Chapter Text
Robin Hood vanishes, dissipating and reforming into Akechi’s mask. It hadn’t been the most impressive display; the enemies before them were weaker than he’d initially surmised. Niijima must have been taunting them. Still, he was met with sounds of approval from behind him. His work successfully wowed at least a few of the thieves. Their leader, on the other hand...
Joker approaches and Akechi turns to him. He’s looking past Akechi as if he expects the shadows to revive for another attack. When he’s found no other threats, he finally acknowledges Akechi's presence. The look in his eyes is complex with layers upon layers of obfuscation past the simple black and white mask. Akechi is no mind-reader, but the first thing he can conclude from the look is doubt. Perhaps it's petty to feel a tinge embittered that not a hint of awe showed on Joker’s face. He collects himself.
"Was my performance not up to your standards?"
Joker straightens, places his hands back into his pockets. His expression is schooled and stoic, the question had shifted some of the mysterious layers his plain and honest thoughts were hidden behind.
"That's not it."
Akechi tilts his head– almost too performatively– and attempts to solve the mystery again. Joker doesn't give him enough time to come to another conclusion.
"It was helpful."
Helpful. Not useful?
"I'm glad I could be of assistance after all, then."
Joker seems on the tail-end of another thought.
"I know where I can put you, now."
Ah. He preferred control. That was fine, Akechi could obey commands so long as it allowed him an unfettered path to his goals. That being said, he couldn't think of a reason to mind being given commands otherwise. Joker had apparently proven his prowess as the leader of the Phantom Thieves. While Akechi had yet to see it first hand, up close, the others were unhesitant in trusting his skill. This would make for a worthwhile experience. Knowing how they worked from the inside made it that much easier to pick them apart.
"Well, I certainly hope I can become a valuable asset to the team."
Akechi smiles the way he's used to for television, for audiences willing to cling to his every word, brightly enough that it can be seen through the gaps in his mask. Joker nods. His own mask does little to hide his identity, but the rest of his façade does a good enough job of maintaining the mystery around him. Unaffected and focused, he's already moved past Akechi's performance– in and out of battle– and shifts instead to the obstacle in front of them. The elevator. That was fine. Akechi had a solution for this, too.
--
He was impressed.
For as ragtag of a group as the Phantoms were, they worked together in battle like a well-oiled machine. Or, at the very least, some well trained lackeys with a dependable leader. Akechi was almost disappointed that Joker was never pressed to give it his all. Openings were filled by the commands he gave to the others, enemies weakened enough to allow him a few, concise strikes to finish things out. They were a crutch, if anything. How would Joker perform on his own?
But, he had his own array of abilities, too. Summoning personas came simply to him, moment-to-moment decisions with barely any hesitation, easy consideration of what he needed when he’d found his opening. Joker was an impressive strategist. A reliable ally. Perhaps even a worrisome rival.
Akechi would succeed. Just like he had until now.
An agreement was made among them to exfiltrate. The treasure was close; two more infiltrations at most and everything would be in place. Admittedly, Akechi felt more exhausted now than any other time he’d entered the Metaverse, comparable only to the first few times he’d seen the reality of it. If nothing else, the Phantom Thieves worked hard. It would almost be a shame when they were destroyed. Almost.
“Akechi.”
He turned. Joker– no, he was just Ren Amamiya, now, plain and unassuming in his school uniform with his eyes somehow more hidden by a simple pair of glasses than a mask– had approached Akechi. He turned back to Morgana, first, nodding towards the rest of the group in a sign for him to follow them. The cat did just so, leaping to the ground and turning back only briefly before giving Ren and Akechi space to speak. Akechi adjusted his gloves, having learned already that T.V.-ready smiles were a wasted effort, and instead offered something more personable.
“Going to assess my performance?”
Ren shrugged. Would the world be titillated or disappointed that the leader of the Phantom Thieves of Hearts was so blasé?
“You did well. I’m glad to have someone to fill the gaps we had before.”
“That’s a relief.”
“I want you on the front lines like that until we reach the treasure.”
Akechi laughed, politely. But he was pleased. Satisfied. Trust was what he needed.
“That’s quite the honor. My very first stint with the Phantoms and I’m already considered a decorated fighter.”
Ren adjusts his posture. Akechi would have to pick up on other ways to read him.
“Unless I’m more of a pawn, in this case?” He maintained that same polite, controlled smile. “Remaining at the front to serve as fodder whilst your strongest pieces reserve their energy?”
Ren tilts his head forward, just enough that a glimpse of gunmetal gray is visible beneath his lenses. If he had been anyone else, Akechi would have assumed the display was meant to be a threat.
“Does it seem that way..?”
Something like an impasse was approaching. It was only an off-hand comment, one that could easily be retracted and forgotten. Whatever use he was to the Phantom Thieves for now, it served him just fine. Before Akechi can assure that he’d only been joking, pretend his current position was something worth coveting, the cat called out to them.
“Oi!”
They both turn at the sound of him, Akechi a moment after Ren. He’s being held up by the scruff courtesy of the team’s resident brute. Skull– Ryuji, here. He finishes Morgana’s thought for him.
“The trains are gonna stop runnin’ soon, man. Let’s hurry up and get back.”
Ren nods. Akechi knew the warning wasn't for his sake.
Ryuji keeps struggling with the cat as the two turn, catching up with the others. Ren takes a few steps towards them and stops, looking back to Akechi, with something in his expression changing again.
“Are you coming?”
It would take Akechi a little longer to understand that careless consideration of others.
“I’ll be fine. You shouldn't keep your friends waiting.”
“Alright… I’ll contact you later.”
He hurries on ahead, and the group is whole again.
Akechi couldn’t imagine being so coddled. It was more than enough that the public he kept a professional distance away from himself could pretend they knew him, pretend that they wanted him. To be surrounded by peers so concerned with him would be nothing short of unbearable.
He checked his watch. There was enough time to call for a ride and get some paperwork done before the night ended.
--
The plan wasn't to return to Sae’s palace immediately. There were other distractions; multiple requests made in search of the Phantom Thieves’ aid that the group were too softhearted to ignore, even in the midst of their final mission. Akechi supposes he could understand the decision. They had plenty of time, and likely wanted to spend that time together. It made for good training besides, and an even better chance for Akechi to see how their team functioned.
Mementos was far from welcoming, but Akechi appreciated how apt it was. The deep and twisting underbelly of society, rife with violence and want; it was nothing if not honest. There was a satisfaction in seeing the true faces of their marks, who walked about above ground all too comfortably, masks slipping just enough that their desires had leeway to control them. Akechi could be a hero here.
He stood back and watched as Joker shared a few more meaningless words with their latest target. They promised to change, their shadow vanished, the world was better by one person among billions. Joker pocketed the treasure left behind.
“Impressive work.”
Joker half-turned to Akechi. He nodded in response to the praise, still appearing collected after three targets and tens of floors filled with shadows. Part of Akechi wanted to see him rattled.
“There should just be one more before we’re done here. Shall we proceed? Or perhaps we should regroup?”
As though he could divine an answer from it, Joker looked to the entrance of the area the shadow had been sequestered in. The swirl of light and dark was as silent as always, outside of the quiet, beckoning voices.
“Let’s keep going.”
His decision was, of course, met with no resistance.
Battles faded into one another as they descended. Akechi felt the unique sensation of his energy growing weaker while his persona grew yet stronger. He wasn’t at enough of a disadvantage to hinder their progress, but it seemed that a few of the others were, sitting heavily in their seats when fights came to a close and the depths only became darker. He eyed Joker, wondering if their leader was aware enough to see the same. He’d been skilled so far in doling out both orders and items, prepared to a surprising extent, and yet…
…
Akechi refused to die here.
He repeated that, like a mantra, while the energy was sapped from his body. The swirling red and black of Mementos lapped at the corners of his vision. He’d been floored now more times than he cared to admit, so many that he realized his pride was hardly worth considering in the face of the real and present danger they were all in. The danger Joker allowed them to walk into.
The beast in front of them had an ominous yet familiar aura about it. Pure killing intent. Malice that blotted out all reason. It incited a sort of excitement in Akechi, before it was overwhelmed by the reality he was facing: he could die. This monster could kill all of them easily.
This wasn’t supposed to happen. He wasn’t supposed to be backed into a corner this soon. Robin Hood wouldn’t be enough here. He would have to risk everything if it came down to his own survival. How could he have been so thoughtless? How could he have let himself be led to this?
“Joker!”
The name comes from his mouth with more venom than he intended. Loki calls out to him from the back of his mind, rioting behind his eyelids.
“We won’t make it like this, we need to find an opening and retreat!”
In peering over to Joker, Akechi gets an idea of the others, too. They’re all still standing– just barely. It takes everything in them to stay on their feet. Skull is leaning heavily on his weapon, eyes ablaze and focused on this unpredictable adversary. Fox has gone silent, his stance low, steadying himself with a hand on the ground next to him. Joker hasn’t turned to look. Joker’s eyes are fixed on what could come to be their killer.
“Crow.”
There is, somehow, so much resolve in that one word– the calm, silent calling of his ‘name’– that Akechi is brought to focus. It couldn’t be that he had a plan for this, too, could it? Was he really so sure of himself? Of all of them?
Akechi listens. He refuses to die here.
“One last push. We’ll make it.”
Finally, Joker’s eyes meet his. Hard, unyielding, unshakeable.
Crow plants his sword into the ground next to him, bringing his body to stand at full height.
“...Understood.”
They work like a machine. It would take nothing less than mechanical perfection for them to escape with their lives. Even with the pit of doubt in his chest that it would amount to nothing, Akechi casts what he is asked to, debilitates the creature before it can strike again. The same monumental effort is put in as Fox uses the last of his power to energize them, and Skull follows up with more of the same.
Joker only hesitates for a moment, taking his mask in hand and bowing his head to focus. He pulls the mask free from his eyes and a new, immense figure appears above him, cloaked in white robes, a blinding light reflecting off of its wings, an instrument primed for use between skeletal fingers. From where Akechi is standing, he can see Joker smirk.
“Do you hear that?”
Akechi isn’t sure the monster even understands human speech, but it's one, wild eye shifts to focus on Joker.
“Those are the trumpets that announce the coming of your downfall.”
Under any other circumstances, Akechi would pass the words off as needless flair; hide his resentment and continue on. Now, the words spark rage in him instead. They were at death’s door, only moments away from meeting their end in these decrepit tunnels crawling with beasts, now was not the time for games. He wants to yell something, to attack, lash out with whatever strength is left in his body, and every reaction that comes to him is instantly frozen when the monster slowly raises one of its guns in Joker’s direction.
A distraction.
The next few moments pass too quickly for Akechi’s mind to keep up in its addled state. The pull of a trigger is simultaneous with an explosion of light. It consumes Akechi and the monster and Joker and each of the others. He almost believes the effort was wasted, that he had died despite everything, and, even, that he’d made it into heaven with bloodied, unrepentant hands.
Akechi opens his eyes to empty subway tracks stretching off into darkness.
“We did it!”
Skull’s voice is too loud in his ears. The brute nearly collapses over Joker, partially from exhaustion and partially in a celebratory hold that has even Joker readjusting to keep his footing. Only then does Akechi regain his bearings enough to assess his own condition. At some point he’d been grounded by the final clash. When he stands, there’s a renewed stamina in him, enough to stand, but likely only enough to make it back to the entrance of Mementos. Brushing off his coat and refusing to show how affected he was, Akechi approaches Joker.
“That was– close.”
Akechi can see Skull scowling some in his direction, but it’s blotted out by Joker’s gaze, free of the fire that had burned into it while staring down the monster. It was apologetic, pitiful, almost. Akechi doesn’t care for it.
“Sorry. I won’t let it happen again.”
He can distract himself from the wretched sensation of being looked down upon by focusing instead on Joker’s strategy. It was reckless and foolish to put himself squarely in the sights of such a powerful enemy, but he must have known his survival was guaranteed. He must have been so sure of his own strength that failure had never been an option.
“I suppose I’m also quite impressed. Taunting the creature that way, it was intended to pull its ire away from your teammates was it not? Once it was focused on you…”
Joker’s hands are in his pockets, his posture is too-relaxed again.
“It’s my turn for an assessment, now?”
The question stops Akechi in his tracks. He finds himself laughing. He supposes so.
Morgana’s motor is loud as it approaches, the cat having already collected the other Thieves. He turns sideways and offers an opened door, beckoning them to enter.
“You’re giving him too much credit anyway, Crow.”
The cat seemed to have overheard their conversation.
“He only does all that because he likes being dramatic.”
…
The air was always more refreshing outside of the Metaverse after too much time spent within its clutches. A different kind of fatigue set in, too. One that weighed the body down like the gripping pressure of the ocean. So long as thoughts of their near-death experience didn’t resurface, Akechi was sure he’d sleep soundly tonight.
The Phantom Thieves clearly felt a similar mix of relief and exhaustion. They crowded around their leader and spoke almost dreamily about getting to their homes, escaping the day’s difficulties. Akechi could disappear and be all but forgotten until he was called upon again to play nice, hopefully this time for the Palace’s treasure instead of the smaller interpersonal qualms the Thieves were so wont to meddle in.
As he turned on his heel to do just so, he was halted. Ren called out to him again, his real name this time, casual and clean of the steeliness his codename had had mid-battle. He looks back and Ren is approaching him, eyed by the others. An insincere smile wants to overtake Akechi’s expression, but he fights back the response so deeply trained within himself to meet Ren face-to-face as himself– as close to himself as he’s allowed. He can’t quite tell, but the illusion of something more real seems to please Ren.
“Good work today.”
Akechi crosses his arms. The same sentiment could have simply been conveyed as a text. Still, he humors him.
“Was I as helpful a pawn as expected?”
Akechi gets the same pause as he had after Ren’s first evaluation. His expression is different, though. Like he’d come to an understanding in just the few hours between then and now. He was good at catching on, almost worryingly so.
“No. More like my hidden ace.”
It had taken Akechi this long to realize there was something worse than pity from Ren Amamiya. Something where hatred would have been more welcome. It was authenticity, raw and genuine and without the saccharine edge of false niceties. Ren was, for all intents and purposes, Akechi’s enemy. An enemy that had foolishly opened himself up to allow Akechi alongside him, protecting him, protecting his friends.
This was the plan from the beginning. Akechi was where he needed to be, where he’d put himself. What exactly was going wrong?
He’d gotten too comfortable. He’d shown too much of himself. He wasn’t sure when it had happened. He had to pull back and reinforce the wall between them, or things would get dangerous. More dangerous than they were now. Akechi already allowed his life to be put on the line, strung along by what might have been trust. Joker was meant to be in his hands, not the other way around.
“Good.” Akechi smiles. Pleasant. Fake. “I look forward to our continued cooperation.”