Chapter Text
Akechi Goro can say he lived a rather full life. After all, he spent quite an amount of his formative years with various families before his 14th birthday, offered his services to one of the most powerful men in Japan who also happened to his bastard of a father, was chosen by some God, sowed chaos in Tokyo populace, and died…twice. The past seven years in detention was an undoing of that, a second shot in life he quite didn’t deserve.
Juvenile Training School is better than ending up in the streets homeless, at least. And it provided a place for the much needed reflection of everything that has happened. Seven years had been long enough to stew on the consequences of his poor decisions and the last part of his self-imposed rehabilitation is facing the world or facing the reality that the world had forgotten about him.
Niijima Sae stands patiently at the gates of the Kitsuregawa Juvenile Training School, as stern as ever. She waits with her arms crossed over her chest, her sharp eyes a striking contrast to the faint smile playing on her lips. Goro doesn’t deserve being looked at like that but he still stops in front of her to be scrutinized.
Before Goro can greet his old mentor properly, she gestures at the taxi cab waiting a few meters behind her. "I made us a dinner reservation at seven....non-conveyor-belt sushi, just the way you like it. Let’s talk in the car; I don’t want to miss the train."
“It’s nice to talk to you again too, Sae-san.” Goro murmurs to himself, following her quick stride. Just like good old times.
The train ride to Tokyo passes without incident. Sae is neck-deep in her cases, her fingers flying across the keyboard of the laptop in front of her. She has far better ways to spend her time than fetching an old colleague like Goro, a person who hurt her in every way that mattered.
And yet, against her better judgment, she stubbornly ingrains herself in his life, no matter how bleak or messy it has become.
“Akechi-kun,” Sae suddenly calls him thirty minutes into the ride. “You have been studying law at Kitsuregawa, right? Are you familiar with the Shinken law following the divorce of the parents?”
“The One-Parent Child Custody law? Yes, I’m quite familiar.”
Sae nods, a smile curling in her lips. “I want to know your thoughts for this case. I already have a pleading drafted but I want to cover all bases once I filed this with the Family Court.”
Goro stares at her for a moment, arching a brow. “I may be an ex-convict, Sae-san but I’m not a charity case. More importantly, not a lawyer.”
“Yet you are studying about it.” Sae says, putting her hand on her cheek as she looks at him clinically. “Come on, humor me. At least I can get my money’s worth for the trip here and for the sushi.”
The rest of the trip is spent with the two of them trading ideas and testing legal strategies, with Goro gamely taking on the role of opposing counsel, working with what little legal knowledge he has to poke holes in Sae’s arguments. It’s almost effortless, the way they slip back into the rhythm they once had at the Special Investigations Unit—she, the battle-ready prosecutor who took no nonsense; he the soft-spoken detective prince with a camera-ready smile —one that concealed sharper instincts than most ever gave him credit for, along with a wild, scrappy persona no one would have imagined he possessed.
Only this time, the roles have shifted. She is now a seasoned, if slightly mellowed, defense attorney, her reputation reaching even the sterile white halls of the juvenile facility. And he is the one confined within those same walls, trying to piece together a new life for himself, even if it means studying law for a profession he may never truly get to practice.
The train rolls into a stop at the Tokyo station just before dusk settles heavily into the city skyline. Immediately, Goro is overcome with a sudden wave of nausea of how achingly familiar the sensations that hit his senses at the same time,,,, the hectic footsteps of crowds rushing in and out of the train, the pleasant voice of subway announcer from the intercom, the jingle of coins hitting the metal tray from the ticket machine, the smell of sweat, smoke and disinfectant emanating from the floor. He nearly sways as he steps onto the platform, but Sae's hand closes firmly around his shoulder, grounding him before he can lose his balance.
“Are you alright? Do you need a moment?”
Goro weakly disengages himself from her touch, putting his face mask on. “I’m fine. T-Thank you. Just a little dizzy.”
Sae doesn’t pry any further and instead, gestures lamely at the sight before them. “Welcome back to Tokyo.”
“I would be lying if I said I looked forward to getting back to this.” Goro says. He takes a deep breath before squaring his shoulders, “I’m ready to go.”
Sae spares him one cursory glance before walking ahead and Goro is hit again with the feeling of deja vu, with Sae leading the charge across Tokyo and him following close behind with his briefcase and good boy stride. His gloved fingers stretch longingly for the familiar weight of the briefcase and so, he tightens his hold to his satchel — the remnants of an old life.
Sae doesn’t lead him to their usual sushi place. Mid-stride, she explains that it has become a popular dinner spot for lawyers in the city, and she has no desire to run into anyone from that circle tonight. Instead, she takes him to a more expensive, more secluded restaurant just a few blocks from the Wilton Hotel. The establishment is run by a kindly old man—a fifth-generation sushi master from Kyoto—who serves them a generous spread of delicacies. After exchanging a few warm pleasantries with Sae, he discreetly leaves them alone.
After a brief thank you for the meal, Goro happily dugs into this dish, savoring the rich burst of flavor in his mouth, unable to stop the pleasant hum from coming out of his lips.
“Slow down,” Sae says in front of him, a smile in her voice. “There’ll be plenty of that from where it came from.”
Goro ignores her and continues to eat. Fresh sushi in juvie hall was a rare treat.
As they eat, Sae goes on the last seven years that he missed. He half listens, half eats, feigning indifference but he can’t stop his body from straightening when she casually drops the following words.
“You’d be pleased to know what Amamiya-kun is up to.”
Goro slows his chewing, still refusing to meet her eyes.
She continues, “He’s working as a sous chef in L'Effervescence, just 15 minutes away from Shibuya. He’s been working there for two years now. I’ve been there a few times with Makoto and the rest. It’s quite a nice place, and I’m sure he’d love to see you.”
Goro closes his eyes for a brief moment, finally putting down his chopsticks. “I doubt he would “love” to see a dead man walk into his place of work. Unless….you went against your word by already telling him of my survival.”
“I didn’t breathe a word.” Sae says, idly sipping her tea. “A promise is a promise. But you know how sharp Amamiya-kun is. I just let him think what he wants. More importantly, he and the others are doing well and I suppose that’s what you want to hear.”
Goro is pleased to know he’s right, but he doesn’t have the heart to gloat over it. Years ago, he convinced Sae that the others will be fine and they don’t need to know that he survived for them to move on. They’re strong. Let them think that Akechi Goro died. That will make the healing for both sides easier.
Anyway, he has no plans to reach out. Goro’s freedom will not change that. Their paths have already crossed once, and naturally, each will now go its own separate way. He can’t imagine a future where he will be a part of theirs.
Sae seems to read his mind and her eyes soften. “At the very least, you should let Amamiya-kun know. Didn’t you say you owe him?”
Goro glares at Sae-san. Of course, he remembers that. He owes Ren so much, in more ways Ren wouldn’t know, but doesn’t need to know. Goro’s own determination pulled him through the trenches of injustice in his youth but it was his promise with Ren that got him through the seven years of metaphorical self-flagellation. He promised Ren he will carve his own path and they will remain equals in every sense of the word.
The silence between them stretches for two beats before Sae gracefully drops the subject....and her next words set him on edge.
“Your father asked for you.”
She remains nonplussed at the sharp glance Goro shoots her. “So he knows that I’m free,” he says at last, “Did you tell him?”
“He actually doesn’t know. He kept asking one of our men regarding your status, if you were pardoned or anything. We simply told him you served your time,” she says. “I think he’s hoping we’d let him see you once you are done with your sentence.”
“We both know I wouldn’t do that. Who knows what I’m capable of doing?” Goro sneers unabashedly. “I would happily strangle him with the handcuffs on his hands. Shit, I can finally be tried as an adult this time and get what I truly deserve.”
“No one’s forcing you see him, Akechi-kun,” Sae says quietly. “But at any rate, he gave us this.”
She reaches for her bag and slides a plain manila folder across to him. From his father. Akechi stares at it blankly.
“I don’t want anything to do with him,” he says at last.
“He was very adamant for you to see what’s inside, though.”
“And?” Goro counters petulantly, “His influence over me ended years ago.”
Sae squirms uncomfortably in her chair, sighing. “I had a feeling you’d react this way. If you don’t mind, I took the liberty of checking what’s inside. There’s no way I’d hand you anything from him without knowing exactly what it was.”
“I appreciate the sentiment,” Goro replies tersely. “But there’s nothing you can say or do that will convince me to look at it—“
“You have a younger sibling.”
Goro wraps his hands around his cup of cold tea. Raises it to his lips. Puts it back to the table without sipping.
“Don’t fuck with me.”
Sae merely raises a brow and gestures at the folder. “It’s all in there.”
He doesn’t break any eye contact, even as Sae finishes her own cup of tea. “Burn it, read it - I don’t care. What happens next is entirely up to you.” She stands up and looks at him square in the eye. “It’s the same thing with catching up with Amamiya-kun and the rest. At this point, no one’s forcing you decide. Not anymore.”
She checks her phone for a bit before clasping his shoulder. This time, Goro doesn’t flinch at the touch, but he still doesn’t welcome it. “I hope you have a good life, Akechi-kun.” she adds softly.
“Wait,” he says, reaching for his satchel. Sae-san waits.
He grabs the worn letter from the bottom of his bag and hands it over his shoulder, not looking at her. The back of the letter has Ren’s name on his crisp handwriting. “My parting gift to the Phantom Thieves," he intones flatly.
Sae takes the letter from his trembling hands, though if she does, she gives no sign of it. Instead, she says with a smile on her voice, “We both know he’s not just going to be satisfied with this.”
“I’ll let you handle it.” Goro replies airily, finally turning around to face her.
They hold each other’s gaze for a long, quiet moment, both aware it may be the last time. He has no phone, no apartment to return to: nothing that anchors him here in Tokyo. Soon, he’ll slip back into the cracks, a ghost among the living.
He bows deeply to Sae, gloved hands on his knees. “Thank you for everything, Sae-san.”
Sae offers him one last smile before walking away to the dorrs....and maybe, from his life, forever.
But he has more urgent matters to face now. The manila folder lies there in silent judgment, daring him to open it. All that remains of his father—of their relationship, destructive as it was—has been reduced to something as ordinary and impersonal as a plain manila folder.
A sibling. Are you fucking kidding me?
Seven years of no contact and he drops this bombshell like nothing. Angrily, Goro tears the manila folder open, imagining it was Loki’s claws prying Shido’s head from his shoulders.
Just like that, a two-page note slips free, followed by a faded photograph of a young woman singing on the stage of a dimly lit bar. Then a small ziplock bag, a single key sealed inside.
For the life of him, Goro can’t imagine how his father managed to keep these things while in prison, and he refuses to dwell on it. Instead, his attention fixes on the note, two pages covered back to back in his father’s unmistakable handwriting.
There is no greeting, no salutation. His father has the sense to forgo formalities between them. Even putting Goro’s name to paper while in custody, spoken or written, could have jeopardized Goro’s sentence.
If you are reading this letter, I trust that you are already free.
I have long accepted my fate that I will rot here until my death sentence is finally carried out. I have done terrible things. You already know that. My death is not enough to pay for everything that I’ve done.
For a long time, I’ve known you are my son. I know your plans to kill me, and yet I kept you around so I can use you to further my ambition.
We are far beyond the point of apologies and I doubt you would accept it. I do have one last thing to tell you, one that I would have inevitably tell you years ago had I became the Prime Minister….and before you take my life.
I would have given you one last name: Tenma Rei. You might’ve known her, maybe you haven’t. She’s an actress who had just her debut in some drama years ago. I’ve half a mind to marry her when I get elected to my image favorable to the public. She was one of my contingency plan once I finally get rid of you.
However, she called me one day to let her know that she’s pregnant. I told her to get rid of it. I never wanted children, as you already know. So many women I’ve been with gladly did as they were told. Others, foolishly, did not, including your mother. Rei followed the same path. She disappeared soon after. I planned on taking care of her after the elections, and perhaps, push you to one last test of loyalty by ordering you, yourself, to take care of her. Who knows, she might have been your last straw…not Okumura, nor that brat I ordered you to dispose of.
Will you do it? Probably not. That woman will remind you of your mother. Perhaps you will. You are my son, after all. Do not forget that.
I have no way of knowing where Rei is anymore. My allies are dead or have long abandoned me. All I know is that, she is born in a town in Kyushu. Arita. She might have fled to her parents, carrying that piece of me she refused to give up.
Do what you will with this information. I have no intention nor any plans to contact her and our child, if she decided to keep it or had a change of heart after learning everything I have done. I wish she got rid of it, for that child’s sake.
Whatever happens from here, it’s on you. You can no longer put this on me, and you can’t hide behind that foolish justice of yours anymore.
Goro puts down the letter and looks at the photograph. His father does have a thing with brunettes - young women with small faces, doe eyes and slim waist. From the moment Shido’s eyes landed on this poor woman, her fate was sealed.
Had Shido ordered him to take care of her, will he do it? He fights the bile rising from his throat and subsequently hates himself for being so squeamish just at the thought. It’s best to leave that question unanswered.
Inside the ziplock, the key bears a small tag stamped with familiar coordinates...the location of a clandestine locker his father once used to stash cash for Goro’s hits, along with the gun. A father’s first and only gift to his son.
He has no doubt the locker holds money this time, a final attempt to help Goro get his shit together.
Fuck that.
Goro has no interest on finding out if his theory is correct. After leaving the restaurant, he heads straight to the post office. He scribbles a brief note, slips the key inside, and addresses the envelope to Tokeiji Temple, the place where he and his mother once stayed, before sending it off.
Whatever they will do with the money, that’s for the priests to decide.
The next day, he tends to his mother’s grave in a small cemetery east of Yoyogi, clearing away leaves and washing the stone until it gleams in the pale light. He spends the morning in quiet contemplation - offering his respects, asking for forgiveness. When the sun is about to reach its zenith, he finally rises to leave, but not before making a promise to return soon once he’s finished what he has to do.
With nothing but a duffel bag and the five hundred thousand yen he managed to save while in detention, he heads to Shibuya Station and buys a one-way ticket to Kyushu.
Without looking back, Akechi Goro...Crow finally takes off.