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Akira now knows this to be true: the worst feeling in the world is missing someone while they're still here.
At least he only has to do it for a few hours.
It hits him the moment he wakes up, the morning of February 3rd. There's a moment where he doesn't remember what happened yesterday, what he has to do. His life is just this: swaddled in blankets, Morgana sleeping on his stomach, the tip of his nose pink with cold. And then his guileless, helpless brain can't help but wonder - was Akechi a morning person?
And that's it.
The name, thought so casually on the edge of sleep, slides into his psyche like a shard of glass. His exhaustion falls away like so much melting snow, and in its place, he is filled with memories - yesterday, the broken deal with Maruki, Akechi, Akechi, Akechi.
Dying.
Already dead, really - dead for months.
Gone. For good, after today.
He sits up, the movement oddly silent and robotic, a contrast to the heaving in his stomach - and for a moment, he thinks he might actually be sick, because it's already here. The fear, the fucking dread, threatening to overwhelm him before he even leaves his bed, what a good fucking start this is. He thought he'd - he'd purged himself of this last night, when he'd finally drifted off to sleep at four in the morning. But no. All it took was one errant, inane question to bring it all back into focus, and the realisation that he would never know the answer.
He would never know Akechi the way he wanted to.
It's almost surreal. In that moment, Akira sees the rest of his life, laid out in front of him, and knows it will be filled with unanswered questions, just like this. When he finally gets out of bed, dislodging Morgana from his lap so he can go to the bathroom - did Akechi like animals? When he brushes his teeth, staring at his own dark-eyed reflection in the mirror - did Akechi use spearmint or peppermint toothpaste?
What product did he put in his hair?
What size shoes did he wear?
What did he watch on TV in the morning?
What did he eat for breakfast?
What -
It's so... endless, in a way Akira finds terrifying. Enough questions to keep him occupied for a lifetime. But, as he boards the train to Odaiba (going too fast, going far too fucking fast), he knows that he doesn't have a lifetime. He just has today - and a cold, beautiful boy, standing by the half-finished stadium, preparing himself to die.
"Akechi," he greets, mouth dry. Akechi is wrapped up against the cold in his brown overcoat, the one Akira fondly calls his detective coat in his head, and the snow has left a fine dusting of white on his shoulders. His jaw clenches when he sees Akira approaching, like he tastes something sour - but he nods in acknowledgement all the same.
Did Akechi like the cold?
What was his favourite season?
"Kurusu. Hope you're ready for today."
Of course I'm not, you piece of shit -
"As I'll ever be," he says instead, the words bland, not even attempting to smile. Akechi doesn't call him out on it. He hesitates, just for a moment.
"Before the others arrive, Kurusu, I just wanted to... check something. Did you... About what happened yesterday, did you.... tell them?"
The words come out stilted and awkward, none of the Detective Prince charm that had smoothed their first interactions like a varnish, synthetic and fake. Everything about it makes Akira's chest hurt, knowing he could have seen more of this, could have peeled back the layers of Akechi Goro in time, if he'd just had more time in the first place -
"No. I didn't," he says, and Akechi lets out a sound of unmistakable relief. "I figured you wouldn't want me to."
"You figured correctly," he nods without looking at him. To anyone passing, it would look like they were just discussing the weather. "Please keep it that way until - our job is done."
"...Right."
The silence that falls between them is hollow, and Akira doesn't want it. It has never been like this between him and Akechi, not even during the worst of their lies, when Akechi had been planning to kill him and Akira had tricked him under his very nose. Even then, it was - easy. Easy to laugh, easy to joke, easy to fall into their typical back-and-forth, Akira both surprising and disturbing himself with how genuine his smile was. Now, his tongue feels thick in his mouth. He doesn't know what to say.
Did Akechi remember those conversations?
Did he enjoy them as much as I did?
How long will I remember them after -
"Joker," Morgana pokes his little head out from his bag, and Akira jumps - he'd nearly forgotten he was there. There's a small, sad expression on the cat's face as he looks between him and Akechi, but he doesn't try to say anything. Instead, he nudges Akira's hand with his nose. "Your phone's buzzing. I think it's the others."
Acting in tandem, he and Akechi fish out their phones and open the Phantom Thieves group chat. There, littering his notifications one after another -
Panther: sorry guys, train troubles!! i'll be a little late
Skull: yo same here
Skull: friggin typical
Fox: I too have been affected - my apologies.
Queen: It seems to be happening across Tokyo - delays of up to thirty minutes apiece.
Beside him, Akechi lets out a loud, ugly bark of a laugh. Akira doesn't find it quite so funny.
"What good fortune," he sneers, lip curling in disgust. "If this is Maruki's doing, I think we gravely overestimated him, Joker. Using fucking public transport to try and get his way -"
"You think he's trying to keep us away from the Palace?" Morgana asks, resting his chin on the edge of Akira's bag. Akira pets him absently behind the ears as he responds, telling the other thieves not to worry, keep him updated, and just get here as soon as possible.
"It's certainly convenient," Akechi scoffs. "Every dictator knows the importance of making the trains run on time. If he's let this slip, it's for a reason - though god knows what he's thinking. If he thinks a thirty minute delay will keep us from entering the Palace, he's sorely mistaken -"
Akira continues staring at his phone. Thirty minutes. He knows then, that this is Maruki's doing, but it's not an attempt to delay the inevitable - he'd let him and Akechi get here on time, after all, and Akechi is probably motivated enough to scale Maruki's Palace himself. No. This is an extension of Akira's wish, and another twist of the knife in his heart, trying to get him to accept the deal.
This is Maruki offering him thirty minutes alone with Akechi.
How fucking gracious.
...It nearly kills him that he's thankful.
"Morgana," Akira hears himself saying, interrupting Akechi mid-rant. The other boy falls silent immediately. "Would you mind... giving us a moment? Before the others get here?"
"...Sure, Joker," Morgana doesn't try to argue, even though he usually would have. Akira makes a mental note to buy him sushi later, after, as he lowers the bag to the ground, letting Morgana hop out and wander away. He hasn't even rounded the corner before Akechi starts laughing.
"Really, Kurusu? Was last night not enough for you? You still have more to say?"
Cruel. It was a cruel, horrible thing to say, even compared to everything else Akechi has said in the past month. But Akira knows why Akechi's doing it - can see the wild, dilated look of fear in his eyes, like a cornered animal. And he forgives him.
He's about to be just as cruel, anyway.
"Let's make a deal," he says, because old habits die hard.
"...A deal?" Akechi repeats, disbelieving. He crosses his arms across his chest, taking up a defensive stance. "You know, it's poor form to take advantage of a dead man."
His smile is vicious, too many teeth. Akira knows, innately, that it's the first time Akechi has said the words out loud. He wants to punch something.
"You owe it to me," is what he says instead - simple, emotionless and true. He can tell, just looking at Akechi's eyes, that he knows it too. After everything they've been through together, killing each other, watching each other die, Akechi owes him a debt Akira never actually planned on collecting. And maybe it should feel bad, emotionally blackmailing a dead boy, but Akira can't feel that way, he can't, because this is his one chance, and like hell is he going to let it slip through his fingers.
Akechi looks away from him first.
"...What do you want?"
Akira smiles listlessly. What a question. He wants more than Akechi can ever give, and certainly more than life has seen fit to give them. This little gift from Maruki would have to be enough.
"What's your favourite colour?"
Akechi looks blindsided. He swallows, tongue darting out to lick the chapped edges of his lips, and stares at Akira like he's grown a second head.
"What?"
"I want to get to know you," Akira says patiently, like he's explaining it to a child. He's a little in love with how Akechi's mouth curls in disgust.
"Now? Of all times, Kurusu?"
"No, actually, I've been trying for fucking months, Akechi," Akira bites back, letting a little bit of snap enter his voice, because Akechi wasn't the only one who was fucking angry right now, "But we've only got a few hours left now, so I'm going to be pushy. What's your favourite colour?"
Silence. More staring. Akechi is watching him with an expression Akira has never seen before. It reminds him of curtains, drawn across an open window - closed off, but with something sifting underneath it, like the stirring of a breeze, letting a few glimpses of sunlight into the room. Anger. Disdain. Confusion. And something a little more... raw. Akira's just about decided it's a wasted effort, Akechi isn't going to respond, when -
"Red."
His voice was so quiet, Akira almost thought he'd imagined it. He catches Akechi's eye and repeats it, just to confirm, "Red?"
"...Red," Akechi nods. He leans against the half-finished wall of the stadium, leaving an empty space next to him. Moving slowly, Akira takes the unspoken invitation for what it is, and slides in next to him.
"Why red?"
"Do you have to have a reason for your favourite colour, Kurusu?" Akechi asks dryly. Still, he fidgets with his gloves like he has more to say, so Akira remains silent until he does. "It's... bright. I guess. I liked Red Hawk from Featherman as a kid. When my... when my mother took me to the fireworks festival as a kid, she wore a red yukata. Just... little things like that."
Akira nods slowly, drinking it in. He has to force himself to go slow, to savour, instead of rushing through all the questions he knows he has. There's no way to get through all of them anyway.
"What's your favourite subject in school?"
"History. Memorising dates has always come easily to me. It's... simple."
"Have you ever had any pets?"
"No. My foster homes didn't like them, and I wasn't home often enough to look after one when I was emancipated."
"But you like animals, right?"
"Sorry, is that a question or an assumption?"
"Just answer the question, Akechi."
"Yes, Kurusu, I like animals. Though I might make an exception for your flea-bitten cat."
"What's your favourite animal?"
Time passes, all too quickly. Akira gets through ten, twenty, thirty questions in quick succession - all of them nonsensical, none of them important. When Akechi runs through his daily routine, he listens intently, trying to dedicate each step to memory. When he describes his favourite music (some jazzy number, the kind of song that plays at Jazz Jin), Akira promises to look it up later. When Akira asks about his favourite book, he studies how Akechi splutters and blushes, pushing at him until he finally admits it - The Crystal Stopper by Maurice Leblanc. Akira feels his own cheeks turn red.
Eventually, however... time runs out.
"Yo, Akira! Akechi!" He hears Ryuji hollering from down the street, too loud, accompanied by Ann, Haru and Futaba.
Akechi, who had been in the middle of describing his favourite meal, clamps his jaw shut with a snap. Akira watches his walls go back up in real time, a hint of steel behind his eyes, adjusting himself so he's no longer leaning against the wall, no longer in Akira's space. And Akira knows he should let it happen. It wouldn't be fair, after taking so much from Akechi, to ask any more of him. But he just can't help himself.
"Wait," he catches Akechi's wrist. Akechi turns on him almost instantly, eyes blazing.
"That's enough, Kurusu. You've had your thirty minutes. Let it go."
"Just one more, Akechi," he says, desperate, before the other thieves can cross the street and see them. He knows he's spiralling, losing the thread of himself after holding himself together all morning, but he's only human, and he's out of time. "Look, I - I still have your glove. If there's the slightest chance you survive this, I want you to promise -"
Akechi laughs, hard and humourless. Looking past him, Akira can see Morgana returning, Makoto and Yusuke in tow. He speaks even faster, voice low.
"I mean it, Akechi. If you wake up tomorrow, you have to tell me -"
"I won't be waking up tomorrow, Kurusu," Akechi hisses, withering. "Or do you want me to explain, in detail, what happened that night on Shido's ship? I noticed that didn't come up in your little game of twenty questions -"
"Akechi," Akira practically begs, and he knows its not fair, but none of this is fair, and his one moment of selfishness has left him wanting more. "I - look. Here."
Almost without thinking, he pulls off his glasses, thrusts them into Akechi's hand and wraps his fingers tightly around them. Beneath the fabric of his gloves, his hands are warm.
"The hell are you doing -"
"If this reality means anything, anything at all, you should still have my glasses when it ends," he says, rambling, not even convinced of what he's saying - but the thieves are just a few steps away now, and he has to do this. "If I wake up without them, I'll know, OK? So... just take them. Please, Akechi. Take them."
Akechi stares at him for a second that lasts an eternity. Akira stares back, eyes searching, trying to memorise the look on his face. But before they know it, the thieves are upon them - and Akechi simply nods, and slips the glasses into his pocket.
It feels like a weight has been lifted off Akira's shoulders. He breathes in, deeply, properly, for the first time since he woke up this morning, and has just enough time to plaster the mask back over his face before he turns to face his friends - portraying the confident, unshakeable leader they all need today. No-one suspects a thing.
He feels... better. Like he's done everything he can. And, if things still go wrong regardless... at least he can say, with absolute certainty, that he knew Akechi Goro.
And it was worth it.