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Goro Akechi hadn’t wanted to become a killer. Hearing of Wakaba Isshiki’s death was as much a shock to him as anyone else.
Shido had broken the news so casually, handing a fifteen-year-old Goro a preliminary autopsy report as soon as he got his spotless, uncalloused hands on it, congratulating him on a job well done. He’d watched with sharp, hungry eyes the way Goro had frozen in horror; Shido had said destroying her shadow would ‘incapacitate’ her enough to seize her research, and sent Goro into her palace with just enough deniability to claim innocence if and when something went wrong. Goro was too naive at the time to realize nothing had gone wrong. It’d gone horribly, disgustingly right.
The horror didn’t last too long. The funny part of killing is how quickly you become used to it.
He remembered a lot of his first kill. Her palace was a pristine observatory, its sights set beyond the stars and into the human spirit, studying every minute change like supernovas in the sky. Nestled in the center, guarded by her strongest wardens, was a warm home with a lonely girl typing away at graphs and diagrams surrounded by action figures and posters. Wakaba’s Shadow was near identical to the real one, her golden eyes just as piercing. He remembered how she’d fought (lashing out with wires and electricity, pulling from the energy contained in the depths of her enlightened cognition), what she’d said (she knew what was happening, and she’d tried to tell him, and he didn’t listen, there was blood on his face and in his mouth and it was too late to stop now), and how loud she’d screamed (she’d died with her daughter’s name on her tongue).
Of his second, he remembers the palace was in the shape of a restaurant, and the man had serving girls dressed in chains and a gluttonous ogre as his final form.
Of his third, nothing.
His conscience gave a death rattle on his fourth. It went silent on his fifth.
Now, with five-hundred-and-something victims under his belt, he’s ecstatic at the prospect of murdering the one person who’s ever understood him. He’s chomping at the bit to watch the life leave his searching, caustically attentive eyes. He wants to be the last thing Akira Kurusu will ever see, the last thought he’d ever have.
And Sae Nijima is in his way.
“Is there a problem?” he asks the woman standing between him and his prey, carefully leashing his building impatience with a familiar polite veneer.
The way she looks at him is odd; he’d expected more from her palace’s destruction, but she’d always been tougher than the rest, and her suspicious gaze made him grit his teeth. He only has to fool her for a little longer.
Don’t make this difficult now, Sae-san.
“Akechi-kun…” A little longer. She only needs to hold off a little – “Does this phone look familiar to you?”
“...Hm? Excuse me?” he says, taken fully aback.
She’s holding Kurusu’s phone.
There’s a strange swooping sensation in his stomach, like he’s on a roller coaster ride. If just seeing his phone is enough to give him butterflies, he’ll be lucky if he –
Something’s wrong.
“What is this phone?” he asks, shoving his paranoia aside.
“It belonged to the leader of the Phantom Thieves.” Say his name. “I believe you’ll need it for your investigation.”
There’s no way she knows. Kurusu wouldn’t have taken that gamble.
He forces a smile. “Not personally. I was acting alongside the Phantom Thieves myself, remember?”
“True. This is undoubtedly a great accomplishment.” He doesn’t need her praise. (He preens anyways.) “Good luck in there.”
And she’s gone, and with her, Kurusu’s last chance at survival.
He carefully restrains his cackle, hiding a satisfied grin behind his hand.
“Foolish woman…” he sneers, taking the elevator ahead down to the pits.
She did something.
He pushes down the wriggling nervousness building in him. He has a job to do, he doesn’t have time for this.
He should check his phone.
In a minute. He doesn’t want any distractions.
The hallway is barren and utilitarian, with concrete walls and metal doors taking his footsteps and screaming them back at him like a ticking clock. He wonders if Kurusu can hear him.
If he hears the clock strike midnight as he stops at his door.
It’s light work taking out the guard. This isn’t his first real-life murder. He’s not as well-versed in it, but his heart is still and numb at the sight of the man on the ground.
He looks at Kurusu. He looks good with bruises and bloodstains. It’s unfair.
He should check his phone.
He’ll do it after, for fuck’s sake.
“I owe you for all of this. Thanks.”
He should check his phone.
Is he really so damn addicted to that thing he can’t stop thinking about it now?! He idly wonders if he’d subconsciously noticed a text from Shido or something to explain the annoying urges.
He wants to focus on the blank fear in Kurusu’s unfocused eyes, not whatever that’s about. Plus, he has a monologue to get through.
“That’s right. You and your little friends were vital to our plan. And now, it will–”
He’s not real. He should check his phone.
“--be completed,” Goro finishes, a flash of brutal annoyance flaring behind his eyes.
Look at the MetaNav.
…What? Why?
They tricked you.
That wasn’t him. That wasn’t his voice. That wasn’t his thought.
Another foreign flare of emotion, this time of panic.
You just had to make this difficult, didn’t you?
He’s moving. His arm is moving. His right hand finds his pocket and takes out his phone.
He’s frozen solid as the world warps around him in the same way his mind does.
Fine. If you want to play like that, then let’s play.
—------------------------
Sae’s head hurt. She needs painkillers. Or whiskey. Or whatever the hell you need to deal with whatever just happened.
She can’t shake the earnestness shining from Kurusu’s eyes when he spun the most fantastical story she’d ever heard from a suspect. Either he was completely insane, or the world was much, much more complicated than she’d thought.
A corner lends itself nicely to hiding her from view as she tries to collect her racing thoughts.
Could Akechi really…?
She shakes her head. Akechi and Kurusu are friends. Even if he is… that person, he wouldn’t kill him.
…Right?
Nobody would know if things got a little violent.
She nearly jumps out of her skin when Kurusu’s phone rings.
“...What was that all about, showing him this phone…?” she muses before idly checking the caller ID. “The… Phantom Thief Alibaba? Who is this?” She knew the Thieves had a style, but Alibaba is a bit out there, even if it’s strangely familiar.
What’s not strangely familiar is the distorted voice peeling from the speaker.
“I am Alibaba, a member of the Phantom Thieves,” it calls. “I inquire as to your justice, Sae Nijima.”
What follows is near unbelievable.
Kurusu had said Akechi was the true culprit – implied it, rather, but she’s not stupid – but it wasn’t until his casual remark regarding the upcoming murder of his friend that it truly set in.
Her mind is still whirling when the recording is over, but Alibaba isn’t finished.
“Don’t trust the guard, either. He’s an accomplice as well. Now then, I’ll – oh no.”
A burst of pain rings through Sae’s already aching head, making her stumble on her feet.
“S-Something went wrong! You need to get in there now! ”
“You want me to… save him?”
“Go! Tell the guard to fuck off from the doorway, something – ugh, just go, please!”
The click of her heels echo ominously as she rushes back down on autopilot. If she’s correct in her hunch, she knows who this ‘Alibaba’ is, and she’s just a little girl, even younger than Makoto. Even if she didn’t know what she knew, she’d be able to tell just from the frantic begging that sounded so strange from the masked, robotic caller.
When she gets to the door, she just says the first thing that comes to mind for the guard.
“Get away from here right now or you’ll die.”
She mentally gives Alibaba a ‘check’ when the guard scurries off, tail between his legs, as though he’d known his life was on the line one way or another.
When she throws the door open, her mind blanks out completely.
Goro Akechi, the bright kid with the earnest smiles who’d beg her for sushi like she’s the mom he never talks about, had a silenced gun pointed square at Kurusu’s forehead.
Kurusu, who knew Akechi’s plan all along, and yet was still shellshocked staring death’s herald in the eye.
“Akechi…”
“What’s happening?!”
“F-Futaba?” Kurusu warbles, not breaking eye contact with his killer.
“Akira! Where’s – ”
“Akechi-kun–” Sae starts, holding up her hands, phone facing out.
“Stay out of this, Nijima,” Akechi says in a blank, dead tone before he gasps, his eyes wide and frightened. “S-Sae-san… Don’t interfere. I’m sure you know by now wh– wh– I –”
He’s shaking. His face is pale. His skin is clammy. The hand holding the gun is steady and sure.
“Oh, ” Alibaba – no, Futaba – mumbles. “Oh. Oh no.”
“I’m not going to ask how you did it, because I don’t care,” Akechi says, his voice being far too calm for the terror in his eyes. He snatches the phone from Sae’s hand in one swift, sharp movement, holding it up to speak. “But you just had to ruin everything, didn’t you, Oracle? ”
“Did you expect us to just sit back and let our friend die?!” Futaba shouts.
“ Yes, ” Akechi huffs. “You’re all a bunch of stupid brats playing brave heroes in the Metaverse, but when faced with the barrel of a gun, even a hawk will become a dove.”
“Yeah?!” Futaba snaps. “This bunch of stupid brats playing hero outsmarted you!”
“Akechi,” Kurusu starts. His voice was scratchy and rough, but she could hear the forced calm in it. “Look at me.”
“I am.”
“Not you.” Kurusu shakes his head. “The real one.”
“The real one is – is – stop!” The hand holding the gun jerks, startling both Sae and Kurusu, whose flinch looks painful with those bruises. “I’m – Stop struggling. You’re only making things harder for us. This isn’t – this wasn’t – he’s mine, stay away from – you don’t get it, do you?” Watching Akechi argue with himself(?) is equal parts disturbing and mesmerizing. His expression changes on a dime, like someone turns his emotions on or off. “You wanted to kill him, so do it. You’re the one stalling. Fuck off! ”
The gun goes off, grazing Kurusu’s cheek.
“AKIRA!”
“I’m okay,” says Kurusu, who barely flinched at the gunshot with how mesmerized he was by the display.
“Oh my god,” Futaba whines.
“Akechi-kun,” Sae says, her confidence knocked back into place by the panic from the gunshot. “Listen to me. You don’t have to do this.”
“Sae-san,” Akechi whispers, twitching like he wants to look at her but can’t. “Stay out of this.” The fearful tone confirms that was the real Akechi, not… whatever else is in there.
The gun starts to shake. “Whatever this is, you’re stronger than it, okay?” Kurusu chimes in, catching on to her game.
“He’s not,” Akechi responds, tone dead again, before – “Kurusu, I –”
“Fight it!” Futaba cries, the voice modulator deactivated.
“Shut up!”
“Akechi-kun, you’re better than this. I expected better.”
“Shut up!”
“You’re gonna let whatever this is kill me?” Kurusu bites out. “Are you really gonna let someone else–”
“Sh-Shut… UP!”
Sae makes her move, lunging forward to grab the gun as Akechi gasps, but it goes off and the recoil tears it from her fingers, the barrel suddenly hot enough to burn her palm, cringing back while Akechi cackles breathlessly, stumbling back until his head hits the metal door behind him.
“Nice try.”
“Oh shit. ”
She looks up from her blistered hand. Akechi has the gun pointed at his own head.
“Do that again. I dare you.”
The manic monotone made her brain itch with how wrong it was. “Come on, Akechi,” she urges.
“I– I–” Akechi’s eyes squeeze shut, the gun shaking against his jaw. Despite the circumstances, Sae’s heart still clenches at the frightened gasps Akechi lets out, dropping the phone when he brings his hand up to grip his head. “You’re not – I can’t – rgh–!”
He brings his head forward, then slams it back on the door, wobbling on his feet. “You–” slam, “--don’t–” slam, “ c-control me!”
SLAM!
Sae and Kurusu watch Akechi’s body crumple to the ground like a puppet with its strings cut, and stay in stunned silence for a long while.
“...Is he…”
“He’s…” Kurusu starts, breathless. “...He’s out, Futaba…”
And then he passes out.
“K-Kurusu!”
“What happened?! ”
Sae presses two fingers to his neck; slow, but steady. “He’s alright, I think. He’d been fighting off the effects of the drugs so well, I’d nearly forgotten…”
“Drugs?! Ugh… ” Futaba audibly sticks her tongue out with a ‘blegh.’ “Okay. Th-The plan. We were gonna have you smuggle him out, but…”
“But with both him and Akechi out for the count,” Sae finishes, “that makes escape significantly harder.”
“...You’re gonna take Akechi with you?”
“I…” Sae sighs. “I can’t bring myself to just leave him here.”
A long silence passes on the other end.
“...Okay. Alright,” Futaba says. “Um… Okay, new plan. We’ve got some… uh, agents nearby. I’ll… catch them up. Could you go on Akira’s phone again and hit the weird eye app thing? There should be a button that says ‘Mementos.’”
“This?” Sae asks, and the world distorts around her, sending a wave of nausea through her head. The room looks relatively the same, save for the warping edges and fiery dust particles swaying in an unseen breeze, merging into the walls.
“Okay!” Futaba crows. “Phantom Thieves, to the rescue!”