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“Do you think Scrooge had a Palace?”
"The story certainly alludes to that, doesn't it?"
Akira hummed in response to the following observation as he waited for the coffee beans to finish grinding.
Lately, a certain detective has been stopping by Leblanc more often as the weather became colder with a smooth hint of anticipation that could only be hidden by bittersweet coffee drunk as a vice. Sometimes with an honest frown, sometimes with a plastic smile. The 20th of November was a gale of trepidation roaring between them, the final showdown on who would fall first and who would break later. The end of the line they had built in this little shop was becoming thinner by the minute– and it was in quiet moments like this when he wondered if they would ever get to see Christmas day.
He was trying to find a silver lining, but how can you find an inch of pearly white with all that red and black staining the path?
There was not a day when Akira didn’t imagine asking his would-be-murderer if he needed help. There is always a reason one would forsake their justice and become a weapon. Just like one would ignore reason and allow hurt to linger, just like one would prefer blindness over unvarnished truths, and just like Akira himself would punch a stupid drunk and get himself labelled as a delinquent on probation. He knows the damage society can make to your cognition of yourself, so how is it that someone who preaches about justice can hurt others with a smile?
But he couldn't ask. The words wouldn't even take form, let alone be spoken out loud. So he swallowed his words and always wondered. Besides, there was absolutely no way for Akechi to confess. The truth would only come out if he wins the game, and when he does… when their masks have been removed and the truth has been laid bare, then Akira will invite him for some coffee and ask him why.
If he survives. Which he will. The odds were in their favour, he thinks.
Until then, with a noose swinging over their heads and coffee roast masking the bitter air around them, they could sit here and indulge cup after cup of Leblanc’s house blend with a hint of smokey hazelnut to drown the anticipation of what was to come as their coping mechanism. Jazz Jin was a sanctuary, but this was home.
Brew ready, he was swift as he crafted another cup and slid the saucer to waiting black gloves just as the other boy started to talk.
“Dickens exploits the holiday theme of the holly miracle to conjure a moral conversion of the cartoonish execution of greed manifested into the most deplorable man. We see his corruption unravelled through a magical journey of redemption, where his past wrongdoings and future consequences weigh heavy in his soul, creating a distortion of avarice and loneliness at his own hand. His actions led to ruin, not of the world, but of himself”
Akechi disclosed, taking a small break to sip his coffee before continuing.
“His profound transformation can be viewed as a philosophical journey from existential isolation to altruistic connections. Initially, Scrooge's world is confined to his own material gains; his heart hardened by greed. However, the spectral visits provoke a deep introspection that shatters this self-imposed isolation. Yet in the end, it is that selfish greed to preserve himself for the better that might have the power to change the way others perceive him through his future actions”
He finished with a satisfied hum.
And then Akechi grimaced, breaking that sweet detective mask for a sour-faced one the second he finished his monologue, knowing perfectly well the utter bullshit Akira was going to sprout in return by his grin alone.
“So” He fixed his glasses with a teasing grin “Would you say Scrooge had a change of heart ?”
The thieves had made it a tradition to celebrate Christmas Eve together.
They have summer trips and lunches on weekends and weekdays whenever anyone is free or available. University has been more demanding than Palaces were, but Christmas Eve was a holy tradition no one wanted to miss for obvious reasons. Nothing could really beat shooting a false God in the face with the power of friendship and rebellious youth on Christmas day after all.
It was also the anniversary of entering the reality-that-never-was that held their innermost wishes, but Akira does not celebrate that. At all. Does not think about it. Tries very hard not to wish for anything whenever his thoughts drift to Christmas wishes for too long. Even if his heart aches, he refuses to think about it. Like a dusted photo album buried underneath moth-eaten sweaters in a hidden box under his bed, he didn’t dare touch it, fearing it would crumble.
To him, Christmas, New Year, and Valentine's Day did not exist on the calendar. His life didn’t start until late February when he was settling back in his hometown with a talking cat in his bag as his only proof of his illicit affairs in the metaverse and ended with cosy drinks, loud cheers and bright laughter on the Eve of it all.
He didn’t have a choice but to be present, though. Now that he was a respectable young man with a clear record, he was expected to celebrate the family tradition.
The first Christmas was as awkward as it could get. His parents didn’t hate him, but they also didn’t support him. It was bitter sometimes, seeing them cower in guilt and self-hurt at never having believed him. It said something that strangers in a huge city put their hearts on his hands but his parents never could.
But Akira never let it bother him; tried not to.
He helped cook dinner and prepared them coffee for a Christmas dinner that was stifling and a little forced. Half jokes were met with cut-off speeches, tales were never finished and expectations were made. When it was time to open presents, he had more fun putting on a tiny sweater on a struggling Mona than having to explain for the tenth time about his respectable job at Crossroads.
It was the last Christmas he had at home.
Next year, with University on the menu, Leblanc became his permanent residence and the center point of all reunions. With a stable income thanks to his many part-time jobs, he decorated it in full Joker extravaganza, as Futaba would cackle. It never really bothered him before, but there was a sort of catharsis to hang unmatching ornaments and see them come together in an imperfect masterpiece, as Yusuke would lovely put it.
With the place to himself after closing hours, he would sit under the little plastic tree he and Ryuji scavenge with the help of Mishima, counting piles of presents ready to be delivered with only Morgana keeping him company all through the nights.
When the Eve had come and the presents were gone, he still sat under it. It looked too real to be fake, and it sometimes smelled like pine too when he stayed close for too long. Hopefully, it's a manufacture feature and not something else for being half the price. But with no more gifts under it, looking empty and lonely despite the garlands and colorful decorations, Akira crafted two cups of coffee and laid them down.
And then for the first time in almost two years, he tugged his precious treasure out of his hiding place in his left pocket.
A black glove.
It was hard not to hope, when you were holding a promise in your hands. It was hard not to dream, when you stayed up all night. Oh how their lives could have been so different… Yet again, they wouldn't be themselves without that pain. Selfish, selfish, Akira almost ruined them. Thank god Akechi was way too angry to resist Maruki’s condescending brainwash of healing.
Akira could imagine what he would say if he saw him moping like this. Probably laugh at his foolish sentimentality, probably kick him for sitting on the floor like a forgotten present and most definitely yell at him when the clock struck twelve and Christmas did not bring a ghost back.
Sometimes he swears he could feel all that metaphysical abuse.
Or maybe he has really lost his mind.
Or maybe this was his coping mechanism.
He knows it's selfish, to wish for someone who has hurt so many.
He knows it's not healthy, to be so entrapped by someone who flirted with death on every waking moment and left without much of a goodbye.
But Akira didn’t know greed. He was a better man than Ebenezer Scrooge who had held his treasure close for it to create a distortion. Akira gave his heart to his friends and everyone who needed it. Not because it scared him to be alone and be forgotten in the coming years, or because he wanted a divine being to take pity on him and grant him another wish, but because he understood the simple act a cup of coffee on a cold night can do.
And when Christmas morning came, he tugged the black glove and all his unspoken desires back to their safe place.
The next Christmas, with a belly full of fried chicken and sparkling soda, because despite being of age none of them had good memories with alcohol, he sat once more under his tree, this time decorated in red and blue candy canes and Featherman figurines. The Thieves had played board games, watched movies and sang karaoke together for hours. It was as ridiculous as it could get with eight teenagers on the cusp of adulthood and one yowling cat who wasn’t a cat.
It was brilliant.
Even when Futaba gave them all a scare when she had gasped loudly at having her meta-activity program pick up something. It was brief, just a blink and they all missed it. It was probably an elf, Ryuji had joked, making Futaba rant about possible Christmas shadows and for Morgana and Yusuke to go on and on about the magic of Santa and Jack Frost playing a prank for all the times they used him in battle.
But when nothing more came of it, they let it go, soon forgotten by their secret Santa exchange.
Akira still left two cups of coffee just in case.
The season came and went, exams and projects built up, there almost wasn’t enough time to take decorations down only to put them out again when the snow announced its gentle presence.
But somehow he managed.
Christmas Eve was here again.
A third successful party had them all wearing funny hats and ugly sweaters. Haru had baked cookies that Yusuke gloriously decorated in abstract patterns. Ann had brought cake Makoto wouldn’t stop nagging about all the sugar they were consuming, even when she was on her fourth plate. A movie was still running in the background, but everyone preferred to complain about their upcoming finals and what they were going to do once they stopped being students.
Everyone was a bit more tired with their school and their internships. Their meetings had reduced greatly this year, everyone was all over Tokyo and their schedules were hard to match sometimes. But they never let it bother them, meeting once a month was worth the smiles and laughter.
Akira was serving their favourite fried chicken when unexpectedly, the cheer was interrupted by a loud yell.
“Woah!”
“What is it, Fuutaba?”
“Remember how last year, there was a spike of meta activity like a window opening a small pocket dimension?” The now pink-haired girl fixed her glasses as she stared at her laptop screen “I got another reading. It’s bigger, definitely a door from the other side”
“What does that mean?” Ann questioned “Is the metaverse back?”
“I don’t see the app”
Everyone searched their phones, new and old models, yet the blinking red eye wasn’t there.
“What if it's a residue from that last fight?” Makoto inquired “We did break reality and fought the fake god controlling the masses. Perhaps a rupture in the fabric remained and it's still bleeding”
“Good theory, Queen” Futaba said as she immediately went to type like crazy “I’m expanding the search in radius. Maybe we missed something last year, or maybe it's Sophie jumping engines”
“In the meantime, does anyone want more cake?” Haru offered, bringing back sighs and cheers.
Right, the human-coded-metaverse. Just when they thought they were done with the metaverse, a new app allowed them to wear their masks again. But as every meta journey is wont to do, they defeated the final boss and said goodbye to their personas once more.
In his mind, Arsene ruffled his wings as if offended.
Their physical incarnations, Akira amended, gaining a huff from Metatron.
“It’s still weird” Ann said with a spoonful of cake and a frown “What if the metaverse opens each year? We can no longer access it so we’d never know”
“I mean, it’s possible. Who's to say you always need a phone to enter? Maybe someone found a new way to access it”
“What if someone falls into it?”
“Man, don’t even joke!”
“Even if somehow someone discovered it, they wouldn’t know how to venture it unless they have a guide”
“M-Maybe they do...” Futaba said it so quietly, it was almost as if she wasn’t even going to say it out loud. Her loud click-clacking had stopped and it was her pale face that had most of them crowding behind her to see the screen and whatever it was that had spooked her.
“Is that?” Yusuke gasped.
“Is this for real?!”
“Akira” Ann breathed, reaching a hand towards him without looking away from the screen.
Intrigued, and with his heart beating loudly in his throat because… because… Akira approached the packed table to peer at what had everyone paling and freezing. Only to freeze in return at the image of a ghost himself dressed for Christmas.
And there he was.
Akechi Goro, wearing a stylish coat with a fluffy hood, snarling and digging his heels, was being manhandled by men in suits into a car.
Akechi Goro. Fluffy. Snarling. Manhandled. Suit men.
Akechi Goro. Fluffy.
Akechi.
“Akira?”
“Where?”
“Inaba” Futaba gulped before composing herself at the laid-out mystery and went back to typing “It’s a town in the middle of nowhere, their population is as small as their crime rates. But there were some weird murder cases involving a midnight channel ten years ago”
“What, like spooky tv activity?”
“Kinda? Seems Meta to me. I’m trying to breach the files but they’re locked super tight for some middle-of-nowhere town!”
“When was this picture taken?”
“I got the ping 4 hours ago. I can’t find any more sightings of him anywhere, I only got this because it was reflected through a conveniently placed mirror at a konbini window”
“Okay, but how is he even alive!?” Ryuji exclaimed what everyone was thinking.
“That’s assuming he died in the first place”
“Then where the hell has he been? If this is the first time Futaba got a reading of his mug shot”
“What if whoever those suit men are working for plucked him out of the metaverse?”
“That would mean he has been living in the metaverse for almost two years”
“That’s…” Ann shook her head, perturbed by the thought alone.
Akira took a step backwards until he was leaning on the bar stool. What even… what? There was so much he wanted to say and think but the only thing his mind could come up with was incredulous relief. He hadn’t even made his coffee ritual under his fake tree to wish for something, and yet here he was. Akechi Goro, in the flesh! Miles and miles away in the company of strange men but all that mattered was that Akechi was back in the land of the living where Akira can follow.
His loud heart dimmed the thieves' chatter as he tried to make sense of the situation. If last year's reading was Akechi, then it means he’s been alive for years and had never dared to contact Akira, not even to taunt him. And if those men in suits were the reason for his disappearance, then that meant that Akechi was being forced, again, to venture into the metaverse by himself by forces out of their control, again.
And he was clearly not happy about it.
“What are we going to do?” Ann bemoaned “We don’t have access to the metaverse anymore”
Leblanc fell quiet for a minute.
Then the grim silence was broken by Ryuji, followed by Haru.
“I have a bat”
“I have bodyguards!”
“I can get a deal with Iwai” Akira added.
“Wait a minute! No one is committing vandalism” Ever the voice of reason, Makoto shut down any threatening ideas “First, we must discover where he is going and who these men are working-
Her speech was cut by Futaba screeching.
“That snake! I knew it! I knew he was a traitor! That two-faced lying bubble pancake!”
“Futaba-chan!?”
“He betrayed the Leblanc Fam!” She cried in indignation, slamming her hand on the table in outrage.
“What? What did he do now!?”
“He’s hugging a dog!”
“Eh?”
The table became crowded as everyone peered down at the screen once more.
And there he was again.
Akechi Goro, in all his grumpiness glory, glaring ahead as if he was walking to his execution while planning his executioner's murder, was hugging a white dog to his chest as if it held all the answers of the universe and was willing to kill anyone who dared take him from him.
The situation was serious, but they couldn’t deny…
“Aw” Ann cooed in delight.
“Futaba” Akira fixed his glasses to stop them from sliding down.
“Yeah, yeah, it’s already on your phone”
Akira set the precious picture as his background wallpaper because… because .
“Is that a train?” Haru pointed.
“Good eye, Noir!”
“Where is it going? Futaba, can you track it?” Makoto insisted.
“There’s no name in the system, the cameras were suspiciously down as he boarded so whoever is escorting him, they don't want anyone to find him”
“Damn it”
“Do you think he’s being coerced?”
“As if Akechi will let anyone control him”
“True”
“What if he’s being blackmailed? Should we call your sister?” Ann wondered, the last part being addressed to Makoto.
“I mean, Sis has been looking for him, true. But the situation will complicate if the metaverse is involved”
“Should we involve the old man?” Yusuke asked, thinking of Zenkichi.
“What dirt do they have on him that could be effective, though? It can’t be… you know, if they want to use it too. He can use it against them”
“We’re getting ahead of ourselves. We don’t know who this party is nor their intentions with Akechi-kun or method of operation”
“We also don’t know what Akechi-kun will gain in return” Haru stated normally. It wasn’t meant to sound accusing, but Akira felt a dagger stabbing his ribs at the mere idea of being pitted against each other again.
“Man, I feel like every time we meet Akechi, it is to defy another controlling God on the winter holidays”
“Please don’t jinx us”
“Still, we need to be prepared for anything”
“As I said, I have a bat”
“I can double the guards”
“I can get a good deal with Iwai”
“We’re not smashing, threatening or vandalizing anyone!”
“What a barbaric behaviour, skull”
“Haru is the one with the brute force!”
They continue to debate among themselves. Wondering, trying to guess and plan what to do next. The thrill of the hunt was starting to boil, it was like planning one last heist to some unnamed Palace with the odds against their favour. They have worked with less, so he’s confident they would succeed in whatever adversity they fall into.
Deep in thought, his mental counting on the Personas in his rooster was broken by Futaba yelling again.
“THE CROW HAS LANDED! I REPEAT! THE CROW HAS LANDED!”
There was a dramatic pause as everyone turned to her for answers, waiting and anticipating. And like a good kōhai, she fixed her glasses and made them wait for it.
“Shibuya!”
Snow fell from grey clouds that were being coloured by neon lights.
It was a picturesque frame, one he had never appreciated.
“Nostalgic?” Narukami asked at his side.
“I’ve always hated Tokyo’s winter nights”
“Maybe not anymore”
Goro ignored the jab, as he had for the past hours, days and weeks that led to this trip.
Kijiro Mitsuru had the brilliant idea to award their yearly efforts by throwing a Christmas party. Why it had to be in Tokyo of all places when their base of operation was half a day away by train ride was a clear attack against Akechi.
It’s not like he was hiding his intentions last year or the year before that. They knew where he was so why must they insist on being here again when he felt stronger than before?
Watching that fool mope under a plastic Christmas tree as if waiting for a plastic ghost to visit him was a peculiar sight. But no matter how much Goro sneered, yelled and tried to step on him, he wasn’t heard. He agonized over it the first year, the second he mulled over it, and stared at the untouched coffee until his body faded from view.
Dying in the metaverse and being the chosen Wildcard of a petty, fake god made it so that Akechi had the losing hand. Waking when he had chosen to sleep was torture, but to realize he had lost not just his body, but voice and social consciousness in the real world was the nail in his cognitive coffin.
He was Schrodinger's cat, dead but alive. Alive but dead.
His cognitive being had washed ashore while the Shadow Ops were conducting an exploration and they had ‘rescued him’ under misjudged intentions. Oh how wrong they had been to consider him a lost soul.
When the truth had come in a spiteful hatred match of screams and shouting, he was labeled a danger to himself and put under watch by a talking bear and a silent dog. As if being babysat by cognitive abominations was worse than being stuck inside a winter land without being able to leave but for one day.
As if being allowed to be part of a group and go on missions was less hurtful than being a phantom himself.
He hated it. Hated himself. But he wasn’t going to allow them to decide what to do with him. So he tagged along on reckoning missions. That he was a Wildcard helped greatly to complete the dangerous missions, and he took pride in it. It was enough to sustain him, having to see his team wave goodbye as they crossed to the real world and left him in his mind cage.
Feelings, what feelings? He was fine. He appreciated the solitude.
The chattering bear, not so much.
Surprisingly enough, he got along best with Shirogane-san.
At first, he resented them. He would have thought that talking, let alone working alongside them would have increased his bitter jealousy which would then lead to simmering hatred and urge to outshine them. After all, what was he, a false idol compared to a true detective prince?
But their discussions had never been to diminish or show superiority. True, he loves showing off, and Shirogane-san was not one to shy away from a mystery. But there was no malice. There was no itch of wanting to impress or knock down from their position or even banter like a certain rival once made him do at two a.m... No, it was a mutual exchange of solving murder cases together and taking pride in solving it first.
He wasn’t a friend, but he wasn’t a mentor either.
Akechi sort of liked it.
Who he did not like was Narukami himself. Another golden boy born with a silver spoon and the power of friendship that came with it; a carousel of personas, friends and a solution on a silver platter that made him the protagonist of a shonen show. His careless attitude reminded him too much of a certain someone he refused to think about, so Goro couldn’t quite control his hostility through the first year. He didn’t try for the next one either.
Narukami, being the good samaritan that he was, didn’t have vile intentions when he teased him and took him under his wing as the ‘Wildcard-senpai’, so he always took it in stride when Akechi responded with threats and half-attempted murders.
Sanada was so disappointed that time, Ken a little amused.
But then it was Pink Argus herself who talked him out of murder.
Yosuke and Junpei always find a way to remind him of that embarrassing talk.
With a sigh, he patted Koromaru on the head twice before setting him down. Tokyo might have forgotten him, but he didn’t want to attract attention by walking around with a cuddling dog in his arms. No matter how warm he was or the sad whine he got in return, they both will survive it.
While his cognition could only cross on the Eve of a miracle day, he would have preferred to stay inside and enjoy his time reading or playing chess with Aegis.
Instead here he was, Fate's punching bag.
Really, he was dreading coming to Tokyo precisely for this very same reason. Akechi couldn’t say why he turned his head, there was no name being called, no force pulling him, nothing that should have made him stop to look back.
But he did.
And there he was.
Standing on opposite sides of the crossroads, his antithesis was staring at him like a fool with a Christmas hat.
And oh.
Of course he could see him now.
Cars were rushing in blurs of colours as snow decorated the ground.
Shibuya was as busy as it always is, with a sprinkle of Christmas mania as tourists and locals alike were loitering the crossroad, taking pictures and rushing with handfuls of gifts. Finding one disappearing biy among all these people was going to be near impossible, especially the time it took to bundle up in jackets and rush to the station.
But despite the need to look, Akira had to take a moment to breathe.
He once saw the manifestation of his soul on a sunny Shibuya day, it was only fitting to see the ghost of his heart on a winter night.
Against all odds, like it’s always been between them, he wasn't surprised to see Fate dangling a phantom in front of his eyes, so close, yet so far.
It lasted a second that could have been a decade.
When the rush of traffic ceased, Akira wasn’t surprised to find him gone.
What came after was a rushed plan. The thieves scattered and searched in different directions; the police station, the TV studio, even the stadium no one likes looking at. Akira saved Jazz Jin to himself, but no luck.
Futaba couldn’t track him any more. It was as if he had disappeared with the snow.
It was almost midnight and the weather had picked for the worst, so with a heavy heart Akira sent them all home, promising to keep in contact once they all returned safely to their abodes.
“Hey, why are the lights on?” Morgana questioned on his shoulder as they approached Leblanc. They had seen Futaba home and promised Boss to be there early the next day to help him prepare dinner.
“Maybe we forgot to turn them off”
Akira was only mindful to lock the shop in his haste to go out. He didn't think much of it, and if the bills came back expensive, he would trade a favour and ask Futaba to change the numbers.
There was a couple near the laundromat, busy talking in hushed voices to notice his fumbling with the lock.
Warm air greeted him when he opened the door, and he paused.
Because there, sitting as if time had not passed, was the ghost of Christmas himself.
“Welcome back” He called with a mellow voice “You’re home awfully late”
“A-AKECHI?!” Morgana jumped from his bag and pointed a paw at him.
“Where’s your bow?” Akira shrugged his jacket casually as if his heart wasn't racing. He couldn't even feel Mona's claw when he jumped to the bar table. “Shouldn’t you be wrapped in paper and sparkles?”
“Want to unwrap me that badly, Joker?”
He bared his teeth in return, but whatever smart comeback he had died on his throat because he was still processing the fact that Akechi Goro was sitting in Leblanc.
“Well don’t just stand there, put your greedy hands to good use and make some coffee, it’s almost midnight”
“On Cinderella time?” Akira locked the door but paused again when his dead rival kept quiet “Akechi?”
“Coffee”
“As my prince commands”
With a sigh that masked a giddy breath, he fasted an apron and set on working with familiar movements. It was that experience that allowed him to keep track of the other boy, who was in a staring contest with Morgana instead.
“You smell like burnt paper and wet grass” The cat told him.
“Must be my cognitive guide”
“A dog?” Akira tutted in disappointment “How could you cheat on Mona?”
“Morgana tattled on me first”
“That was your own undoing!” Mona bristled in indignation.
Akechi ignored the jab, though his jaw tightened as he gave his plastic smile. He could see Mona gearing for a fight, so he let the coffee brew and patted his twitching ears.
“Go to Futaba”
Mona stared at him unimpressed, then at both of them suspiciously, before sighing deeply.
Akechi moved with him, standing when Mona jumped down to open and lock the door behind him.
When he turned, Akira had finished placing two cups of coffee on the table with the unfinished sweets. As their party had cut early, no one stayed behind to help him clean. It was probably the last thing on their minds, Akira didn’t blame them.
He watched intently as Akechi took his time to sit in front of him. He looked good. He has always looked good, but for someone who was supposed to be dead and being forced against his will, he looked healthy. His black suit was impeccable, he even had a soft burgundy vest. There were no wounds or exhaustion on his face, no signs of struggle.
How did he even lose his kidnappers?
That is to say… if he was even captured in the first place.
As if reading his thoughts, Akechi moved his leg under the table next to his where something square and bulky brushed against his shin, small like a mini watch strapped over his bone that Akira knew was tracking his location.
“Is that your Victorian ankle or are you that happy to see me?”
There was a kick on his shin, making him buckle in pain and hit his knees on the table with his flinch. Akechi had timed his assault perfectly and raised his cup to drink while he started at the mess Akira's sloshed and spilt coffee had created.
“Ouch” He complained dryly.
“You deserve that”
Akira hummed and let his leg throb in pain while cleaning the mess. At least the cookies weren't sacrificed, he thought as he nabbed one.
“How long?”
“10 more years” Akechi stated calmly “Although it’s being reduced for my good behaviour and community service”
“What, Prince Charming working part-time?”
“At least I don’t live in a dusty attic”
“Where do you live then?”
“Guess”
“Not a condo” Akira pointed as he munched his cookie “Not a prison. Not a reformatory either”
“You’re rusty”
“That’s because my debate partner bailed on me for two years. Can you believe the audacity?”
“You should dump him”
“But he looks so hot when he babbles about dead philosophers”
“I will have you know, no one would entertain philosophy and debate their views if they were still alive. Death attributed to the importance of their studies and makes their theories infamous”
And Akira grinned like a fool, utterly smitten, still not believing he was here.
They lapsed into silence, legs entangled and coffee warming their hands.
Akechi wasn't wearing gloves, Akira didn’t dare bring out his in fear this was a one-night thing.
“Why now?”
“I was here last Christmas”
What?
“What?”
“You couldn’t see me, but I saw your moping. Against better judgment, you were waiting for a ghost of the past to haunt your stupid fake tree. I can’t stay in your present but for one day and there won’t be a ghost of the future singing songs in ugly sweaters. You should give up now”
“...Did you watch me sleep?”
“Be serious!”
“So, you can only come back on Christmas?”
Akechi shrugged.
“It’s the cognitive season when the line between dreams, wishes and reality blurs. You should be familiar with the concept, surely”
“Doesn’t explain why I couldn't see you last year” Akira set his coffee down to cross his arms petulantly “I dreamt. I wished, hard”
“I wasn’t hoping to linger”
“Were you going to lurk forever?”
“I don't know why I came here, I sort of appear”
“Sort of” Akira drawled, hearing lies.
What a Scrooge.
His heart felt lighter though, knowing now he wasn’t hallucinating that ghostly presence. Should have put him a bell.
“You’re right, it’s cruel” He said with a sigh “It’s the longest I have ever waited for a date”
“You-
“Next year. 24th. Leblanc. Don’t waste time, come straight home, okay? I’ll have coffee and cake and fried chicken and some jingles to lighten the mood”
“Kurusu”
“We can watch holiday movies and you can desecrate them until I stop you from smashing the telly”
“Akira”
“Don’t leave” He didn’t beg, but it came as close to pleading “I have so much to tell you. Akechi, your monologues don’t last minutes, I need you here for hours”
“Wish harder next time, fool” Akechi grumbled, averting his eyes and crossing his arms too “I know where to go”
“I’ll make a list”
It was a fragile thing, this thing between them. There were still so many unspoken things, they would probably need litres if not gallons of coffee to say them. Akira hadn’t asked him why yet, even when he knew the reason. He still wanted to talk about it, on their own terms with no lives on the line. He thought this impossible a year ago, now there was a seed of hope that something could grow from this.
They finished their coffees in silence, with Akira chiming in with scandalous tales of his life so far and Akechi humming in response. He didn’t offer where he went or who those men in suits were. But he stayed in Leblan until the snow had stopped. He wasn’t carrying a watch, but it was as if he could feel it, as if he could hear a clock striking twelve somewhere, out there.
They both stood up.
“Close your eyes” Akechi said quietly “Don't watch me leave”
“Maybe you won't disappear if I stay awake. See? I even have some cookies”
“Don’t confuse the Carols, idiot”
“I’m not, don’t you remember? Scrooge woke up on Christmas day with a happy heart”
“But he was miserable on Christmas Eve. You’ll survive”
“You’re cruel to my maiden heart” Akira sniffed “That’s on the Naughty list”
“Ha!” Akechi barked a laugh, sharp and painful, but real.
Akira wanted to swallow it and cradle it in his chest. But just like that wish he feared would crumble, so was this new hope. What if there was no next year? What if whatever magic had granted this visit thought it was enough they saw each other and separated them for who knows how long?
No, his Personas echoed. No, he needed to believe.
If Akechi said he would come back next year, then nothing will stop him from showing.
Besides, they still have a promise to keep.
So he closed his eyes to keep the magic, hoping the soft brush on his face wasn’t a dream.
The bells chimed, it was Christmas day, and he was alone.
Another year came and went.
They had graduated and became responsible adults. His parents had come to the ceremony, but he still lived in Leblanc. He had quit his many jobs in favour of running the coffee shop after a tearful speech from Boss.
Life was good. It wasn’t perfect, but it was good.
There was some tension on what to do with Akechi’s situation, however. While everyone was glad he was alive in some way, the fact he was serving community service with a corporation that dealt with cognitive science and that they still couldn’t track down did not settle well for some.
It was hard, they talked things over a lot of nights through all seasons as they waited for the snowflakes to fall again, but Akira was done being a pushover.
He loved his friends and understood where they were coming from, but he learnt his lesson and whatever selfish thoughts he had kept to himself. They couldn’t keep turning to him to solve all their problems and expect him to follow, just as he couldn’t keep quiet and let things play for the best. They each had their own beliefs and opinions on how to enact justice when the system failed, but they weren’t paragons of justice anymore.
Perhaps that’s when the novelty and magic of Christmas truly died, with the striking realization that they had become adults living in a conflictive society. They were graduate students, worrying less about stealing hearts and treasures and stressing more over jobs and mortgages. Akechi deserved punishment, they all agreed, but they weren’t gods to force fates onto others when the offender was a victim as well.
Akira wasn’t going to decide Akechi’s fate nor dissuade his friend's own opinions. Sae wasn't going to press charges, Shido had never babbled about his son. To the world, Akechi Goro was a ghost. To him, he had already paid the price when he lost his place in society. Because to Akechi, who valued his worth by others' usage of him as if he was a tool, it was punishment enough that no one even remembered his accomplishments; however fake, harmful or made-up they were. He was nothing, could do nothing but live in a world that had long forgotten him.
But if what they had discovered was true about this shadowy organization, then it meant Akechi was working with a professional team, that he had to rely on others and was getting mental help from that cute dog. So, Akira was good with the outcome, no matter how selfish or heartless it might appear to others.
He did regret not being part of the process, but as Morgana put it on one sleepless night, Akechi would have probably destroyed himself if Akira tried to ‘help’.
It already happened once.
And Akira was sure he wouldn’t survive another lonely Christmas.
So here he was, waiting for his ghost on Christmas Eve.
The phantom thieves had held their party early in the day, having had a sleepover the night before and exchanged their Secret Santa gifts; they had baked cookies, ate sushi this time and watched old holiday specials with the promise to meet on Christmas Day for lunch.
But tonight, on the Eve when dreams and reality made it possible to become visible, the merry bells of Leblanc chimed as it opened.
His heart was light and giddy, two cups of coffee were freshly brewed.
And under his Christmas tree, a real present awaited.
“Welcome back”
“Honey, I’m home” Akechi teased with mirth.
Akira wondered how much and for how long he had been wanting to try it himself, but that mirth on his face faded when he looked up and realized he was standing under a mistletoe.
And his pleasant smile turned into a snarl–
“You lecherous bastard!”
–that Akira greedily kissed.
The night was cold and a ghost with chained baggage came to haunt his past, present and future. And despite it being one night a year, Akira welcomed him as if he never left, let him fly him into a journey of remembering, feasted on new memories, and buried grief when the clock announced their departure. Come morning, he will sit under his Christmas tree alone, a newly gifted coffee cup in his hands, but it was fine for now.
After all, Scrooge was greedy until Christmas morning, so Akira can have this selfish kiss to himself tonight.
Jokes on him, he can’t stop being greedy for Akechi Goro.
Good thing Christmas comes every year.