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If Goro knows one thing about love, it is that it isn't something he deserves. He would say it is an impossibility. Like how blood couldn't be anything but red, couldn't be anything but tainting, and how someone who has been shot through the heart couldn't be alive. And yet, here he is, alive and well on the 24th of December.
The first thing he notices when he opens his eyes is an empty apartment. Well, empty is not the right word. Maybe something akin to... nothingness. It holds nothing that could be defined as a place to come back to. A home someone could return to. There was nothing but necessity, nothing that could describe him, nor the connections he built. Nothing. Then again, it's not like he doesn't keep everyone at arm's length. That he doesn't let anyone come close to him. He never thought that someone could love the real him, outside of the façade he cautiously built. The persona that lets him bask in attention, as empty as it seems to be. But he was an unwanted child, and every attention, as fake as it can get, might as well be genuine in his heart. He never felt such a thing as unconditional love, after all. To him, a relationship has always been a game of give-and-take, an agreement that benefits the two people involved. That outside of the deal, he would cease to exist.
So he could never comprehend that there would be someone that sees him for who he is, the real him. Rival, a term they both agree with. A rival that always pushes you, challenges you, and God, he never thought he could feel so alive. A rival that willingly spends time with him and enjoys his company. Him, the real him. Isn't that what he always wanted?
How tragic that relationship came from the very person that is fated to oppose him, to cross with him. The sun to his Icarus. The core of his existence. The only person that he ever builds genuine connection with, only for him to put a bullet to his head. Perhaps he is cursed to ruin anything he gets close to, after all. And yet, Akira's forgiveness is unrelenting, conviction unwavering, as he promises to take Shido's heart in his stead, that he would hold onto his gloves after he tried to end him. What an utter fool.
And yet, he can't get that memory out of his head. Akira may never know, but he would sacrifice himself again and again just to keep that smile to his face. Just to make sure his spirit is always free and heart is always beating. For that, he would do anything, even at the cost of his own life. That is why in that engine, Goro felt no regret, as he aimed his gun on his final opponent; feeling like life has been carved out of his soul as he draws his final breath.
In the very last moment of his consciousness, somewhere in the back of his mind, he thinks of Akira.
If there is one thing he could use to describe Akira, then it would be something akin to ocean waves on a quiet night; unyielding yet very gentle. Firm but somehow very kind (a kindness he doesn't deserve). Akira is selfless to a fault, altruistic in a way that hurts. A textbook hero that every child looks up to. Someone who saves the world and expects nothing in return. Like his every sacrifice is nothing compared to seeing humanity saved. But one point still stands: someone like Goro doesn't deserve someone like Akira. A villain is never destined to be with the hero. A murderer is never fated to be... with the Savior. Anything he touches is bound to die. His mother's suicide is a testament to that. All the murders he committed under Shido are further proof of that. All he touches dies in his hands, except, of course, Kurusu Akira.
Of course, the Hero would have defied death in some way or another. Of course, his years of intricate plans for revenge would fall over a singular slip. Oh, how the world truly favors the Hero over him.
But then again, perhaps it is a befitting end for him. In hindsight, he should have known that his plan was not without fault. He should have known that Shido would discard him anyway, even when he discarded his humanity for his sake. That Shido would not stop, even for his son, to get anything he wants and throw him away like a broken toy when he starts being anything other than useful. He was naïve and he only has himself to blame.
Perhaps that is the reason he closed that door in the engine room that day. Perhaps that is why he trusted Akira to change Shido's heart in his stead. Akira, the fool he is, of course, would say that he would. That he would hold onto his gloves and remember the promise that they made. A promise for another match. A promise for another duel. He truly wishes he could have met him earlier. Then again, when has life ever been kind to him?
Perhaps he deserves this, one way or another. His final fight to be with himself, of all things. A puppet of his father's cognition, a symbol of how everything he did will be thrown back to him. Justice has finally found its way to him. But he is not scared; truly, there is no future for someone like him. That is, until he finds himself alone in his empty apartment—unfortunately, pretty much alive, if the beat of his disgusting heart is anything to go by.
The gap in his memories is what he notices first. His lack of a bullet wound in his chest is something he notices second. And the unmistakable shift in his surroundings is what he notices last. His detective reputation may be fabricated, but his sharp mind isn't. He knows something is off. And if there is anyone who has experience with defying death, then that person would be Kurusu Akira. Of course, he thinks to himself as he gets out of bed, of course everything leads back to him. Of course everything revolves around him. He puts on some light makeup to hide his eye bags (not that he could hide the tiredness in his eyes), grabs his auburn coat, then steps outside of his apartment. As if on instinct, he lets his legs lead him to Shibuya, where he finally finds Akira, the source of everything and anything. The sun that every planet faithfully gravitates to, the personification of humanity's hope itself, is standing in front of him.
It was a shame, he thought to himself. How, after everything that he has done and accomplished, he is still fated to be locked away just so Shido could receive his judgment. It's not a destiny suited for someone like him—no, far from it. A trickster is someone who should be free; prison life is a disgrace to the elusive Leader of the Phantom Thieves. So much for the adults who are supposed to do their job, Loki stirs in him. If there is anyone who should be behind bars, it should be him. If there is anyone to blame for all this chaos, then it will be no one one but him. He thinks to himself as he approaches both his coworker and former rival.
"There is no need for that," his own voice pierces through the cold as the two people look back at him. "If they get their hands on the perpetrator, there'll be no need for him to turn himself in, no?" He says with firm determination. He sees Sae's startled expression and Akira's face morph from surprise into... melancholy? There is an unmistakable relief that spreads across his face. Why would he look at Goro like that? Why would he be relieved to see him alive? No one wants to see their murderer back from the grave. Confusion sets in his stomach as he looks at Akira.
"...Akechi?" Ah, how he missed that deep, rich, yet gentle voice. His former rival looks at him like he doesn't believe he's breathing, alive. Like he's scared that the moment he closes his eyes, Akechi will disappear. Like his existence is nothing but a fleeting moment of a dream. Nothing but an illusion. How sentimental, he thinks. Although perhaps, that sentimentality has affected him too.
"To think I'd get to see you so surprised... Honestly, it's pretty satisfying." He says with a smile, amused with how Akira look so unguarded. To think that his sudden intrusion would affect the stoic Leader, of all things, blooms satisfaction in his heart.
Convincing Sae to take him instead of Akira to testify against Shido proved to be quite easy. As he follows Sae through the cold. And yet, he can feel Akira's eyes trained on his back. Like he's afraid of losing him the second time. A fool, he thinks. That's what Akira is. There is no need to grieve for someone like him. His kindness is clearly misplaced. He thinks to himself, as he strides across the night; until Akira's figure is nowhere to be seen, lost in the snow that envelops Shibuya.
---
Time blurs past his eyes as he is interrogated and testifies numerous times in court.
Turning himself in is nothing, really. It is simply his ideal, after all, to repay his debts to the people he wronged. He knows that what he does will catch up to him, sooner or later.
It is fruitful, at least. Shido is finally found guilty, and he feels satisfied and relieved, to an extent. It's as if the justice he believed in when he was little was true, that he finally reaps what he sows. It might never compare to the pain he inflicted on him, and God knows how many people in Tokyo.
And so, imagine his surprise that after some questioning, he was released without any explanation. That they would set free the very person who had distressed the whole of Tokyo, without any further reason.
It didn't make sense, no, not at all. His brain is set into motion as he steps out of the police station, into the cold city of Tokyo. He tighten his scarf as he takes in his surroundings. Laughter clatter around him as families of three walked past him. Lovers stroll hand in hand, radiating happiness from their whole beings. And yet, there was something off about it. Their faces are all smiles, but their eyes were devoid of life. Lips stretched out higher than usual. As Goro tries to keep his expression in check, his brain works fast to figure out the reality of the situation. He unconsciously raises his hand to his chin, his signature detective move that he had practiced so many times that it came to him without a thought. His first instinct led him to Akira. If there is anyone who might have been the reason the very fabric of reality itself bent, then that would be Akira, golden boy Akira, the very person the whole world seemed to revolve around.
Seemingly content with his hypothesis, Goro decided to take the train to Yongen-jaya, a route he could remember like the back of his hand from how much he visited the place before things went south. As much as he hated to admit it, Leblanc had been his comfort place he could return to, secluded far from the eyes of people who expected too much of him, a place he could be himself, without his facade, where he could just be Akechi Goro, nothing more, nothing less.
The bell rings as he enters the cafe, heart nearly jumping out of his chest as he looks at... Wakaba Isshiki. Wakaba, alive and breathing, chatting with Sojiro and a blue-eyed man whose gaze seemed to pierce the darkness. His stomach churns as he looks at Akira, sitting by the stool, dragging him to the outside of the cafe as he calms his heart after the reality he just saw. Akira follows him without a word, trailing just slightly behind him until they reach the laundromat.
"Well then, let's try to sort through this situation." His voice rang through the cold early morning of Yongen-jaya. Akira just stares at him, looking hesitant and conflicted.
He is about to ask if Akira is in his right mind when a warm body is pressed against his. Arms hold him so tightly around his back, nails piercing his coat as Akira's head lays against his shoulder. Warm breath is hot against his neck. Goro's body tenses with the touch, shock spreading across his body, his mind short-circuiting. It takes some time until he is able to find his voice, to shake some sense into the raven. Irritation builds in his heart as he grabs Akira's shoulder and shoves him away.
What awaits him is a sight that startles him as warm droplets fall from his eyes, seeping through his coat. Silent sobs are the only sound that fills the already small room. His body shivers as Akira's warm and hoarse voice melts through the cold, "I'm sorry... I'm just... Let me stay like this for a moment." Goro's heart, once filled with anger, is now filled with an unmistakable, warm contentment that melts his cold heart. A feeling that soothes his entire being and calms his once anxious heart. Even as he mutters how Akira is nothing but a sentimental fool, the affection in his tone betrays his rather cutting words. What he whispers through his cold, chapped lips must have shown how he truly feels when Akira only tightens his arms around Goro's coat and buries his head in his shoulder.
Time moves slowly around them, like the sand that gradually falls in an hourglass. Sluggishly slipping through the cracks until the hour reaches its limits, then stopping moving altogether. All good things will come to an end. Good things are hard to come by when all you have ever done was make nothing but mistakes. Nothing but be cruel. It is hard to come when all you hold in your heart is nothing but hatred, deep loathing for the world, or perhaps for himself. No one has ever taught Goro how to love. Not even how to hold onto things that are alive. And yet, here in the embrace of his former enemy, his rival, his greatest wish, he feels loved for the first time.
Love, how funny, Goro thought to himself as he returned Akira's embrace, setting his hand around Akira's back and holding him closer to his chest. Perhaps I can indulge myself a little bit. What is a little bit of sin compared to all the mistakes he has made? Even when he may as well be a dead man walking, he holds onto his lifeline, as close as he can, until the cold January melts his once-frozen heart and guides him through the night.