Chapter Text
This is how it feels to be Akechi Goro, forever:
A micro celebrity in Tokyo, Japan with a population of around 37 million, on television most days, has a fan base of slightly feral fangirls… and yet he’s checked into a hospital as a Taro Yamada because they can’t recognize him. Out of 37 million people, no one can recognize him by the color of his hair, because the rest of him is so unrecognizable through his injuries.
The first dawn of light brings pain. So much if it, and it only goes away when it’s chased through his veins by a numb nothingness.
Everything is dark.
There’s pressure around his head, wrapped around his eyes and tied at the back of his head. He can feel it through the numbness that sits just beneath the surface of his skin.
Time is meaningless in this space.
It fluctuates wildly. It’s slow as molasses, and it’s fast as a warp drive kicking into hyperspace. He knows when he’s conscious – though not awake – and when he’s completely unconscious and dreaming.
He knows, because his dreams haunt him. Akechi’s dreams consist of Amamiya and the Thieves. Of Amamiya and his father. Of Amamiya and their personas. Always of Amamiya though.
He dreams of his rival in a funeral procession, in a casket being carried down an aisle, the top of it open. He’s surrounded by marigolds, the color making Amamiya look even paler in death. Akechi’s heart aches as he watches from a distance, gun in his hand; the killing weapon.
He dreams of his last moments in the metaverse, right before this nothingness he’s cursed with now.
Shot in several places, pain blossoming through his body, Akechi can’t help but miss the life he never had. It makes him cringe at himself for being sentimental, but now, at his death, who’s there to witness it? No one, so perhaps he could drop the last dregs of pretending and let loose.
If only he’d met his rival sooner, perhaps he would never have become the monster he perceives himself to be now. If Akechi had been granted a wish in Maruki’s reality, it would have been just that: to experience life knowing Amamiya.
Warm tears track down his face at the thought of this missed life. He knows death is better than being under Maruki’s thumb, but he still mourns. He knows a life in Maruki’s reality would be akin to a lobotomy. The reality would have to be forced upon him to tame him, and he shudders to imagine what that would be like.
The familiar pull of Metaverse magic tugs at his edges, but Akechi doesn’t waste the energy to look.
You wish to return to the world?
Ah, now even his personas mock him. He should expect nothing less in death. Loki peers over him, creeping into his vision. His ever-smirking face drips red onto him.
You desire for it so strongly that even Death does not wish to take you.
Akechi almost laughs, because now he’s unwanted by the one thing that waits for everyone. Fucking figures.
Another pull of Metaverse magic on his other side, and he can only guess Robin Hood has materialized to watch his end as well. His personas are as cruel as he is.
Tell us. Do you want to make a deal?
A deal? He almost scoffs. What could he do now to hold up the end of a deal?
The deal is thus: we will save you, if you can do one thing you’ve never been able to get right. Live.
What a stupid, inane, banal thing to offer. A deal has benefits on both sides, but this one only seems to benefit him. He would get to live, and he would no longer have Loki and Robin whispering in his head, judging him with their own peculiar form of justice?
It’s with that thought that realization dawns on Akechi. They will give him this second—third chance at life, but it will be on their terms. Their brand of justice, marked upon him.
Storm grey eyes flash in his mind, unhindered by glasses. Raven locks of hair across his forehead, his lean body ever untouchable to Akechi.
It sounds like misery to try and figure out how to live, but… through a throat clogged with blood, he speaks,
“I accept the deal.”
Blinded by your single-sighted justice, you shall be unable to see. But in this sacrifice, my power will fuse with your other self, and together, as one, we will save your life.
A big, searing hand wraps around his head, over his eyes. White blinds him, forcing him to think of Robin Hood’s white gloves, and Akechi’s body arches off the floor, his brain registering nothing but agony—
There was a floor, right? He’s still on the metal floor of the ship, klaxon’s blaring as it goes down, saltwater rushing through the cracks to drown him—
Or had he been moved? In some unknown location in the Metaverse, for the blaring alarms were far too distant to be here—
For the life you crafted to fool the masses, for the lives you took without remorse, to save you from this fate, I fuse myself with you. You will carry me everywhere you go, permanently etched onto your flesh.
We art thou— thou art us.
And everything burns. In lashes like a whip across his skin; lines tattooed onto him for an eternity. It burns and burns and burns, and Akechi thinks perhaps he is really dying, and this was all a trick played upon him by his own tattered mind.
Everything dies, after all. Even stars burn out.
This is how it feels to be Amamiya Ren:
Grief and hope bundled into one person. The two emotions are constantly at war with each other.
The grief of a month when the one person who knew him – really knew him – was gone. Sacrificed himself for him. Under pretenses for them, the Thieves, but he knows it wouldn’t have gone down the same if he hadn’t been there.
The hope of seeing that same boy on Christmas Eve like a present with a bow tied around him. Two months of hope that he’s here to stay, only for it to be ripped from his hands again. Only to be forced to say goodbye again to respect his wishes.
The boy’s life used as a playing piece of gods and men with god-complexes, over and over. Ren understands his desire to make it all stop, even if it hurts.
The grief returns, and this time it does not have an end in sight. He thought a month was long to grieve, but then he had other things to distract him. Revenge against Shido (for himself, but ultimately, his own revenge was shadowed by Akechi’s), Mementos, helping his friends tie up loose ends.
He went to juvenile detention, but even that couldn’t distract him. It was mostly spent in solitude, where he could obsess over all his choices.
When he’s released, he’s a bit thinner and the circles under his eyes are darker.
Ren gets a lot worse before he gets better.
Depression hits, followed by nightmares and anger. Ren’s always been angry at the world, but now, he’s angry at himself as well. He had powers, and he still couldn’t save Akechi? He had literal, magic powers, and he still ends up alone. Some days he wishes he were more like Maruki and could take what he wanted instead of thinking about everyone else.
His nightmares have him waking up with migraines, reminiscent of a bullet in the head. He never experienced that, but maybe his cognition in the Metaverse left him a souvenir out of spite. “You couldn’t save Akechi, here are infinite headaches.” Not how it works, but Ren still daydreams about himself punishing himself.
He’s still in the Phantom Thieves group chat, though he no longer participates. He’s still invited to every event they have, but he doesn’t go. Morgana goes in his stead, and perhaps that is the only reason they haven’t forced their way into his attic space to confront his grief in person.
Ren appreciates that they don’t give up on him, even if he can’t express his appreciation just yet. It’s nice to know that even if all he does is curl up in bed and stare at past text conversations with Akechi, that his friends haven’t decided he’s a lost cause.
Morgana loafs up on his chest often lately. Ren would bet anything that Futaba and Ann convinced him that the vibration of cat purrs would heal him. It’s sweet, even though his pain was a broken heart and not something physical. Could someone die of that? He didn’t know, but it certainly felt like it.
His friends are trying, and he is too, kind of (he’s here and that’s enough for how hollow Ren feels). Their lives are moving on, and still, they try to make sure Ren is always in the loop.
Ryuji is going to seriously pursue his track career, and Sumire is going off to training camp. Ann is going to study abroad, Makoto and Haru are moving in together to go to University. Yusuke is always around for Ren, and even though Futaba is going to high school, she’ll be around too.
But Ren’s going home too, and when he’s there, who will he have?
It’s daunting to think of his hometown where his parents don’t care about him, and his friends have moved on. He thinks being sent back to juvie would be better than going home.
He rots, he mourns, and he misses. Ren lives vicariously through Morgana’s stories of their friends and their text messages. He does this all the way up until the day before he’s to leave, until his phone vibrates on his bed with an individual message rather than a group message.
[13:25] Oracle: I found something.
[13:25] Oracle: I’m sending you hospital records of one Detective Prince.
Ren nearly fumbles his phone as he goes to grab it, almost dropping it off the side of the bed in his haste. He opens the link Futaba sends immediately and his jaw drops open.
Akechi Goro is alive.
This is Sakura Futaba:
A girl who experienced loss so profoundly that she will carry the invisible scars with her for the rest of her life. She never thought she’d live long enough to have friends, a new family, or a second chance in life. She thought her life ended when her mom died, and in a way, it had. It was only with Ren forcing his way (literally) into her life that she was given this chance, a rebirth from her old life to a new one. She would do anything for him, as was a common theme among all the Phantom Thieves.
Futaba is woefully ill equipped for this mission. She’s going to do it though, even if it kills her. (It might.)
She’s the one that found the news; she’s the one that’s closest to family to Ren. Or, she’d like to think that since Sojiro unofficially adopted Ren. So, she’s the one to accompany Ren to the hospital.
Ren is an anxious mess the entire way to the train station. She keeps eyeing him from her peripherals. He picks at the black polish on his nails (something he did to stop chewing on his nails, but somehow, he found something new to advertise his nerves). They board the train in relative silence as Futaba uses all her energy to focus on breathing deeply and nothing having a panic attack while surrounded by so many people.
Aren’t they a pair of well-adjusted people?
“Hey,” Futaba elbows Ren’s side as they sit next to each other on the train. This time of day, the train is slightly less packed than normal. Morgana echoes with a disgruntled, “hey!” from the bag between them, annoyed that he was jostled. “How’s it feel to be out?”
Ren makes a funny face at her, but he’s still selfless Ren so he answers, “I’ve been out of the house lately. School and work.”
“Well yeah,” Futaba gives him a playful eyeroll. “But I mean, how’s it feel to be out and doing something you want to do, rather than something you’re forced to do? You know, out of everyone in our group, I get it. I really do. You can talk to me about it if you want.”
“Hm,” Ren makes a considering face. He leans back against the hard plastic of his seat. “I don’t know how to talk about it. It feels like… I’m not really here? Like I don’t exist?”
“That’s still loads better than where I was at,” Futaba’s obviously trying to stay lighthearted, even when she see’s the spark in Ren’s eyes as he realizes that it’s kind of true. He’s never gotten to the suicidal ideation part of his grief (that she’s aware of, and Morgana tells her everything), though she thinks he has Morgana and the Phantom Thieves to thank for keeping him afloat.
“Are you nervous?” Futaba asks, trying to distract him and herself, if she’s being honest. He’s obviously anxious, but nervous and anxious aren’t always synonyms.
“Of Akechi? No, never.” Ren’s bond with Akechi has never made sense to her, but she supposes there are stranger things in life (such as Palaces, and talking cats, and Inari, and ace Detective Princes).
“He won’t be awake anyway,” Futaba mutters, but she sees the way Ren flinches at her words. She can feel the glare Morgana shoots her way.
Yeah, alright, she fumbled that. She can try again though.
“I know you didn’t read the chart beyond making sure he as alive, but did you notice the timeline?” Futaba is ready to babble to move on from her inconsiderate words that Ren is too kind to call her out on. “When Maruki’s reality disappeared… when you went to juvie, Akechi is noted to be found in November, after Shido’s ship. He’s been in a coma since then, so maybe Maruki didn’t even need to bring him back from the dead. Maybe he just… woke him up for a while.”
“Akechi…” Morgana’s sad meow comes from the bag between them.
“It’s not right,” Ren mutters through clenched teeth. His hands curl into fists on his lap.
“No, it’s not,” Futaba agrees. Even with everything Akechi has done, it isn’t right to toy with someone like that.
It’s uneventful after that and Futaba has a sense of dread, like she didn’t exactly nail this social interaction. But Ren’s never held it against her, and she’s too awkward to try again. Things around Akechi have never been normal to talk about, and trying to be supportive over it only makes Akechi Topics even more difficult.
The train arrives at the station, they make their way to the hospital, and before they know it, they’re standing in front of Akechi’s closed door.
“What did you tell your parents?” Futaba asks when Ren looks like he’s frozen in place outside Akechi’s door.
“Nothing really,” Ren answers, his voice strained. “Just that I decided to stay in Tokyo, and Sojiro is fine with it.”
“Huh, really as simple as that?” Futaba voices her thoughts out loud. Ren lets out a strangled chuckle, but her tactic (was it really a tactic or a way to fill the silence?) worked. Ren steels himself and reaches for the door handle.
She’s there for moral support, but she won’t go in with Ren. She certainly isn’t ready for an Akechi Goro revival just yet.
“I’ll be just outside the door,” Futaba tells Ren, but she’s positive he isn’t listening. She’s holding Morgana’s catbag.
He pushes the door open with shaking hands, but she isn’t fast enough to turn away before she sees just a sliver of him inside.
At least, she’s assuming it’s him. She saw the shape of a body and bandages. A lot of bandages.