Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Akechi comes back into their lives in late July, alongside an entire avalanche of Metaverse problems.

Yusuke isn’t present for either discovery, not the pocket of cognitive world around the heart of some fashion idol and not the long-lost enemy-teammate-broken mirror skulking around in there, but he gathers there was a lot of yelling. Ryuji’s voice, at least, is outright scratchy as he retells the events. Yusuke doubts Akira did any yelling, but he is unmistakably angry-quiet (distinct from regular, comfortable Akira-quiet) around Akechi for days afterwards, only unwinding once they’re on the road and the cramped sleeping arrangements reinforce Akechi’s status as a living, kicking, snoring person beyond the worst of paranoid doubt. Yusuke, who was there to hold Akira in the aftermath of Akechi’s original supposed death, and then several times later, whenever something stirred up the slumbering grief, is certain Akira’s relief far outweighs the anger, in any case.

He shares the feeling. It’s complicated – less complicated for him than some of the others, but for a few weeks in November he hated this man with a horrified passion, before that got diluted, muddled, and then overwritten almost entirely with two gunshots from behind a watertight door. He never knew Akechi enough to lose him, enough to miss him the way Akira did, but the memory of that moment has always scratched at his heart like a rusty nail, an aching sense of incompleteness. A heartbreak like waking up from a dream you wanted to see more of.

Yusuke doesn’t know if Akechi deserves the second chance, necessarily, doesn’t know how to decide who deserves that. But he knows feeling like a wasteland on poisoned soil, unable to support any life, incapable of having a future. Back in January, he thought he could see shy, tentative sprouts of greenery behind Akechi’s showing up to billiards with the team, starting conversations in the Monabus, letting Akira invite him out evening after evening.

He’s glad these sprouts weren’t, after all, crushed into non-existence upon their return from Maruki’s reality. He’s looking forward to seeing them grow.

The first night Goro sleeps in the tent – too small and too hot for four people and a cat, but his objections got overridden – he gets pinched awake at an awful hour.

Waking up early enough to have time for a meticulous morning routine used to be second nature, but he’s out of practice. Too foggy with sleep to demand to be left alone in words, he simply growls incoherently in the direction of the pinching hand, in hopes that that will be enough to convey the meaning.

Instead, it only earns him a whisper-hiss of “Dude, come on,” and a tug on his T-shirt. Goro turns around and buries his face in the shitty travel pillow. The poking doesn’t stop.

“Come on, we’re going for a run,” still under his breath. Why is other people’s sleep not to be disturbed, while Goro has to deal with this? With– great, now his fucking ear is getting tugged. “Akechi-i-i…”

Goro resigns himself to cutting his losses and sits up to glare at the annoyance. He’d really rather not murder Sakamoto, but if he has to, he figures he should at least do that outside, so he begrudgingly lets himself be pulled down the ladder before he rounds up on him.

“You have five seconds to explain why you thought–”

“Hey, I’m doing you a favor,” Sakamoto says quickly, hands raised in front of him – and then extended as if to catch something. “Oh, wait– Mona, here–”

There’s a blur of black and white from behind, and then Sakamoto stumbles under the projectile from the RV roof, but keeps his balance.

“He’s right,” Morgana says seriously, wiggling out of Sakamoto’s hands to jump to the ground safely. “You don’t want to be there for the forty minutes of morning cuddles.”

For the– Goro glances up at the tent. Oh, right, that was already a thing when he was on the team before, both times. Because of course Akira is going to land the most ethereal boy in Tokyo in between all his other feats. The fact that he’s fucking weird aside.

Whatever. Goro doesn’t see how that relates to the extra hour of sleep he really wanted. “I’m sure they can behave in company,” he posits, crossing his arms.

“Yea-ah, they’re not going to,” says Sakamoto with the certainty of someone with sleepover experience. “And anyway – they’ve been long distance for months, you know? We’d better let them have a moment.” He lightly kicks the air in front of his foot, shakes out the embarrassment of being considerate.

Isn’t everyone sweet. Absolutely adorable.

“...Okay, well, I don’t give a shit. Don’t fucking pinch me again,” Goro says, and climbs back up into the tent.

…

…He does manage to drift off for some minutes longer, but… Sakamoto wasn’t kidding, these two really have no intention to tone it down for his sake. It seems that half-awake Kitagawa is simply not aware enough of anything besides some kind of rapid-onset touch hunger, and if Akira even registers Goro’s presence (uncertain), he, apparently, doesn’t consider it more important than– squeezing Kitagawa as close as possible, and– putting his hands all over him, and– whispering something that Goro doesn’t want to listen to, and– oh god, this is so awkward.

Simply unbearably awkward. Sakamoto and the cat were right.

The next morning, Goro is out of the tent even before them, already tying his hair back when Sakamoto clambers out. It is, after all, important to keep yourself in shape. A morning run sounds like a great idea, now that he thinks about it.

“This is sho good!”

“Oh, oh, dibs on the biggest piece of crab!”

“Akira, you keep surpassing yourself with every new dish, this is divine–”

Goro shifts his weight impatiently. The hot pot does smell incredible, but he’s still off-kilter after the latest Metaverse excursion, and the commotion is grating on his nerves.

“Alright, does this have to be amateur food critic hour every time?” he snaps. “Can we just eat and get a move on?”

“Hey!” Sakamoto jabs his chopsticks in Goro’s direction. “You haven’t even tried it! This stuff deserves the hype!”

“You have not tried it?!” Kitagawa exclaims, sounding like he just learned of a great tragedy. “It’s imperative that you do!”

“I. Don’t have an appetite,” Goro says through gritted teeth.

Kitagawa does not relent. “No, I cannot stand by as you miss out on Akira’s latest masterpiece – you must allow yourself to be undone by the flavor and meatiness! Here–”

“I–” Goro tries, but before he can finish the protest, Kitagawa is in front of him with a piece of crab held up to Goro’s mouth. Goro feels a distant instinct to swat it away, but it’s somehow overpowered by how close Kitagawa is – his cloudy-night eyes pinning Goro in place, and his other hand, cupped to catch stray drops of broth, almost touching the divot between Goro’s collarbones.

Despite himself, Goro opens his mouth, slowly, mechanically, feeling like a child. Kitagawa places the food on his tongue with tender reverence to the crab, and Goro takes a careful bite before he can realize how ridiculous he looks from the outside.

He weathers the snickers from the peanut gallery with whatever remains of his dignity (“Say ‘a-ah’, Goro-chan!”) and grabs the piece of crab with his bare hands before Kitagawa can continue feeding him bite by bite.

It really is quite delicious.

Standing a bit to the side from everyone else, Akechi undoes and redoes his ponytail back and forth, an expression of anxiety much more overt than Akira has ever seen on him. He’s clearly waiting for his turn to get approached, so Akira walks up to him, waits silently to hear whatever it is he has to say.

Akechi grimaces, as if bracing himself to get through this conversation.

“Ugh.” Hair tie off, on again – one loop, two – off again. “Listen.”

The hair tie goes on his wrist. He makes eye contact, clearly despite a strong desire to avoid looking at Akira at all.

“I know this hardly means anything now, after the fact, but – I really would have turned myself in to bail you out. If it came to that. Both this time and before. I had no intention–”

“Akechi, it’s fine,” Akira interrupts. "I’m not mad you didn’t show up in February. Or– I am, but it’s not about the arrest.”

Akechi raises an eyebrow.

“All the yelling sure seemed to be about that,” he points out.

Akira ducks his head to stifle a fond smile. “Ryuji is... protective. But it all worked out back then, for me, and I don’t know if it would have for you. So I’m glad you stayed away, if anything. I just wish we didn’t– didn’t have to believe you were dead this whole time.”

Akechi looks away after all, his resolve to meet Akira’s eye going slack.

“Shouldn’t you people have been happy with that?” he asks, quietly caustic.

“You know I wasn’t,” Akira says simply and unshakably. “You know that.” For a moment, the summer breeze on their skin turns cold, biting with February chill, clenched fistfuls of coat sleeves, and hoarse-voiced arguments.

Akechi doesn’t say anything back, so maybe – Akira hopes – he does know that, on some level. He doesn’t ask where Akechi was for half a year, what he was so busy with he couldn’t let them know, but he has his suspicions. Something about Akechi’s subtle, washed-out lethargy from the beginning of the trip was… familiar. He remembers what it feels like to spend months in a haze, on autopilot, unable to hold a real conversation or perform any action that means anything at all. Remembers what it feels like for the only life you knew to fall apart under your feet.

The silence turns heavy, awkward. Akira tugs on his fringe consideringly, and then stretches his hand out, palm up.

“...What?” Akechi asks eventually, when Akira doesn’t explain the gesture.

“Where’s my souvenir?” Akira says, pouting just subtly enough to balance on the edge of teasing and mockery.

“What souvenir.”

“Everyone else had something for me,” Akira flicks his wrist, showing off the friendship bracelet, shoots a glance over his shoulder at the mask. “What do I get from you?”

Akechi looks at him flatly.

“Has to be something impressive, to make up for trying to kill me this one time and all. Two times. Bu-ut Sumire made an entire scrapbook, gonna be hard to top that...”

“I don’t have a fucking souvenir for you, Kurusu,” Akechi says, exasperated but visibly thawing, easing into the banter. “You’re just going to have to make do with a slightly smaller pile of gifts.”

“Aww,” Akira says, playing up his disappointment. “Kind of embarrassing for you, huh?” he dodges Akechi’s kick at his calf and grins.

“...How about this,” he adds, a bit more serious. “For your gift, come see me off.”

“What?”

“Don’t just vanish again as soon as we’re back to the city. Come to the station with everyone, wave at me from the platform. You were part of the team this month. Stay until the end of this chapter, at least. That’ll be my souvenir from you.”

Akechi blinks at him, eyes wide with– something. Incomprehension, maybe. Some kind of tortured gratitude. Something.

“...Fine,” is all he says in the end. “I’ll be there.”

Yusuke misses most of the parting remarks, too busy trying to cement the feeling of the warmth of Akira’s touch in his memory, somehow make it last until they are finally, eventually, reunited. The reluctance to continue the day as an incomplete group seems unanimous, everyone falling off one by one to go miss Akira by themselves or in pairs – starting with the most awkward and most unlikely addition to the send-off party. Yusuke watches Akechi’s back almost disappear into the train station crowd and realizes, with sudden clarity, how final this disappearance is going to be. Akechi’s presence on this road trip was an exception made in response to a world-ending emergency – if no other gods show up to infringe on the humanity’s collective will, which Yusuke rather hopes will be the case, none of them are likely to see Goro Akechi again, no matter how tentatively interwoven into the group dynamic his presence feels at this point.

Yusuke has had enough goodbyes for one day. He hastily waves the remaining others off and sets out to catch up, charting a determined path through the crowd.

Akechi tenses up when Yusuke falls into step next to him, but Yusuke is getting better at reading him in real time, rather than just catching a vague dissonant chord in his expression and puzzling over it for days afterwards. So now: the abruptness of the tension means it’s a sign of surprise and not genuine annoyance, and the way he tilts his head, letting his hair hide the side of his mouth, means he’s pleased and doesn’t want to show it. Yusuke smiles, content with his deductions.

“Don’t you have anyone else to spend time with?” Akechi sighs, fidgeting with a strand of his bracelet. “Did Akira put you up to this?”

“Have you ever gone people-watching, Akechi-kun?” Yusuke asks, ignoring the questions. “I wonder if your detective background would provide a unique perspective – I have a few favorite spots around the city, and if you’d be willing to accompany me today, one of them is within walking distance from here, provided you don’t mind the heat...”

He speeds up as he talks, pulling Akechi along instead of chasing after him now. Yusuke pays attention to that, to the pace of their step – it’s a subtle change, but he can tell when it evens out, settles into companionable.

For all Akechi’s spiky exterior, it doesn’t take long.

“This looks like a penguin.”

“Only because you folded the head wrong; allow me to do it properly–”

“It’s because you need actual paper for this, look at it, it’s falling apart–”

“Hey guys, I’m closing up,” Akira says, placing a quick kiss on the crown of Yusuke’s head on his way to turn the door sign around. Yusuke startles, surprised at the time.

“Oh, is it that late already?” Goro says, a little too smoothly. “And I barely did any studying…”

Lying doesn’t make his voice sound as gratingly sweet as it used to, years ago, but Yusuke still frowns at the artificial aftertaste. It does not seem worth bringing attention to, though – if Goro is avoiding his college responsibilities, Yusuke doesn’t have any room to judge, not when he’s putting his own assignments off just so he can walk with Akira after his shift. The extra moments of time together are worth the wait, but these evenings spent at Akira’s various workplaces stretch long, so he counts himself lucky that Goro has been favoring this spot for his after-class study sessions as well. Lately, whenever Yusuke comes here, he shows up too, sets out his law school homework and then ignores it in favor of discussing Ango Natsume’s comeback novel, or holding a pose Yusuke needs to reference for a sketch, or attempting napkin origami.

Now that the wait is over, they abandon the failed art project and put their things away, flip the chairs up onto tables to help Akira wrap up faster. Yusuke takes a break to frame the background with his fingers, struck with appreciation of the quiet intimacy of a normally public space now empty and dark. Most of the lights are already off, and that draws more focus to the soft glow of the streetlamps outside, illuminating slowly falling snow, like a view from inside a snow globe.

He catches Goro following his finger-frame with his eyes and directs it at him next. He looks away quickly, turning to the window instead, and then seems to get caught up in the same wonder Yusuke is taking his time noticing.

“I should pay more attention to details of seasonality,” Yusuke muses, walking up to him to watch the snowfall together. “Transmundane themes can hardly be accessed without a solid understanding of the ever shifting cycle of our environment, as well as our own relationship to it… Snow and cold, for example, are often used as a symbolic shorthand for sadness or detachment, but there is clearly a comforting aspect to them as well… Goro, how would you explore that?”

“I’m not very familiar with this kind of theme myself,” Goro says, tapping his chin in thought. “Hm… winter sports come to mind, I suppose? Not much you can do in the city but– have you ever been ice skating?”

“Oh! Oh, you’re right, that would be the perfect way to follow up on the storybook winter aesthetic! I have to dedicate a day to trying it out as soon as possible, this weekend– have you ever been?” When Goro shakes his head – “Then would you share the discovery with me?”

Goro takes a moment to answer, and his eyes flash with a flicker of some emotion Yusuke can’t immediately identify, but all he says is, “...You should probably go with Akira.”

“Naturally I hope Akira can come as well– Akira! Akira, do you have work on Sunday?”

Akira pokes his head out of the back of the coffee shop, where he’s doing some final tidying up.

“Sorry, darling, I’m booked all week. But I’ll make time later, where do you want to go?”

“Ice skating, but– it’s alright, I’ll go with Goro, he should be free on the weekend. Am I correct to assume so, or are you busy as well?”

“I’m– not busy, but–”

“Then it’s settled!”

“But this really seems like something for you and Akira,” Goro stresses again. Yusuke isn’t sure what the issue is, so he looks to Akira for a cue. Akira only smiles back – and although it seems a little stiff, that must be a play of light, because he doesn’t confirm Goro’s assertions.

“No, you can go together. It’s fine.”

Goro grinds his teeth and clashes his gaze with Akira’s like a samurai drawing his sword.

“Is it.”

Akira nods.

Goro’s voice turns cutting. “You mean you’re fine missing out on introducing Yusuke to the ‘comforting aspect of winter’ for the first time? Quite happy to spend your day at part time job number seven, by yourself, while someone else takes your boyfriend ice skating under Christmas lights?”

Akira’s jaw flexes, and Yusuke feels like he might be genuinely missing something. Is there some sort of problem he’s not aware of? A rule of romance he doesn’t know he’s breaking?

Before he can ask, Akira breaks the standoff to turn around and go lock up the staff room.

“...Yusuke, if you want to go with him, you should,” he says, still facing away from them.

“...I– I do,” Yusuke says, at a loss. “Do you not want me to–?”

“It’s fine,” Akira says again, firmly closing the lid on the argument. “You should go, then. And– I’m done, let me walk you home.”

The shadow of the unexplained conflict doesn’t taint the walk. Yusuke holds Akira’s hand on the way and kisses him on the dorm steps, and by then Akira’s sullen streak seems to pass without a trace. On Goro’s side, whatever made him so wound up about the topic, it doesn’t stop him from sending Yusuke an article on the best skating rinks in Tokyo to choose from, with notes on his own suggestions.

So it seems to really be fine, in the end.

That was probably nothing.