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Not long into their acquaintanceship - no, rivalry as they'd say, Akechi made it a habit of completing schoolwork at Leblanc as often as his limited schedule would allow. He insists it's the atmosphere, not the company, that has him returning at least once a week.
Even he knows his lie is pathetic.
At least in his mind he can reassure himself that even if he is here to see Akira, it's for investigative purposes.
He raises his cup of coffee to his lips and ignores the string dangling down to his wrist from his pinky, going right through the glove he's wearing (the how one of the world's biggest mysteries).
"Mine was cut," Akira tells him.
"Oh?" his grip on his pencil tightens and the word he's writing remains unfinished.
Of the entire world's population, about 80 percent have a red string of fate tied around their pinkies meant to connect them to their supposed soulmate - what that constitutes exactly is up to the two parties involved to decide. About 60 percent of those people have a string connected on both ends. Much like his own, Akira's hangs loose. There are only two ways to sever them; death, leaving the string black and limp, or choice.
"Mhm. March 13th, 2009 at 8:47pm."
People who cut their strings, or who have had their strings cut, always remember the date and time it happened. There's no physical pain associated to it, only the realization that they will never find their god-given soulmate, and the impact of that grief can be intense for some.
Stupid, really, how people put so much stock into something that can be ruined with a simple pair of scissors. Sharp or rusted, sewing or fabric or even children's scissors; all that matters is the intent and action and snip. The string drops in two and the red darkens but doesn't fade to black as it does in death.
Akechi would know, as he cut his own string on March 13th, 2009 at 8:46pm. He doesn't correct Akira on being off by a minute, though he's tempted to do so just to be right.
There's the barest half-second of surprise at hearing that memorized date spoken aloud by someone other than himself, to know that that one day has such significance to another person too, but none of that surprise is due to the revelation because it's not a revelation.
Of course it's Akira. It had to be Akira.
"I see. I'm sorry for your loss." A token unsympathetic expression of remorse - that's the expected response to someone revealing their string was cut, like someone admitting they lost a loved one.
"I was young enough not to feel too strongly about it... What about you, Detective?"
The entire reason Akira brought this up, Akechi surmises. Because Akira will never offer anything of himself unless it's to circle back to his companion.
"There's no need to pretend you haven't read up on me, Kurusu-kun. I've already disclosed all that information to some interviewer or other quite some time ago. It's no mystery."
"Right."
My string? Yes, my soulmate severed it a few years ago... Yes, it's truly disappointing but I suppose it's fate's way of saying I should focus on my studies and career!
He always laughs it off and carefully changes the topic to something not involving his lack of soulmate (and love life).
"I've read what you've said about it, but I don't believe you."
Akechi startles. Akira's smile is teasing, but the intensity in his gaze suggests genuine interest. And Akechi can't deny him.
"You think I cut my string?" he offers in lieu of an answer.
"I do. I know some people in dangerous jobs do it to protect their soulmate, you see it all the time in crime dramas, and as a detective in the spotlight I can see you wanting to protect yourself that way. Oh, or you're actually a secret romantic and don't believe in this soulmate stuff - you want someone to love you for you, no strings attached." Akira wiggles his limp string for emphasis, but the grin on his face gets his attempt at a joke across without the physical aide.
Maybe he should have kept their string intact so he could choke him out with it.
He's so... stupid.
"I believe that's called projection, Kurusu-kun."
Akira knows he got under his skin and his grin doesn't fade even with Akechi ignoring it entirely.
"You're definitely the chopping type. I can sense it."
"While your hypothesis on my motive is as incorrect as it could possibly be, you're right. I did cut my string."
Sojiro has already left for the evening and there are no other customers to overhear, in this privacy he's willing to share what he's never spoken to another living soul; as is the norm for him and Akira, it seems.
Akira reigns in his visible excitement and asks with barely concealed eagerness, "why did you do it?"
"I wish my motive was as noble as protecting loved ones, or even as plebeian as believing in 'true love', but I'm not so pure hearted as all that. My mother met her soulmate. He humoured her long enough to leave her pregnant then cast her out of his life without looking back. He deemed her unworthy." He mentally takes stock of his own expression to ease out the disgust. "He cut their string and left her with nothing but a bastard child. I made the decision to pre-emptively eliminate that potential pain for myself. That's all."
"I'm sorry," Akira says softly.
A hand tentatively approaches and retreats before it can make contact. Akechi can't decide if he'd have allowed the physical comfort or not. Doesn't matter since Akira couldn't follow through.
"But it worked out. After all, you had a point. People in my line of work often cut their strings for safety's sake. It's likely I would have done it anyway."
"Do you have any interest in finding your soulmate? Just because the string is cut doesn't mean feelings can't happen."
"When would I possibly have the time to humour a relationship?"
"It doesn't have to be now, just... eventually. There's these forums online where people post their date and time trying to find each other. I bet you'd find yours pretty quick."
Are there enough people out there who regret cutting their string to warrant these search options? Not everyone is as resolute as Akechi, apparently.
"You accused me of being a romantic, but I assume you've posted on every forum possible."
Akira's grin turns guilty, "Maybe? Maybe I am a romantic, but I think I'm just curious. I mean... how could you not be? You're born tied, literally, to this other person that some mystical being deemed a perfect fit for you. Aren't you the least bit curious to know what they're like? I know I am."
"Not really," Akechi says with a shrug.
Even before Akira. He's wondered, it'd be impossible not to, but he holds no importance in it. It did no good for his mother, and now having confirmation of his own suspicions, he knows it's no good for him either.
Destiny says he'll one day kill Akira; so much for soulmates, right?
Robin Hood's silence is as damning as Loki's raucous laughter.
oOoOo
Is going to Mementos just the two of them a smart decision?
No. Not for either of them, and yet it keeps happening.
Akechi's been coming here alone for years. It's been months since anything in here's put up a fight against him. Having to ensure Akira doesn't die until his due time should be simple, if Akira would stop forgetting he doesn't have a whole battalion of teammates at his disposal and Akechi could use his full power. It takes effort to seem weaker and less informed than he is, and it takes even more effort to reign in his ego.
He can act charming and airy and ditzy when needed, but pretending he's ignorant is excruciating.
Only a couple of days after dragging Akira to Mementos to fight him and tossing both his glove and a statement of hatred at him, his terrible attempt at beating his own wayward thoughts into submission, Akira asks him to join him for a couple of easy missions. Something about Akechi getting more experience, something about them being a good team, something about letting his friends relax in between trips to Sae's palace...
Terrible and transparent excuses; Akira wants to spend time together and has some things to do in Mementos. Why not combine the two?
If Akira had any idea what Akechi has planned for him in a few days, these invitations would be utterly suicidal and brainless.
"Noir, use-" Akira cuts himself short and huffs before dodging to the side. Haru's been in his lineup lately, he's used to having her psy skills readily available which would make quick work of this Arahabaki.
He doesn't have anything with the right weakness, he and Akechi will have to make due with hitting it with what they have until it goes down.
"You're far too reliant on your teammates, Joker. Have you ever had to fight alone?"
"Not everything needs to be done alone."
"I'll take that as a no."
With bless, curse, and his weapons utterly useless against this thing, he tosses a megidola in its direction. The impact is extra forceful - his skills are always boosted when he has rage simmering beneath his skin. Of course Joker's never had to make this journey on his own; he started with a guide and a friend. He didn't have to take hit after hit after fucking hit to learn what the hell was happening, he didn't wander blindly in a hellish maze with no one to watch his back, he didn't - stop.
Robin Hood gently scolds him to draw his seething thoughts to a halt.
It's not quick enough to get his reflexes kicked into gear in time to dodge the incoming strike.
A darkness grips his chest in its hand and his next breath comes out a gasp. Wrongness seizes him. He has a moment long enough to know an ailment is washing over him, but not enough time to do something against it.
He's been struck by these often enough. He can handle it.
... Can he? No... no he can't.
Akechi can't handle anything; his life is a series of messes of his own creation, one after another after another. There's no getting out of this. He'll be stuck here in Mementos forever. He's going to watch his soulmate be torn apart by shadows and be helpless to stop them. They're stuck.
He's stuck. He can't move. He can't fix this. He can't escape.
What's the point? Why try? What was the purpose of this decade old plan to avenge his mother? What's the point? Who cares? Who cares? No one has ever cared about Goro Akechi.
He'll never get out of Mementos. He'll never be free of Shido and his conspiracy. Akechi is a pawn, a peon, nothing to a man who barely bothers to remember his name and who ruined his life by creating him in the first place. If he leaves here, if Akira gets them out of this because it's not like Akechi can do anything, he goes back to nothing. He has nothing.
He is nothing.
He is worse than nothing; he's a monster.
Why leave Mementos at all?
This is where he belongs, the shadow of a former human being surrounded by its peers.
Akira's face hovers in his vision, but the world's a blurry mess.
"It's gone, I've got you. Give me a second..." Akira's mutterings barely reach his ears.
"Did I hurt you?" Akechi mumbles.
"You got hit with despair, not brainwash. Let's see, I have an item here somewhere... Damn I should have stopped to pick up some persona before we came in here..."
"Did you cry when I cut it? Did you grieve? My mother cried until she had nothing left to give. She cried herself to death because of what he did to her. Did I hurt you like he hurt her? Am I... I'm worse than he is, aren't I? How did I become the monster in the story? How did I become what killed her? I'm sorry, I'm so sorry... Please forgive me."
Something presses into his palm and dissolves into his skin. The fog in his mind vanishes as quickly as it had appeared.
His heart is released from the vice grip of darkness. Despair.
He breathes easily, his emotions falling into their careful places shelved aside.
"There you are," Akira's smile is hesitant, almost awkward. "Let's keep going. We're almost out of here."
They were done with the requests and had almost made it to the exit without any hiccups. That's the kind of luck Akechi's always carried with him.
He scrutinizes Akira's expression. He remembers what he's just said and Akira is sometimes an idiot but he's not stupid. He's figured it out - he must have. But he says nothing and there's no accusation in his eyes.
"Right." He wipes dust off his pants and stands, at some point having fallen to his knees, and schools his features into that false cheery aloofness worn by his detective persona. An easy mask to fall back into, despite how uncomfortable it sits on his face. "My apologies, that was quite unseemly of me. Thank you for your assistance."
"No worries. Come on."
Joker turns to go, just like that. No comments or questions. Did he... not piece it together? Or is not addressing it some sort of ploy, a means to get in his head? Is Akira expecting him to bring it up first? A move's been made on this chessboard of words and actions that sits between them, separating them just enough to never get close enough, but Akechi notes every pawn and finds everything where it's meant to be.
He hates when Akira makes a move that makes no sense. It usually leads to him trying a play that, game-wise, actually doesn't make any sense and ultimately results in Akechi's triumphant victory, but that moment of trying to deduce his strategy always keeps him anxiously on his toes and hovering on the edges of failure.
This boy's brain is a nightmare to understand.
Akechi settles on silence.
He's slightly unsteady still. He hadn't realized until he had teammates to cure him of the ailments that they were only so brutal for him because he had to wait for them to pass on their own, and in this particular battle it took a while before Akira was able to do so.
He keeps a couple of steps behind him up to the exit. When Akira turns to face him, he forces his lips into a smile.
"Ah, and here we are. Again, thank you for your help back there. It's a nice feeling being able to help all these people, I can see why you all do this so often. Of course that doesn't change my mind about our deal. Well, I bid you goodnight. Have a safe trip home."
He waves and turns to walk off, leaving his companion no room to speak. An expertly manipulated conversation, like always. He feels proud for all of three seconds.
A tug on his string brings him to a dead stop.
Akira's the only person in the world capable of physically touching it, other than Akechi himself. People don't reach to touch something unless they expect to feel it; he knows.
"I did cry," Akira says softly.
Akechi doesn't turn around, the only connection between them the string tied to his pinky and held in Akira's grip.
"I was nine, so I didn't really get it, but I knew that I'd lost something important. I've cried a few times wondering what I lost, who I lost. Why they didn't want me. I suspected, you know? When we met. You did too, I know you did. That's why I brought it up that one time; your poker face is good, but I still knew. I understand why you cut it. It wasn't because you thought I was unworthy, it's because you thought you were unworthy. But you are. You're worth everything to me, Akechi, I-"
Once Akira starts he doesn't stop.
Akechi can't take it.
"Shut up." He tugs his arm up to his chest more forcefully than necessary to pull the string out of his gentle grasp. "It doesn't matter what you think. I hate you - remember?"
Akira's breathing is heavy behind him.
"... Right." A hoarse whisper reaches his ears and that's answer enough.
"Goodnight, Joker."
He leaves and doesn't turn back to see what face Akira's making. He can't risk him digging further into his heart and making him stay to have this conversation.
There's nothing to say. Akechi has a mission and Akira's in the way.
Simple as that.
OoOoO
Everything goes according to plan.
The delivery of Sae's calling card, capturing Joker, finding him in the interrogation room...
He was ten years old when he cut his string. His mother had died only a few weeks prior and the grief had been debilitating and saving himself from the suffering she'd endured had seemed like the most brilliant solution. He's never once regretted it in all these years.
Here, smoking gun in hand and their final confrontation resulting in his triumph, he still feels no regret.
A monster has no need for a soulmate, and there's some poetic justice to being the one to end his life. If only his mother had had the same courage, she might be alive.
He tucks the gun in Akira's hand. His fingers hover over the string hanging loosely down by his side; it's still the same shade of red as dried blood, rather than the vibrant red of a living string or the midnight black of death. That's normal - a cut string won't be impacted by death.
Even now they remain connected, despite the disconnection.
Akechi draws his hand away before he can make contact and turns to the door. He leaves and doesn't look back.
OoOoO
'Final' is not so final after all.
They fight in Shido's palace and Akechi unleashes his full power and still meets defeat.
A door separates him and Akira and after the betrayal, after his words filled with vitriol, his soulmate still bangs on the door and offers him a promise. Stupid boy.
He takes his last shot against his father's image of him, earning himself one in return. The world goes dark.
This time he knows - this is right, this is how it should be.
OoOoO
Yet it still isn't over.
Maruki Takuto is no god; their string remains cut in two.
If he'd truly been given a second chance at life, wouldn't it be in one piece? Wouldn't a god fix what Akechi had broken? Or is he unworthy of redemption? His life is a pawn in a game this lunatic insists they play for their freedom.
That's fine. It's fine. Being a pawn is familiar; he's never been anything else.
His freedom lies in death. Like mother, like son.
He watches hesitation creep into Akira with every word he and Maruki speak to him, confirming that truth. His stance is stiff, his eyes wide and vulnerable, his breath uneven. Maruki leaves. Morgana follows.
Akechi turns his anger on his companion. He droops under his scrutiny.
Akira fiddles with his broken string like so many people do. It's an obvious tell of nervousness, something any good detective knows to look for. It pisses Akechi off to see it here and now.
"It's just a string, Akira. It only means what you think it does, and to me it means nothing."
"But it means something to me," Akira softly refutes.
Akechi's glare intensifies and his other half doesn't back down from it, but his next words are what they should be.
"I'll fight Maruki," he agrees, "but I need you to promise me something."
Akechi's eyes narrow and it's his turn for hesitancy, "... what kind of promise?"
"I hope you're both wrong. I want you to be alive, Akechi."
"For reasons beyond my understanding."
"Promise you won't run away. If you're alive, come find me. Let me know. Even if you want to leave, let me know first. Don't... don't make me wonder."
"That's it?"
"That's it," he confirms.
"Fine. If, somehow, I'm alive when this reality crumbles I will notify you of my persisted existance."
"Thank you."
"Good. I'm sick of being controlled. Let's go home, to our reality. We'll win this. Together."
Akira's expression lights with that familiar spark of rebellion. Akechi hides his grin by turning away from him towards the door.
"Wait." His hand is grabbed, his string trapped between their palms. "You can stay. If you want."
Akechi glances at him over his shoulder, one eyebrow raised, "Is that another condition?"
"No. I want you to want to stay."
He turns back fully, and he makes no effort to part their hands.
"You continue to surprise me, Akira."
"That makes two of us."
Something Akechi can't place is taking space between them. Living electricity burrowing into in his cells, travelling through his veins, rebuilding a string long ago halved.
Akira takes a tentative step forward, a wordless declaration of intent. Akechi doesn't so much as twitch, and Akira understands.
He's a dead man walking. There's no shame or weakness in indulgence. Akira presses him up against Leblanc's door and devours him whole without ever biting into him. A kiss leaves him breathless. He'd known Akira would have this effect on him; it's never just a string, is it? No matter how much he's tried to convince himself otherwise.
Tomorrow this won't matter.
Tonight he can give into his heart; just this once.
OoOoO
Reality returns to its intended state.
Akira gives a brief glance around the room and knows where he is - a private cell in some detention center. Akechi didn't take his place on Christmas Eve and Akira must have confessed to everything. That means...
His eyes prickle with tears and his chest aches with sorrow, as it had after escaping the interrogation room and after that battle on Shido's ship, and all while fighting Maruki and knowing what came next.
He lifts his left hand and stares at his pinky and the string tied around it.
And stares. And stares.
It's bright red.
It no longer ends after a couple of inches; it goes on and on, right through the door.
Their string's been reconnected.
That's impossible.
He and Akechi have always defied what is and isn't possible. As soon as he's out of here, he's going to do what every hopeful soulmate does; he's going to follow this string to his other half.
He knows, without a doubt, that Akechi will meet him in the middle.