lend me your clothes.”

“You’re not asking. I’m offering.” Kurusu kneels beside his shelf with that and begins promptly digging through a cardboard box. A cardboard box. The storage container for his clothes is synonymous with garbage! “You looked so cute last time I dressed you up. How could I say no to a repeat?”

Last time being at that trendy little cafe in June, the place with bland, overdecorated cakes that made the perfect addition to Goro’s food blog. Kurusu messed up Goro’s hair to protect him from an unexpected fan ambush—without Goro’s permission, mind you. It was more than violating having Kurusu’s slimy, thief fingers combing against his scalp. He probably got some of his attic dust in Goro’s hair.

Wait… cute?!

“This would fit you, right?” Kurusu asks as he holds up a long sleeve shirt and sweats. Goro’s really stuck between a rock and a hard place here. Either he wears Kurusu’s clothes………… Or he risks being killed in his sleep by the invisible fiend in his apartment.

The choice is obvious, isn’t it?

“The sweatpants are a little baggy for my tastes, but it’ll do for a night.”

“Cool,” Kurusu grins. Like he’s glad to have an extra set of clothes to wash. Like he’s excited to do more laundry than usual.

Goro changes into Kurusu’s baggy clothes and sleeps like a damn baby on that couch.

October 29, 20XX

“Akechi?! You spent the night again?!”

Waking to the sun rising in the attic window, Goro’s peaceful morning is ruined by a certain yowling cat.

“It wasn’t my choice to sleep here,” he mutters. “If you didn’t want your leader to offer his couch, where were you to protest the decision?”

“I— I was with Lady Ann!”

His excuse sounds remarkably like Lady Ann’s terrible acting skills.

“I’ll be out of your hair soon enough. I have a busy schedule ahead of me.”

“Don’t forget— We’re meeting in front of the Prosecutor’s Office after school!”

Goro’s smile could easily be mistaken as a sneer. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

.

.

Goro is already at the Prosecutor’s Office when after school rolls around. Unlike the Phantom Thieves, Goro works a proper adult job in which he pretends to be a detective and takes cute pictures of pastries for his food blog. These children would know nothing about the laborious responsibilities of a teenage idol.

Deducing Sae’s palace keywords is a breeze with Goro and the younger Niijima on the team. Their mission runs smoothly as they traverse into the Metaverse, where Futaba Sakura clammers for Goro’s phone with the excitement of a child in a candy store. Apparently it’s some rare model she just had to get her greasy potato-chip-bag fingers on. She’s surprised Goro has a piece of technology so advanced, as he seems like ‘a total grandpa.’

He’s more in his element once inside the palace, where Goro pretends he’s hearing about cognition and distortion for the first time, the prodigy detective quick to comprehend the strange world. The method of changing hearts, however, is a method entirely new to Goro. Apparently the calling cards exist to serve a purpose—and how the hell was Goro supposed to know a treasure would manifest? How the hell would anyone figure that out without the help of a talking cat monster? Where the hell did the talking cat come from anyway?

But the infiltration is more than fake smiles and questioning the cat’s existence. Fighting next to Joker is thrilling, a battle of strength and flourish Goro is immediately addicted to. If a game of 701 is an adrenaline rush, demolishing shadows is an entire overdose. Joker’s smile is a taunt and encouragement blended into one, and his eyes are ever-watchful beneath his mask, drawing the best possible performance out of Robin Hood. Every time Joker dodges, his motions are accompanied with an extravagant flip. There’s no way those flips are improving his ability to fight. They must be all for show.

Goro can only imagine how ridiculous he’d look if he tried to do flips like that. What is he, a circus elephant?

After cheating their way through Sae’s casino, they leave the palace when they come across a roadblock, and Goro wishes he could watch Joker do flips for the rest of eternity.

It’s later than he’d typically leave the Prosecutor’s Office, with the sun setting and the thieves saying their goodbyes. If Goro stops by a pharmacy on his way home, he could pop enough sleeping pills to be out cold as soon as he steps inside his apartment. Better yet, he could pick up some noise-canceling headphones—

“The DVD rental store’s having a Halloween sale this week,” Kurusu notes when it’s only he, Goro, and the cat remaining. “I picked up The Running Dead this morning. Wanna watch it together?”

“You’re inviting Akechi over again?!”

“Team bonding,” Kurusu brushes off the cat.

“You’d like to watch this tonight?” Goro prods.

“Yeah, tonight. Unless you’re too scared.”

“The Running Dead is more gore than actual horror. It sounds as if you’re the one who’s too scared to watch it alone.”

Kurusu leans close, so close Goro nearly recoils out of fear of having his hair messed up again.

“Mona’s the real scaredy-cat here,” he whispers in Goro’s ear. “He could use some extra protection.”

Kurusu leans away with a grin, Goro narrowing his eyes at the sight of it.

…If he binges this zombie show with Kurusu and the cat, it minimizes the time spent in his apartment. He might even convince Kurusu to let him sleep over again.

“Fine,” Goro agrees, blithe and nonchalant. “But if he needs comforting, I’m opting myself out of any cuddling.”

.

.

The Running Dead, as it turns out, is incredibly boring.

It doesn’t have much impact knowing it’s all fake. The effects are poorly edited, and the plot might as well be nonexistent. Kurusu keeps glancing Goro’s way—perhaps to ensure Goro isn’t startled, or because he’s frightened himself—and their chairs are closer than they should be. Did he assume Goro would climb into his lap at the first sign of a jumpscare?

With Kurusu’s wandering eyes, it’s impossible to avoid his gaze when Goro erupts with a yawn.

“Tired?” the thief asks.

“There’s not much keeping me awake, honestly.”

Even the cat isn’t here to entertain him with meow-screams. He vanished the moment the show started, grumbling about going to Lady Ann’s if they insist on watching something so grotesque.

“You had a busy day, being your first time fighting shadows and all.”

“It was certainly a tiring excursion.”

“You did a great job handling them. If I didn’t know any better, I might think you’re an expert.”

“Ah. Thank you, Kurusu-kun. I couldn’t have done it without your leadership.”

“I’m happy to teach.”

There’s a palpable tension in the room, one neither of them want to break. Goro can feel the weight of it on his shoulders, he can feel it filling the crevices of his chest.

“I should be—”

“Stay over,” Kurusu interrupts. It’s not a question, but rather a statement; a demand.

Goro swallows as he nods. “Alright.”

“You can wear the clothes you wore last night. I haven’t washed them yet.”

“Wonderful.”

“And we can finish the show some other time. Tomorrow, if you want.”

Goro’s nose pinches. “Is it possible to rent something else?”

Kurusu releases a small laugh. “Thank god. That show was kinda…”

“Trash?”

“Hot garbage.”

They grin at each other for a moment, bonded in their hatred of the slasher zombie show.

“I’m gonna…” Kurusu vaguely points to the stairs behind him.

“Go ahead.”

Kurusu smiles sheepishly before disappearing to change his clothes, and Goro sits in the attic alone. No cat, no leader of the Phantom Thieves. He wonders if he’ll ever find a similar peace at home.

October 30, 20XX

Today was yet another tiresome day for Goro, as most days tend to be. Except his after-school schedule wasn’t booked with Mementos visits or plastic interviews. He didn’t have a shift at the Prosecutor’s Office, nor was he summoned to the Diet Building to humor Shido’s monologues, no. After school, Goro marched directly to Tokyo’s public library.

And within the library’s confines he searched and scoured any book regarding his neighborhood, which then resorted to books related to Kichijoji as a whole. As he learned from his research on housing codes and the history of Tokyo’s architecture: his building wasn’t built over an abandoned graveyard. Nor were there any brutal murders in the building—not even a mild, gentle murder. The only murderer who has resided in that complex is Goro. At least he can add that to his long list of titles.

Alas, there’s no reason for his apartment to be haunted. Unless Goro’s past targets have decided to dedicate their post-mortem afterlife to torturing their supernatural hitman. Could it be Goro is the one who’s haunted, not the building itself?

No. How would that explain the activity that occurs when he’s not there? Why would they not follow Goro to Leblanc, to school, the Metaverse? Are these supernatural beings too weak to travel those distances? Does Goro have nothing to fear after all?

He feels like he’s losing his mind.

His trip to the library leaves him with only more questions, but when has a lack of comprehension ever stopped him? He couldn’t grasp the intricacies of the Metaverse at first; he didn’t understand the shadows closing in on him, nor why he felt he was splitting in two every time he tore off that ridiculous mask. These ghosts, whatever they are… they haven’t laid a hand on him yet. And if they do, well. How difficult is it to fight off a ghost? Goro could probably scare them off with a simple flash of his phone screen (on maximum brightness).

It’s with newfound resolve that Goro returns to Kichijoji. It’s been days since he slept in his own clothes—even a moisturizing face mask sounds like a luxury right now. A tall posture and a clenched hand around his briefcase is how he enters the building.

Deep breath, deep breath. Goro killed these ghosts once before; who’s to say they aren’t utterly terrified of his presence? Perhaps the disturbances around his apartment—a bang on the wall, a slam on the door—is their way of begging for a way out. Can they sense Loki’s merciless power? Are they aware they’ve invaded the home of a psychopath?

Goro can hardly believe he succumbed to fear so easily! To let Kurusu see his vulnerable side, bullshitting about team bonding… What a joke! Goro’s clawed through life all on his own. He doesn’t need help. He doesn’t need sanctuary. This apartment is the first place he’s called home since living with his mother. He’s not about to let somebody else take that from him—alive or not!

He has to trap a laugh as he crosses the threshold into the genkan. His apartment is so silent, it’s practically dead. Could it be the ghosts sense his fear?

“Go on— Don’t just stand there!”

He hears a thump in his bedroom, and he bares his teeth as he drops his briefcase on the kitchen counter. Kicking off his shoes, Goro stalks the hall to his bedroom.

Why bother being sneaky when dealing with an invisible entity? Goro yanks the door open (he could’ve sworn he left it ajar when last here) and shines his phone flashlight into the room.

What he sees has a vicious wave of fright shooting up his spine.

A blur of black rushing toward his open bedroom window, disappearing in plain sight.

Goro thinks he might be sick.

If you spot black mist lurking where it shouldn’t, contact a registered exorcist to evaluate your next steps.

There’s a demon in Goro’s apartment.

He breaks into a panic, gathering an armful of clothes and cosmetics before booking it down the hall, hardly remembering to grab his shoes and briefcase before launching himself out the door. In only his socks he sprints toward the station, the opinions of witnesses the least of his worries. In hindsight, perhaps Goro should have timed himself, because he’s certain his speed could be compared to that of a bullet. If he’s going to be killed by a demon, he might as well have a world record to his name.

shit shit shit

Goro frantically paces waiting for the train to arrive, awkwardly hopping on one foot to return his loafers to his feet. There’s no question about it now: the thing in his apartment is undoubtedly a ghost. Goro really thought he could defeat that? He’s so… so full of shit. He’s nothing without his persona—a terrified child putting on a brave facade! A gun won’t kill that thing; he can’t hunt down its shadow in the Metaverse!

Before today, Goro still had a sense of deniability. He would’ve happily lived in his delusions, convinced he’s just imagining things. His doors close by themselves because of tiny earthquakes running through the ground! The cold spots are caused by the volatile autumn weather! Anything that made sense at the time, he would’ve latched onto and claimed it as truth.

It’s different now that he’s seen the fucking thing.

He rushes to Leblanc at that same quick pace, his reflection in the door window one of pure petrification. Does he dare contact Shido and request a new apartment? Should he attempt to relocate on his own, or will the demon follow him like a parasite infesting a corpse? Does he have no other choice but to live out his days in the Metaverse? Perhaps he can find someone with a hotel for a palace—

“Akechi?”

Goro stiffens when he comes face to face with his one beacon of hope: Kurusu with his school bag draped over his shoulder, the cat squinting at him from within.

“Ah, Kurusu-kun. Funny running into you here.”

“Where I live?”

“I see you have plans outside the cafe. Are you meeting with someone?”

“Yeah, but—”

“Ahaha~! A school friend, I presume?”

“No, but—”

“By all means, don’t stick around on account of me! In fact, there’s someone waiting on me as well—”

“You’ve been standing outside for ten minutes.”

“...I believe your sense of time is exaggerated.”

“No, it’s definitely been that long,” the cat adds.

“Akechi,” Kurusu tries again, soft and sympathetic. He pointedly glances at Goro’s armful of clothes. “Come inside.”

“I wouldn’t want to delay your plans—”

“My ‘friend’ is a journalist in Shinjuku who’s probably drunk off her ass by now. Whatever information she wanted to give me, she’s already forgotten.”

He steps to the side to allow Goro entrance. Goro lifts his shoulders defensively as he accepts the offer. Even the cat doesn’t make a fuss this time.

“A journalist, you say?”

Kurusu smirks. “Good press has to come from somewhere.”

“You realize I’m the detective assigned to your case? You'd really give up your methods so easily?”

“Last time I checked, you have all our names. You even have pictures, detective.” Kurusu guides him upstairs, and Goro follows. “You agreed to our terms, we agreed to yours.”

Moreso Goro forced them into agreement, but calling out Kurusu’s susceptibility to blackmail would only lead to a shrill yowl from the cat.

So Goro obediently places his belongings on the couch instead. Oddly enough, he feels a touch of fondness seeing the ancient thing.

“Now,” Kurusu— no, Joker starts. He steps closer to Goro, towering over him despite their equivalence in height. “Are you going to tell me why you’ve crashed in my dusty attic for four nights in a row?”

Goro's instinct is to take offense. Where did this sudden interrogation come from? “I don’t recall making that decision myself. You’re the one routinely insisting I sleep in your dusty attic.”

“You could’ve said no.”

“It would have been rude to decline. If you didn’t want me here, why bother asking at all?”

“I never said I don’t want you—”

“And your accusations are entirely fabricated! I’ve only slept here for three nights!”

“You were clearly hoping to stay over tonight—”

“This is a baseless assumption—!”

“You brought clothes with you—!”

“I was practicing at the batting cages this afternoon. You wouldn’t expect me to train in my uniform, would you?”

Kurusu sighs as he pinches his brow, frustrated and defeated. It seems Goro has shot down whatever point he was trying to make. Even the cat has since waddled downstairs, averse to seeing his leader knocked off his pedestal.

Except when Kurusu lowers his hand, his eyes are fierce with determination.

“You showed up tonight looking like your life is in danger. And two days ago— you’d clearly been crying when you got here. Akechi, what’s going on? Is someone hurting you?”

Tell me their name, goes left unsaid, but Goro knows Kurusu wouldn’t hesitate to ask.

Fuck. He’s been cornered, hasn’t he? If Goro lets Kurusu think he’s in danger, it’s only a matter of time before he starts tracking down the culprit. Shido’s cyber security is tight, sure. But Goro isn’t foolish enough to doubt Futaba Sakura’s abilities.

He has to tell the truth.

Fuck.

“I’m fully aware of how foolish this sounds,” he prefaces, fiddling with the cuff of his blazer. “So please, spare me of your ridicule. Even I didn’t believe it at first.”

“You can tell me anything. Seriously.”

Kurusu sounds so genuine. Almost like a friend.

“I…” Goro squeezes his eyes shut before spitting it out, "My apartment is haunted."

Kurusu is silent for a long moment. Tentatively, Goro squints an eye open, and he huffs when he sees Kurusu trying to restrain a laugh.

“Your apartment is haunted?”

“This isn’t a joke, Kurusu. I saw it… The demon!”

“The demon?” Kurusu looks so wholly amused by this— like Goro is some jester dancing for a court of royalty! “Akechi, has the Metaverse been affecting you that much?”

“The Metaverse hasn’t been affecting me at all!”

“Are you sure? Because we could have you sit out for a few days.”

“I’m perfectly fine! I’ve never been better!”

“There’s a clinic just around the corner— a no questions asked kinda place. We could get you in for a quick checkup.”

“I don’t need—!” Goro’s shoulders deflate with a sigh. “You don’t believe me.”

“That there’s a demon in your apartment? No, I don’t.”

Of course he doesn’t. Of course the arrogant, pompous Joker would think he’s above it all.

“Fine. Spend a night in my apartment and see for yourself.”

Kurusu’s brows shoot up on his forehead. “You…want me to sleep at your place?”

“With all that racket, I doubt we’ll be doing much sleeping.”

Kurusu’s eyebrows have disappeared beneath his bangs at this point, his eyes as large as the curry bowls downstairs. “Yeah?”

“Tomorrow night,” Goro continues. “Seeing as we’re already here, we might as well catch up on sleep in preparation.”

And because the demon seemed particularly pissed off when Goro fled the scene. He’s not too keen on marching into that death trap.

“Right.” Kurusu swallows thickly. “In preparation…for ghost hunting.”

“Demon hunting.”

“Right. Demons.”

It seems Kurusu finally understands the gravity of the situation, because he’s wide-eyed and flushed for the rest of the night. Strange is how Goro would describe it, with the way he clearly tries to play it off by acting cool. As long as he takes this seriously, that’s all that matters.

October 31, 20XX

Kurusu is not taking this seriously at all.

Goro learns as much when he arrives at his apartment the following night, opening his door to find Kurusu dressed in what appears to be a sad attempt at robot cosplay. There’s a helmet atop his head equipped with a flashlight and some sort of ancient video camera. His torso is strapped in a fishing jacket, the pockets bursting with walkie talkies, recording devices, and meters that resemble car speedometers. A utility belt is wrapped around his waistband—a cruel mockery to the workers of the world who might actually make use of such a garment. The pouches are filled to the brim with salt canisters.

“Damn. This place is empty.”

Goro is so high-strung from being inside his apartment, he can’t find the energy for pleasantries.

“What the hell is this?”

“We’re here to hunt ghosts, aren’t we?” the life-sized gundam says. “I figured I should get into character.”

Kurusu punctuates his words with a wink.

“There is no character. You understand the situation we’re dealing with? I doubt a demon will be entertained by your toys.”

“Wha— They’re not toys! I mean, I did buy everything in Akihabara, but they sell serious stuff there too! Like computers.”

Goro’s stare is as expressive as a rock. “Would it kill you to take this seriously?”

“I’m taking this super seriously.”

Kurusu slips off his shoes to prove his point, leaving them close to the door in case a quick escape is needed. Then, Kurusu reaches for the video camera on his head—a device Goro learns isn’t a video camera at all. The room shines with a green grid, the lights so intrusive it has Goro flinching from the brightness. He suddenly feels like he’s in a spy movie.

“Pretty cool, right?” Kurusu grins. “Now we can see if there’s any ghosts moving around.”

“Turn that shit off,” Goro grumbles. “I was able to see it just fine with my own two eyes.”

Kurusu pouts as he turns off the grid.

“I brought some other stuff for us to try,” he says, because of course Joker doesn’t plan to quit there. He retrieves a handful of candles from his utility belt (Goro doesn’t know how they fit in there) and lights them one by one in Goro’s kitchen. He then fishes out one of the many recording instruments from his vest.

“This will let the ghosts talk to us,” Kurusu explains like he’s a certified paranormal expert. When he turns on the device, it roars with an overwhelmingly loud static, Goro slamming his hands over his ears.

“What is that?!” he yells over the sound.

“WHAT?” Kurusu yells back.

“Turn it off!”

“I don’t think I CAN turn it up!”

“OFF!”

Kurusu finally seems to get the hint, because the eruption of static comes to a swift, ungraceful end.

“That was terrible,” Goro mutters once he can hear himself think again. “Why would a ghost want to communicate with that?”

“Maybe that was the demon talking.”

“You think a demon sounds like static?”

“Well, it’s not gonna speak Japanese.”

“It could if it wanted to!”

Once they’ve calmed down after the demon-static fiasco, Kurusu fishes something out of his vest pocket. It seems to be a mat folded up into tiny squares.

“Can you believe it? They were selling portable ouija boards!” He unveils what does appear to be a plastic ouija board, laying it out on the kotatsu. “Cute, right?”

“Cute isn’t the word I’d use to describe it.”

“Don’t be like that. Weren’t you the one who wanted to catch a ghost?”

Goro sighs. Perhaps gathering more information will help him in the long run. Using a ouija board risks inviting a vengeful spirit into your home, specifically demons, the article had said. But if Goro already has a demon infestation, what’s the worst that could happen? More demons take refuge in his apartment? At that point Goro’s landlord would have to do something, surely.

Goro silently kneels and places his hands on the planchette, not giving Kurusu the satisfaction of a response. He’s met by a grin as Kurusu’s fingers settle atop his own, Goro blaming the pound of his heart on the uneasiness of the situation.

Kurusu breaks the short-lived silence. “Um. Do we introduce ourselves?”

“How the fuck would I know?”

“Feisty. I guess we’ll get right into it. Ghosts of Goro Akechi’s apartment… Are you here?”

What feels like hours is a measly sixty seconds. They receive no reply from the ouija board.

“Maybe the ghosts stepped out for the evening.”

Goro resists the urge to kick Kurusu’s shin. “Take this seriously.”

“I’m nothing but serious, detective. I think the ghosts are nervous.”

“Maybe they’re annoyed.”

Kurusu’s responding grin is blinding. "Ghosts, do you think Akechi needs to chill out and be nice to his rival?"

The planchette slowly moves to yes.

"Woah... It moved on its own!"

"It did not move on its own."

“Fine, fine." Kurusu clears his throat. "Ghosts, if you’re out there… What is it you want with one Goro Akechi? Are you a fan?”

“I’m wary to believe a demon is a fan of mine.”

“It’s not impossible. You’re really popular right now.”

“Sure, in Japan. Not in Hell.”

“I don’t know. If I was a demon, I’d try to possess you.”

Goro parts his lips, but he’s not granted the opportunity to call out Kurusu’s shit. The lights in his apartment extinguish all at once, the candlelight being their only remaining source of vision. Kurusu’s face pales beneath the dim glow, and his fingers press harder against Goro’s on the planchette.

“Uh. Is there a power shortage—?”

It’s Kurusu’s turn to be interrupted, this time by a loud slam from the bedroom.

“...That was my closet door,” Goro speaks after a beat. Paralyzed by fear, it takes a moment to register Kurusu’s following words.

“Let’s take a look.”

He turns on a flashlight, snapping Goro back to the present.

“Are you trying to fucking die?!”

“There’s two of us and one of it. It can’t possess us both.”

“There could be an entire demon colony we don’t know about!”

“You can hide behind me if you’re scared~”

Goro traps a growl under his breath. He’s not scared— he’s merely prioritizing his survival. If this were the Metaverse, he wouldn’t march straight into a battle with the reaper. How can Goro conduct his meticulous and foolproof revenge plot on his father if he dies before the election?!

Nevertheless, he follows Kurusu to his bedroom. It’s a slow creep through the hall, Kurusu sneaking around the corner as though preparing to ambush a shadow. Goro stays close behind like the perfect teammate he is.

“Your window’s open,” Kurusu notes when he peeks into Goro’s room. Even from here Goro can hear the harsh winds of the outside world.

“It was open when I last left, but it certainly wasn’t my doing.”

“You don’t lock your windows?”

Goro scoffs. “Of course I do. Even if I didn’t, how the hell would someone get up here? They can’t exactly scale the pipes.”

Kurusu doesn’t argue as he stealthily tiptoes into the bedroom. A breath hitches from somewhere in the room, something that sounds like a gasp coming from Goro’s closet. It’s too dark to see the source of the sound, the candlelight a distant memory of Goro’s kitchen, the moon buried by a layer of dark clouds.

“That wasn’t you, was it?” Kurusu asks.

“No, it wasn’t fucking me.”

“And you don’t have a secret roommate or anything?”

“I don’t.”

“No pets?”

“Do I seem like a pet person to you?”

“I dunno. People love cute idols with cute animals.”

Cute. There’s that baffling word again.

“I don’t own any pets.”

Right as the words leave Goro’s lips, an audible assault pierces through the walls. Moaning and creaking pours in all around them; it’s inescapable, it’s like the goddamn end of the world. Goro shakes his head as he pushes Kurusu further into the room. He’s not in his right mind. He feels his sanity being swept from his body.

“A-are you sure?” Kurusu’s voice trembles at his side. “Because that sure sounds a lot like a dog howling.”

Goro shakes his head more frantically. He can’t find the right words. He takes a step backward and the floor creaks, causing the two boys to jump at the sound.

“A-Akechi, you’re not pulling a prank, are you?”

“Don’t be dense! I’m not S-Sakamoto—”

Something scurries across Goro’s bedroom floor, interrupting his completely necessary ridicule of the blonde. Whatever it is, it blends in with the darkness of the night, a small cloud of black moving at inhumanly fast speeds. The pair are wide-eyed and stricken as they back away, stopped when the back of their knees hit the frame of Goro’s bed.

“Wh-what was that?” Kurusu frets.

“It,” Goro whispers, careful to not be overheard. It’s pointless, isn’t it? They’ve already been cornered. What the fuck was he thinking, following that dumbass in here? “The demon.”

“Shit.”

Goro’s eyes have adjusted to the darkness just enough to see Kurusu reach for his utility belt, uncapping one of his many bottles of salt. Then, with a quick breath, he flings the contents in the direction of the creature.

They’re answered by a cruel hiss, a violent sound that has them recoiling as one.

“You just had to go and piss it off!” Goro barks.

“Demons are supposed to be weak to salt!”

“Really? What juvenile horror film did you learn that from?!”

A boom of thunder punctuates the jab, and Kurusu and Goro are throwing themselves on the bed in the flash—their deathbed, so to speak. Their arms are quick to find each other, huddling close as though to protect themselves from the demon’s ire. Behind closed eyelids, Goro can see his bedside lamp flickering frantically, teasing him in his final moments.

“Kurusu!” he shouts. His voice is nearly drowned by the groaning in the walls, the occasional thunderclap and scuttle of feet on his floor. Even the wind tearing through his open window has turned into an oppressive howl. “I— I didn’t join the Phantom Thieves to make you cease operations. I did it to betray you!”

“Akechi!” Kurusu’s voice is so close, it surrounds Goro in his entirety. “We know you have ulterior motives! You blackmailed us!”

Something bumps against the bedroom wall, immediately followed by a wounded hiss, and Goro and Kurusu hold each other tighter. Fine, so they’re confessing their secrets. He might as well get it all out.

“I wasn’t just going to betray you. I was going to kill you!”

“I- I know! Futaba— she hacked your phone the other day! You revealed your entire plan to us!”

Goro digs his nails into Kurusu’s back. They fucking knew?! Sakura decoded his scheme so effortlessly? Was it when she feigned awe at Goro’s phone and toyed with it for minutes? Did she call him a grandpa for no reason?!

“I’m the one conducting mental shutdowns!” Goro blurts. “When I said I accidentally stumbled into Okumura’s palace… That was a lie! I’ve been working in the Metaverse for years! I have two personas!”

Kurusu doesn’t flinch at this. When Goro’s TV flips on in the living room, however, the sound of the evening news blaring through the apartment, Kurusu’s breath stuuters, burying his face in Goro’s neck.

“We know!” his muffled voice shouts. “We know you’re the black mask, Akechi!”

The black mask? Where did that atrocious nickname come from?

“You knew?!”

“You gave it away when we first met! You heard Morgana mention pancakes!”

It was the damn cat that exposed him?!

“I’m working for someone!” Goro continues, because goddammit. He’ll one-up Joker in this competition of confessions if it’s the last thing he does! “A candidate for Prime Minister! He has the police in his back pocket— and an entire arsenal of cognitive psientists. Even without my help, he plans to dispose of the Phantom Thieves!”

A small gasp is heard from somewhere in the room.

“We figured you were working for someone!” Kurusu counters, because of course he fucking knew. “The Medjed that targeted us was a fake! When Okumura was boosted to the top of the Phansite, the source code was the same! It was the work of a decent coder, and well. Futaba says you’re kind of a grandpa.”

Goro doesn’t acknowledge the insult; he doesn’t jump at the flash of lightning outside his window.

“He’s my father!” he continues. “After the election, I planned to reveal my identity to him. I’d make his life a living hell— I’d make him grovel at my feet!”

“Your father?” Kurusu echoes. “The lowlife who abandoned you and your mother?”

Those are the same words Goro rambled to Kurusu in that bathhouse weeks ago… He remembered.

“I don’t want to kill you!” Goro cries. The walls creak and moan in the background, the lights flicker with an angry furor, claws scratching on the floor. “You’re the one person I care about— the first person I’ve ever considered a friend!”

“Goro, I…” Kurusu’s hands clutch Goro’s face as he leans back. His eyes are still wild with fear, but there’s something else that accompanies the hysteria. Fondness.

Something leaps onto the bed at that moment. It’s too dark to see anything beyond glowing blue eyes, but they can both feel its weight, the shift of the mattress as it stomps on Goro’s pillows.

There’s no escape.

They’re going to die.

Goro tangles his hands in Kurusu’s shirt and yanks him into a kiss.

It’s frantic and bruising—two boys at the verge of death not bothering with technique. They were so young, but at least Goro can say he had his first kiss. He’s been held by Kurusu’s hands, a fierce touch traveling downward until he’s pawing at Goro's hips. He’s tasted Kurusu, the heavy licks of his tongue and the throaty moans pouring into his mouth. He’s kissed Kurusu and been kissed by him, with their teeth gnashing and their lips sucked and swollen and bitten, the outside world ceasing to exist entirely.

The fanfics were right, Goro thinks as their tongues lap together, his heart singing with euphoria, this is like fighting for dominance.

He wiggles closer until he's nearly straddling Kurusu's thighs, and he licks hard into his mouth—

“Ew! What are you guys doing!”

—Only for Goro to break the kiss with a startled scream.

“Wha—? Why are you yelling at me?!”

It takes a flash of lightning to make out the figure standing on Goro’s bed: four legs, a tail fluffed up from being frightened, two kitty ears paired with an agape kitty snout.

“Mona?” Kurusu whisper-shouts. “What are you doing here?”

“What are you doing here, Joker?” the cat counters. But Kurusu isn’t having it. When the bedside lamp sparks on and off, he opts for shooing the cat toward the open window.

“You need to leave!”

“Leave?! But it’s raining!”

“Wet fur is better than being sacrificed by a demon!”

A loud wail roars through the walls, and Goro and Kurusu are immediately clinging to each other again.

“Don’t you hear that?!” Goro shrieks. “How can you be so calm about this?!”

“You mean the pipes?”

Goro takes a moment to process this.

“The… pipes?”

“You haven’t heard?” the cat asks innocently. “The building has had plumbing and electricity issues for a while now. They’ve been trying to get it fixed, but the weather keeps ruining their progress.”

“Plumbing… and electricity problems..?”

The lamp turns itself on with that; even the thunderstorm seems less harsh than it was moments ago.

“That’s why it was coming from the walls,” Kurusu notes with wide eyes. “It was the pipes.”

“And that explains the random power surges,” Goro adds. But he doesn’t feel entirely satisfied with this conclusion. Why have doors been slamming on their own? What caused those footsteps, the bumps and hisses in his room? Why did Goro hear a scream while standing outside the building a few nights ago?

“Wait. Mona.”

The cat tilts its head when Kurusu addresses it. The fear has vanished from Kurusu’s face, replaced by a perplexity akin to Goro’s own.

“Yeah, Joker?”

“How do you know so much about the maintenance problems in Akechi’s apartment building?”

Those blue kitty eyes widen. “O-oh, um—!”

“What are you doing here in the first place?” Goro grunts.

“W-why are you looking at me?! Akechi’s the one who confessed to murder tonight!”

Fuck. Goro did confess to murder tonight.

But Kurusu doesn’t wither with a look of betrayal; he doesn’t march out of the room with his back turned to Goro, too disgusting to look his way. He keeps his stern gaze trained on his cat.

“Answer the question, Morgana.”

The cat’s snout quivers.

“I- I’ve been digging for clues in Akechi’s apartment!” he blurts. “Ever since you two took that bath together in Yongen!”

Kurusu blinks multiple times at this information, as though hit by a sudden gust of wind. “You’ve been sneaking into Akechi’s apartment?”

“You’ve been breaking and entering into my apartment?!”

The cat has been slamming doors and darting in and out of Goro's window? The cat has been startling his neighbors and scraping its claws on the floor as it runs? The cat saw them make out on Goro’s bed?

“You two had been hanging out more, so… I knew Akechi wasn’t going to be here! I— We needed to know who caused Okumura’s mental shutdown!” The cat frantically looks between the boys’ faces: Goro’s one of rage, Kurusu’s one of pure disappointment. “But that doesn’t matter anymore, does it? We know he’s the black mask!”

There’s that terrible nickname again. Were the thieves really talking about him behind his back this much?

“Mona…” Kurusu sighs as he runs a hand over the cat’s fur. “Your lockpicking skills have gotten better in spite of your paws. But that doesn’t mean you can sneak into others’ homes, even if you are suspicious of them.”

The cat frowns. “Sorry, Joker.”

“And Goro.”

Goro’s eyes widen, Kurusu’s voice drawing him from his thoughts about when the cat could’ve possibly picked locks in the past.

“I— That was a fib,” he blabs. “What I said before. It was merely to fool you into thinking you knew me better in death. So you’d believe I was someone worthy of murder by paranormal means—”

“What’s his name?” Kurusu cuts him off.

Goro’s blabbering comes to a halt. “I’m sorry?”

“The person you’re working for. Your father. What’s his name?”

The room is silent as Kurusu and the cat wait for an answer. Then a laugh bursts from Goro’s lips, an ugly guffaw he doesn’t bother to stifle.

“Why, so you can get yourself killed in his palace?”

“We have a team—”

“You have cheerleaders. Might I remind you he can control the police with a snap of his fingers? You can barely handle the palace of a feeble prosecutor!”

Kurusu’s brow creases with stubbornness. “He’s a politician, he’s running for Prime Minister this election. It shouldn’t be too difficult to find his name, especially with the bug Futaba placed on your phone.”

Fuck. Goro forgot about the stupid bug.

“Changing the heart of someone like that…” Goro shakes his head, “It’s not enough.”

“It’s a start. You wanted him to grovel at your feet, didn’t you?”

Goro folds his arms over his chest, tilting his nose toward the ceiling. In truth, he never considered changing Shido’s heart. Mostly because he didn’t know how to fucking change hearts until the cat explained it to him two days ago.

“What you do after learning his name is no concern of mine.”

In his peripheral, Goro watches a grin stretch across Kurusu’s face.

“We’ll make him pay,” Kurusu promises.

“Yeah!” the cat agrees.

The moon is starting to peek through the clouds outside.

“Diet building. Ship.”

Kurusu’s head tilts at the words.

“Your task is to find his name,” Goro explains. “The least I can do is tell you the other two codewords.”

Kurusu’s lips part in awe. “Fuck, Akechi. I want to kiss you again.”

“Then do it.”

“You sure?”

“I told you— I’m not the type to play pranks.”

Kurusu beams. Then he leans in at the speed of a rocket.

“Oh, heck no. Not While I’m here!”

The cat escapes out the window and crawls down the pipe scaling the building, disappearing into nighttime darkness.

Goro smiles into the kiss. Crouched on his bed with Kurusu’s arms embracing him, it becomes obvious now: that couch was fucking uncomfortable.