Archive of Our Own ^beta

Really, truly, he's been great. With the Phantom Theieves doing exactly what he expected, and Shido moving along as planned. If he keeps it up, if he's patient, all of this will go well. It will end how it's supposed to, with three bullets in three different heads. Masayoshi Shido, Akira Kurusu, and his own. 

Nevermind the gun in his mouth. Ignore the way his finger shakes over the trigger, wondering if maybe it'd just be worth it to end it here, to cut off his progress. To spare the life of an innocent teenager he's come to- 

Masayoshi Shido ruined his life. He created it, just to rip apart everything that was left. Goro has lived this long just to put a bullet in that man's head. He can't give up, not here. 

And yet his reflection stares back, glaring with eyes he can't recognize anymore. Everything about him is foreign. If the Goro just three years ago were to see him now, cowering with a gun in his mouth, knowing all the lives he's ended and the grave of his mother sitting in the ground with her killer still breathing, continuing to gain power as a politician. That young and naive Goro wouldn't even believe what he was seeing. And he shouldn't have to. 

Goro really hates his own reflection. 

And it's easier, to run, isn't it? Knowing how much he's fucked up, that these are hardly reversible crimes. Maybe, maybe Akira and his stupid group of friends could say that he isn't too far gone. But he isn't worth that. He doesn't deserve it, not when he is the reason Sakura was put in the same position as him, why Okumara had to watch her father die on television. 

Goro deserves this bullet in his head, and it's so easy to give up now. To run from his own mistakes and give up before the job is done. 

What he hates most about is reflection is the ounce of Shido he sees in it. The way their eyes glare with the same hatred, and the way Goro's voice raises to a certain degree. The way they're filled with anger, with a need to hurt others. 

Goro pulls the trigger, and it doesn't go. 

He knows it won't. It's an empty fucking gun, because he has always been a coward. Too pathetic to end his own life. He sets it on the counter, stares at the shitty, dirty bathroom mirror in an apartment he can barely afford. 

He will live. To get rid of Shido, to shoot away any similarity he and the other man have. He won't die looking like his father. 

~_~_~_~ 

Sae Niijima had a palace. Who knew. 

He did, anyways. He'd put her name in out of sheer curiosity months ago, almost laughing when he found out it was a hit. But a casino, of all things? Sure, it made sense, but it was nothing he could expect from her. 

And Niijima, her younger sister, Goro almost felt bad. He tried his hardest to make his words of comfort genuine, but how can you do that when your entire mission with these people is to kill their leader? To likely eventually kill them all off as well? It's all he's done, lately, with Shido's uproar in requests. Despite the upcoming election he's adamant on throwing away anyone he can. 

Sometimes he stares at his hands at night, in the dark, and pretends when he turns on the light he'll see the blood. 

They finish her palace within days, and yet decide it's for the better if they wait to send the calling card until right before the investigation. Goro barely sees the reason in that, when he's so antsy to get this over with (he's never enjoyed the killing, god), but it's what they decide. 

Goro fights Kurusu and loses. Of course he does. 

"I'm going to be honest, I hate you." 

There's a flash of hurt- surprise, almost- and yet at the same time it's like Kurusu knew all along. 

Kurusu holds the glove against his chest, fist clenching. Goro leaves, ignoring the dryness in his throat. Refusing to question if he even meant what he said. 

He doesn't talk to the Phantom Thieves after that. Aside from Mementos, a rare occurrence, he stays in his room. Wasting away and occasionally following the orders from Shido. Talking to the man makes him sick. Everything does. Vomit resides in the back of his throat constantly, and all he can think about in his isolation is Okumara, Sakura, and Kurusu. 

He doesn't want to do this. He has to. He's too deep in now. What's the point in going back, when he couldn't redeem himself regardless? 

A week before they send the calling card, there's a knock on his door. 

Shido wouldn't come here, he would at most call. Niijima might, but Goro doesn't know if he's ever even given her his address. 

He opens it, reluctantly, and- 

"Sakamoto?" He almost groans. 

"Hey!" Sakamoto makes himself into the shitty apartment, looking around. He grimaces. "Oh." 

"Uh, excuse you?" Goro shuts the door. "I know, it's not much. I'm usually too busy to be in it anyways." 

"Well it looks like you've only ever been in it, recently." 

Goro grimaces. "What do you want, Sakamoto?" 

"Akira gave me your address-" 

"How the hell did he get it?" 

Sakamoto shrugs. "Fuck if I know. Not the point, he was worried. Ann is- we all are." 

"I barely know you." 

"Sure, but you're apart of the team." 

"Yeah, for the short time that it still exists." And I'm killing your leader. 

"That doesn't matter." Of course it doesn't. "You need to get out, breathe air." 

"I'll pass." 

"This isn't debatable-" Sakamoto recoils, taking an exaggerated step back and glancing at Goro. "Uh, hah, Akechi, why's there a gun in your bathroom?" 

Fuck. He didn't move it. 

"It's for the metaverse." 

"That's not the one you use." Since when did he start paying attention to detail. "And, 'sides, Akira's been showing me the difference between model and real guns. That's- that's fucking real, man." 

Yeah, I know, it's the whole point. 

"I'm a detective, we carry those around us." 

Sakamoto clears his throat and relaxes his stance. "Oh, uh, yeah, never really considered that." Goro rolls his eyes and Sakamoto itches the back of his neck. "Still. You shouldn't just leave it out like that, y'know?" There's a pause. "Um, Akechi?" 

He glances back at the teenage boy. "What?" 

"You know if- if somethings going on you can always talk to us." He switches from leaning on one leg to the other. Goro can't tell if it's because the leg itself is bad or out of awkwardness, maybe both. "The team- I mean. Any of us, we're here for you." 

"Why did you come, and not Kurusu?" 

"He didn't specify, but he said something happened between you two. Thought it was too awkward to come here himself, and wanted to give you space." 

Of course. Kurusu, and his stupid fucking care would be too nice to intrude himself, but had to make sure he was checked on like a child. 

"And I wanted to come on my own. 'Cause again, you're a part of the team. We care." 

"This is business, Sakamoto." That's all it is, all it ever will be. They are nothing more to each other and soon they'll be less. "I appreciate it, really, but I'm okay. And you shouldn't put in the effort." 

No one ever has before, why should they now? 

Sakamoto scowls. "Why shouldn't I put in the effort? It sounds like bullshit to me, you being okay and all." 

Sakamoto is a quick fuse, and unfortunately for him so is Goro. When the two meet it's like playing with fire. "None of it is truly your business. You came in here unannounced and demand I tell you whatever is wrong- when there is nothing wrong. You would be the last person I ever open up to, anyways." 

"Why can't you deal with the idea people care about you, man?" Because they don't. "You hurt Akira, but he's still worried about you, 'cause that's the person he is. Won't you just- talk to him? Figure this shit out so he stops acting like a kicked dog?" 

He can't help but picture Kurusu, checking his phone to see if Goro's texted. And with the reveal that he hasn't, continuing to lay into that fake, stupid facade he always wears. Hiding behind fake glasses so no one sees how much it hurts. 

"Just, leave my apartment, Sakamoto." 

He huffs and damn near slams the door behind him. Goro is left with the silence, with the unloaded gun in the bathroom and a week before he has to put a bullet in Kurusu's head. 

~_~_~_~ 

The bar in Shinjuku is quiet. There's the faint piano, and Goro likes to close his eyes and pretend he's in Kichijoji, that they've just decided to play a new song tonight. It isn't alcohol he's drinking, but something soft. 

Recently, anytime he imagines this idea Kurusu weasles his way into it. 

Goro regrets ever taking him there. He's heard he's taken other members of the team, that it helps them in battle. Why is he jealous? He doesn't own that jazz place, or Kurusu. And yet- 

He's a frequent there, and so he's known as a minor. And yet despite being a celebrity, if he wears different clothing and styles his hair right (a different, but similar and better version of Akira's random attempt to hide him), the people running the bar believe his fake ID. 

And so, there he is, head hung low at the bar in Shinjuku. His face is flushed red, and he thinks he might throw up soon if he doesn't stop. But he wants a hangover tomorrow, the dull ache behind his eyes and wish to sleep longer. He wants that pain and ability to focus on it rather than anything else. 

Because it's being done in the metaverse, it was easy at first to push away the deaths. The killings. These were just cognitive versions of people, and yes they wind up dead in reality but he can just close his eyes and cover his ears and it's gone. He's not a murderer. 

But speaking with Sakura, and Okumara, has made him aware of the effects. That this goes beyond the men that wind up dead (who, often, end up being people involved in shit just as screwed). He managed to forget they have families, that Sakura had to hallucinate her own mother because of what he did. If Kurusu hadn't stepped in, maybe Sakura would've killed herself. Goro couldn't live if he heard his mother, taunting him and accusing him of being the cause of her death. Goro doesn't even know how he lives with himself now. 

He guesses he doesn't. That you can't call this living. 

"Another glass, please," he asks. 

"Don't you think you've had enough, sweetie?" 

Goro shakes his head. Everything spins. "Just- just one more, please." 

There's a glass in front of him, refilled. He goes to grab it but his hand shakes. He's so out of it, so fucked. He thinks it was spiked, then reconsiders. He's been cradling it all night, and no one here would want to do that to him. Maybe the bartender, but that would hardly make sense either. 

"Hey, Ohya." 

He knows that voice. 

He turns, vision spinning, and vaguely he sees Kurusu. 

Are you fucking kidding? He can't catch a break. 

He turns, head down to the counter. Not here, not now, just days before has to- 

"Akechi?" 

No, for fucks sake, you've got to be- 

"What are you-" There's a hand on his shoulder. It burns. He sees Shido, his mom squeezing his shoulder and smiling. Her face melts into Kurusu's, one staring in shock and concern. And with all this movement- all this spinning- Goro dispells all of the liquor he consumed onto Kurusu in one quick moment. 

Kurusu recoils, clearly taken aback. And quickly everything goes from a slow drunk haze to moving too fast for Goro to catch up. One moment, they're at the bar and Kurusu is covered in vomit. The next they're outside, with Goro draped over him and most of the large chunks wiped off of Kurusu's shirt. 

The position is embarrassing, and not something Goro would usually subject himself to. He tries to move, to push himself off, but Kurusu holds on tighter. 

"We're almost there," Kurusu says. 

"Where're we going?" Goro slurs. 

"Back to mine, Leblanc." 

Goro pushes himself off, stumbling in the process. "No- can't- M'fine, need to go home." 

"How do you plan on making it back there yourself?" Kurusu stares, knowing, with that snarkiness Goro despises. He doesn't know everything. 

"The plan was to wait until the bar closed, to sober up first. You interrupted that." 

"You had another glass in front of you. For all I know you would've gotten alcohol poisoning." 

"So what?" 

Kurusu's eyes flash with hurt. It's gone in just a second. "You're just drunk. Really fucking drunk." It's more of a reassurance to himself, and Goro would feel bad, if he could. But Kurusu needs to know this- that he's a goner who isn't worth saving. There's nothing to save anymore. He's a ripped shard and the pieces are too miniscule to pick up anymore. 

Kurusu grabs him by the arm again and forces him back to Leblanc. Goro must've thought it was later, or maybe it is and Sakura is just here anyways, but the man stares at him in shock. 

"Is he alright?" 

"I am quite alright." At least he's sobered up enough to speak semi-coherently. He dusts off his clothes again, trying to push himself away from the support of Kurusu. "Kurusu is just insistent-" he shuts his mouth, feeling the bile. 

"He'll be fine," Kurusu assures to his caretaker, thusly forcing Goro into the nearby bathroom. It's small, for the two of them, but they make it work. He keels over into the toilet, throwing up once- twice- thrice more than he thought he would. Alcohol usually doesn't make him react like this. Is it the disgust in himself or something in the liquor he had tonight, that makes him this sick? 

"You're alright, Akechi." Kurusu pulls his hair back, and the action is absolutely humiliating. Yet all he can do in protest is whine, which only makes it worse. "The more you get out, the better you'll feel." This teenager has no understanding of how being intoxicated works. 

When he's done, the vomit coating on the sides of his mouth, he stands shakily and flushes the toilet. He doesn't have the energy to protest Kurusu wiping his mouth clean, washing his hands and bringing him upstairs. The bed he's laid on his hard, and if Goro were sober he'd ask how the other lives like this. In a shitty bed in the attic of a coffee shop. Then again, Goro doesn't have much better. 

"You changed your outfit," Kurusu comments. "And your hair. You almost look like when I did it for you." He smiles. God, it hurts to look at. 

"It was to hide that I'm Akechi, so they let me drink." It visibly dampens the mood, as Kurusu's smile fades. 

"Why were you there, Akechi?" 

"Why were you?" It was meant to be a throwaway argument, one made in a childish manner, but it actually held weight. 

"I know someone- a woman- there. The journalist you met at the aquarium." 

Oh, that's right. He had seen her there, and because of it tried even harder to keep his head down and stay out of sight. Kurusu had solidly ruined almost everything for him now. 

"Now answer my question," Kurusu presses. 

"Is the answer not obvious? To get drunk." 

"Yeah, but-" Kurusu huffs. "Why? Why get so shit faced you can't stand up, or barely talk. You throw up everywhere and are miserable." 

"Because, Kurusu, that's better than being sober." 

Kurusu frowns, and pushes the hair from Goro's eyes. His hand rests on the side of his face, cupping it. "What's so bad about being sober? What is eating you up, why are you so closed off and desperate to push people away? Why- why do you hate me?" 

Kurusu almost reverts to a child with the last question, and despite all of his want Goro's heart breaks. 

"I'm sorry, Kurusu." Goro whispers. 

"Call me Akira," he says with a sad smile, and moves to get up. 

Goro scrambles. Despite feeling near sober, he's reminded how far from it he actually is when he moves. Good, maybe that means he can blame this on the alcohol. 

He grabs the others hand, pulls him down to Goro's level, and quickly (but also slowly; thought out and planned) he kisses Akira. With all the passion he can manage. 

"I don't hate you- I do, and yet-" he rests his forehead against Akira's. "I love you all the same." 

They sit, like that, for a moment. Until eventually Akira pulls away, and it burns Goro waiting for his response. His face is unreadable this time. Goro isn't given the split second of vulnerability before the fake look sets in. 

"You're drunk, Goro. Really fucking drunk." His hand slides off of Goro's face. 

Akira leaves, and Goro has no idea where. He falls asleep with the words, and kiss, replaying in his mind and on his lips. 

~_~_~_~ 

The police officer guarding Akira's cell is the first person he's ever killed outside of the metaverse. 

Goro pretends it doesn't phase him. 

Because a killer is all he is, ever will be. And this is just business for them. 

Akira's beaten figure stares up at him. It hurts to see the other man, with all the bruises. 

Goro rests his hand on Akira's face, noting the way he flinches, grimaces and glares. It slides down, onto his bottom lip and pulls. 

"I really hate doing this, you know." 

He pulls his hand away and lifts the gun. "Case closed, this is where your justice ends." 

It fires. Goro feels his end life with Akira's. 

~_~_~_~ 

Goro realizes painfully slowly that Akira is still alive. 

He hates the relief that comes with it. The other man is making his way through Shido's palace with his stupid fucking team, ruining everything he's worked for. Everything he's lived for. 

The gun is loaded this time. He interrupts the group, just before they're able to leave. 

"I was extremely particular about my life, my grades and social status, so that someone would want me around!" 

Akira opens his mouth, "Akechi-" 

"Don't say it, don't tell me you want me around when you left that night, after what I told you." He waves the gun around; to Akira, and then Sakamoto. Anyone he can. 

"You were drunk," he pleads. 

"So? You wanted me to be open, honest, to tell you the truth and I did. You're just some criminal trash living in an attic, so why do you have the things I don't? Why can you walk away when someone's in love with you but I'm stuck wishing I was dead?!" 

They all recoil. Akira's eyes well up and Goro finds it pathetic. This is all so incredibly pathetic. He is going to kill Akira, and then Shido, and finally himself. This is going to end. It has to. 

~ ~ 

He's hunched over, holding his stomach in his Grey and blue outfit. His mask is half broken and it's all out now. He's tried his hardest and he still lost. He always loses. 

"Of course. I couldn't do it." He falls to his knees. "I'm sorry, Mom." 

Sakura seems to flinch at that, and Akira looks like he wants to come towards Goro. 

"Akechi, please," Okumara begs. "It doesn't have to be this way." 

"There's nothing left for me." 

"Akechi," Sakura speaks. Goro feels he owes her his attention. "If these guys hadn't found me when they did, I don't know if I'd still be here. It was hard, without Mom, I was lost, and-" she cuts herself off. "Uh, the point is, it doesn't matter where you start over!" 

"I killed your mom," Goro admits. "I don't deserve to start over, not anymore." 

"Bullshit!" Sakamoto exclaims. "You're just a kid, Akechi. A fucking scared, wounded kid who was forced into things you never should have done. But you did, and killing yourself won't change that. Futaba's mom, Haru's father, they'll stay dead." 

"At least their killer will be gone too." 

"You think they want that? Any of us?" Takamaki chipes in. "We don't want you dead, we want a happy ending and that can't happen with you not in it." 

Why are they like this? Goro lost his mother, saw his father be the rotten man he is. Goro has been destroyed, over and over again and so have they so why aren't they just as ruined as he is? How can they go along like everything is going to be okay? 

"The closest thing I had to a father abandoned me too," Kitagawa says. Because at this point, they all have to try. "He let my mother die, and yet- I don't need his approval, or him. I've found out the meaning of art on my own, the point in creating for both the love and material gain. You don't need to avenge your mother, or hurt Shido just to feel whole again. You can do that yourself." 

"I'm sorry I left Akechi," Akira says. "I love you too." 

He pulls himself to his feet. He can't accept this, and awkwardly tell the group he's sorry and hope this goes well. They want him in their happy ending now, but what about when they leave the palace and the threat of death and remember what he's done? Goro has nothing to go back to. 

Except Akira, and his eyes, and the way he's desperately pleading with Goro. 

He opens his mouth, nearly accepting their offer- 

"What a pathetic little sheep." The voice is shrill, familiar. All too much so. It's his own. There's a metal gun that's placed to his head, and Goro knows- 

"It's Shido's cognitive version of Akechi," Morgana speaks. 

"That's disgusting," Takamaki spits. 

"I'm only here to help Captain Shido, I'll be thrown away the moment I'm no longer useful. And aren't you that way, Akechi? No longer of use, like a broken toy." 

"Go fuck yourself!" Sakamoto yells, moving to summon his persona but Akira stops him. 

"Come on, now. Are they really worth your time? This loudmouth brute, and an innocently naive boy who you proclaim your love for? Despite how desperate you are to say you're incapable of it, he's weasled his way in, and now you're weak again. The same man you were when your mother died." 

Goro's hand twitches. He glances over the entire team, and sees the other shadows in the corner. 

"You're all too tired to fight him," Sakura states. "It wouldn't go well at all." And she's right, Goro has dug his own grave. 

He ought to lie in it. 

He pulls out his gun and lifts it to Akira's head. He sees him flinch, terrified at the other man. He has every right to be. But it hurts, knowing it will probably be the last time- 

He fires. Right past Akira's head and to the button that closes the gate between them. A stupid, cliche self sacrifice and yet it feels like the first, maybe only decision he's made with his own free will. 

"Take Shido's heart, in my stead. End his crimes, please." 

"I'll hold on to your glove, Akechi." 

He laughs. "After all this, that's really all you have to say?" He looks up at the version of himself Shido has made. "Call me Goro." 

He lifts the gun, and in his final seconds the last thing he sees is his own sinister smirk.