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Ren’s January starts out pretty bad.
Very bad, in fact. Hanging out with Kasumi is fine, running into everyone else is great. Haru and Futaba talking about their dead parents like they’re alive and well is a mood killer. Ryuji talking about the track team like they’re all buddy-buddy is downright weird. Makoto talking about her sister like they’re on good terms is less weird, but still weird.
Ren winces when Kasumi’s dad says her name, a burst of static instead of a word. Kasumi winces too, blinking with confusion, but does nothing else. Weird. Weird.
Ren brushes it off.
-
He stops brushing it off when he wakes up with a stranger in his bed.
He stops brushing it off even more when Wakaba Isshiki herself is sitting in his goddamn house, eating beans like she didn’t just crawl out of a grave.
The stranger turns out to be Morgana, because the universe is just fucking with him at this point, and Ren has to sit down. Preferably as far away from the show of family bonding in the booths as possible.
Ren can appreciate the timing when Akechi shows up, if nothing else. It’s the most normal thing today.
-
“Let’s make a deal,” Akechi says, because of course he does.
“It would be beneficial to both of us,” he continues, because of course he does.
“I can’t trust you,” Ren says, since he really needs to claw back some ground here.
Akechi scoffs, “Do you really think I have any ulterior motives at this point?”
No. Ren doesn’t. He can’t, because Akechi is the most straightforward person he’s ever met, and anyone who can’t tell what he’s thinking behind that mask (easily cracked, even easier to shatter) is an idiot. Most people are idiots, he’s sure Akechi would say.
-
Ren, to his great chagrin, is one of these idiots, because he cannot tell for the life of him what Akechi’s angle is.
“What would we do?” He asks warily.
“Investigate what’s gone wrong with the world, obviously.” Akechi sneers.
Okay. Sure. Maybe that does track. Except nothing tracks. Pleasant laughter and you’re so interesting, Amamiya-kun has been replaced with a sharp stare and even sharper words. Akechi is only straightforward so long as he isn’t rearranging the path beneath their feet, which the asshole has a knack for.
This does feel normal.
Akechi won’t meet his eye. Nothing’s normal.
-
Ren’s about ready to throw in the towel when Kasumi is Sumire is has-been-dead-sort-of the whole time, and he’d love nothing more than for Maruki to put his plans on hold for about a week just so Ren can reorient himself.
He does give them a week. Not without homework, but it’ll do.
“What are you going to do?” Akechi asks, not sounding curious in the least.
“…Try and round everyone up, I guess,” Ren says.
Akechi’s lip curls with distaste. About ten quips of Akechi wanting Ren all to himself flit across his mind. He keeps them locked away.
-
Rounding up the thieves is easier and harder than it seems.
It only takes about one conversation to wedge a solid crack in each of their delusions. One conversation that leaves Ren drained for the whole day following. He can almost hear Morgana telling him to get off his lazy ass, and he probably would hear it, were his cat not a man.
If he wanted to, he could call Akechi and hear much the same thing. If he wanted to, he could call Akechi to talk about anything he wants.
He doesn’t call. The week goes on, as normal.
-
Akechi does call him though, once the week is up. Just to question whether Ren’s been doing anything productive, but it still feels like the world is spinning.
“Are you even listening to me?”
“Yep.” Ren says quickly, dazed. “Listening. Receiving. I got it.”
A pinched sigh on the other end of the line.
“What have you been up to, this week?” Ren asks. He’s on the phone with Akechi. He really could just talk about whatever he wants.
“Finding information on Maruki.” Akechi snips, the voice of someone who prepared for this possibility. “How about we focus on that?”
-
Ren can’t focus at all.
All the thieves are back, which is nice. Sumire has been saved, which is even nicer. School is back in session, which is less nice. Ren also has to lend Akechi one of his uniforms to smuggle him into Shujin for a meeting, which is be the source of the worst of his problems.
“This colour is disgusting.” Akechi comments.
“It’s just red?” Ren says, bemused.
“Who the hell wears all red?”
You still look good in it, Ren thinks, for some reason. This is nice, he thinks, which is even dumber.
“What is it?”
-
Akechi really does have a talent for snapping Ren out of his own thoughts.
“Nothing.” Ren tries to shrug it off. Embarrassing, to be caught daydreaming. “You’re right, my uniform does look weird on you.”
“Implying you manage to pull it off?” Akechi drawls, fixing his hair in the bathroom mirror.
“Of course.” Ren says, trying to put on that showman’s smirk. It fades, when Akechi still won’t look at him.
He tries catching his eye in the mirror. Akechi looks away the second Ren manages to snag a glimpse.
Fine. Fine, whatever. That’s fine.
This isn’t straightforward at all.
-
Ren could call Akechi at any time. He could see him in person any time, too. They could talk about anything. No more lies, no more games.
Maybe some games. A jab, a punch, a swept leg, something fun.
“Don’t you have anything better to be doing?” Akechi asks him, eyes fixed somewhere in the middle distance.
It’s cold, and Ren has a warm attic at home with a whole stockpile of video games to get through. Of course he has better things to be doing. He’d rather be here. “Nah.”
“Then find something.”
“Wanna play billiards?”
“No.”
“Come on.”
-
“I’m not going anywhere with you.” Akechi snarls.
Maybe this is the game Akechi’s playing. Ren’ll bite. “I’ll pay.”
“That’s hardly the issue.”
“And the issue is?”
“You.” Akechi says, pulling out his phone. “It’s late. Doesn’t your cat police your bedtime?”
“Not when he has better things to be doing.”
“You should join him.” Akechi starts walking past him, shoulder-checking him along the way. Ren nearly trips over to keep up. “We have a palace to get through, after all.”
Ren isn’t sure this is a game, anymore. If it is, he doesn’t like it. “I’m still making preparations.”
-
“There you go,” Akechi says. “Something better to do.”
“I want to talk to you, though.”
Akechi finally stops walking, right in the middle of the street. “About what?”
Ren comes up blank. “Anything.”
“Waste of my time.” Akechi starts walking again.
“Anything you want,” Ren promises, hand flinching back before he can do anything stupid, like grab Akechi’s coat.
Akechi doesn’t notice the movement. He would have, if he spared Ren a single look. “There’s nothing to say.”
“I think there is.”
“How unfortunate.” Ren can see a mean smile spread across Akechi’s profile, “You promised I could choose.”
-
Bastard. Asshole. Akechi wins that round, and Ren is left alone in the cold.
Ren used to always have one over on him. No matter how convoluted, no matter how esoteric their conversations got, Ren always new what game he was playing. Playing to win against Akechi. This worked just fine: Ren’s not a fan of losing, so winning before the game began was a nice assurance.
There’s no game anymore. Not like there used to be. Just the thieves versus Maruki, and Akechi barely seems to be playing at all.
Their infiltration begins. Akechi still won’t look at him.
-
Ren starts trying to pull stunts.
Unnecessary flips, added flair, just a healthy heaping of overkill to everything he does as they breeze through Maruki’s palace.
Nothing works, because of course it doesn’t. Ren is this close to grabbing Akechi by the shoulders and making him look at him. During November, Akechi’s eyes were like a spotlight, always fixed on his mark. During December, they were needles, razor sharp and trying to pin him down.
Now, nothing. Not even a flicker.
Did I do something? Ren wants to ask, but the answer’s obvious, and the question’s pathetic. He says nothing.
-
Makoto pulls him aside, at some point.
“I hate to do this,” She says. “I’m not sure what’s wrong, but you’re being overly reckless. Morgana’s been working overtime to patch you up after you get in a tough scrape.”
Is she sure that isn’t from having Akechi back on the team? He doesn’t even need to get hit for him to come out of a fight bloody and half dead. Ren doesn’t voice this.
“Sorry.” He says instead. “I’ll try to tone it down.”
Makoto gives him a funny look.
“You can rely on us, you know,” She says, tentatively.
-
Ren gives her a smile. “I know.”
“I mean it,” She presses. “What’s all this about, really?”
They’re all still gathered outside the Odaiba stadium, idly passing time before they split up. Akechi leans against the fence a ways away, staring up at the sky. Ren watches as a snowflake lands on his face, his nose scrunching in annoyance.
“Ren?”
He turns back to Makoto, “It’s nothing.” He insists, “I just missed being in the Metaverse, I guess.” Missed him, for some godforsaken reason. “I’ll tone it back, I promise.” I don’t know how to stop. Why won’t he look?
-
Going through the motions isn’t unfamiliar to Ren. He did it when his parents all but kicked him out. He did it again when all his so-called friends started avoiding the dangerous criminal. He did it again during the worst of Kamoshida’s bullshit, and again with Madarame, and again with—
After November, he let the thieves convictions tug him through. During December he very nearly started tugging back.
January, and he’s going in circles. Running laps, sprinting in all the wrong directions, slipping on ice, there shouldn’t be ice to slip on, not in this reality.
He just needs to—
-
“Hey.” Ren says. Round he-stopped-counting.
Akechi doesn’t even acknowledge that he’s said anything this time, just stares up at the falling snow dusting the Kichijoji streets.
“Hey.”
“I heard you the first time.”
Then fucking talk to me. “We should go to the jazz club.” Ren says. What was the point of even showing me the place if you won’t go there with me? “There’s a singer today, I think.”
“There isn’t.” Akechi says, clipped and uninterested.
Ren’s hands twitch, spasm. He isn’t entirely sure what motion they’re trying to do. Drag Akechi away by force? Bash his skull in?
-
Is this how Akechi felt during November? Turnabout is fair play, Ren supposes, even if he has no idea how Akechi managed to pull this particular trick off. If Akechi would talk to him, maybe Ren could get him to spill.
“They still play the music on record.” Ren says. There’s something bubbling in his throat. Bile?
“I have no interest in hanging out.” Akechi tells him. “In case you’ve forgotten, again, we have a palace to infiltrate.”
“So you’ll hang out with me after?”
“No.” Akechi sneers, “Our deal only covers investigating and solving the issue of this reality.”
-
“So you’re just going to disappear?” The words feel a bit like ice in Ren’s mouth.
Akechi looks at him.
He looks…
“I’ll still be here.” Akechi says, carefully, quietly, something in his eyes Ren can’t read. “Just not with you. Get used to it.”
No.
“No.”
“No?” Akechi’s lip curls, “I wasn’t aware it was your decision to make.”
No, no,
“I’m not trying to—” It gets caught in Ren’s throat.
“What?” Akechi snaps. “What, Ren?”
No, just shut up, for once,
“Jazz club?” He feels pathetic.
“Fuck’s sake, there’s something wrong with you, Ren.” Akechi snarls, and leaves.
-
Oh, there’s something wrong with him?
Fine. Fine, fine, it’s not—
“Uh, Joker?” Oracle’s concerned voice crackles through his head, “You good? Your HP’s kinda low.”
“It’s fine.”
“Maybe you should heal up, dude.” Skull adds.
Queen’s giving him that look again.
Akechi’s giving him nothing.
(easy to crack, even easier to shatter, where’s the fucking chip in the armour?) “You’re getting sloppy.” Ren says.
Akechi inspects his gauntlets.
“I’m talking to you, Akechi.”
“Codenames.” Morgana corrects, like he’d rather be anywhere else.
“Crow.”
“Considering you’re the one drenched in your own blood, you’re in no place to throw stones.”
-
“Take a look at yourself.” Ren snarls, and he sees someone flinch. He doesn’t bother to look who it is.
Akechi tilts his head, like he’s got nothing else to say. What a joke— he’s always got something to say.
“Joker,” Haru interjects coolly. “We’re all rather injured. Perhaps we should take a break?”
Ren would, frankly, rather die.
“Fine,” He says. “Oracle, where’s the nearest saferoom?”
Futaba takes a second too long to respond. “Uh,” She scrambles, “Right. Next couple halls. Not too far!”
“Great.”
There’s the barest of scoffs. it’d be a stretch to call it a huff.
-
Ren almost smirks, before he feels like breaking someone’s nose.
“What was that, Crow?” It really is too bad Akechi’s helmet actually protects his face, unlike the rest of their masks.
“You’re hearing things, Joker,” Akechi says, flat. “Better hurry along to that saferoom before we have to drag you there.”
Ren feels fine. Great, even. Fucking outstanding.
“Big talk,” Is all he says.
Akechi hums.
“No, really,” Ren continues, “You look half dead yourself.”
“Joker,” Someone says.
“Aren’t you going to say anything?” Ren demands.
“Don’t you think I would have said it already if I did?” Akechi cracks.
-
“You really have nothing?” Ren breaks the line, and the thieves all come to a halt as he marches over to stare Akechi down, “Nothing at all?”
Akechi looks at something above him. Even right in his face he still won’t— “Is that not what I just said?”
“Fuck you,” Ren spits.
“Joker,” Someone says again. Makoto, probably.
“You don’t get to—” Ren grasps at the front of Akechi’s whatever-the-fuck-he’s-wearing, “Don’t fuck with me.”
Akechi looks at him, “I don’t owe you a damn thing.”
Ren nearly breaks his hand, colliding half against Akechi’s helmet and half against his face.
-
He’s pretty sure it’s Ryuji who locks his arms behind his back to drag him away a few paces. He thinks it’s Sumire who gasps so loud she chokes. It must be Makoto and Morgana who are yelling.
Akechi barely staggered, but his head had whipped to the side when Ren’s fist cracked against his face.
Akechi looks at him again. His mask is shattered on one side, his sneer on full display, one rusty eye glinting with something unreadable.
He looks like—
He looks like when,
Ren tastes bile.
Akechi keeps looking at him, still.
“Let’s leave.” Ren whispers.
-
They leave.
No one protests, and no one stays quiet. Hushed yells and stage whispers that Ren can’t hear with his head underwater. He thinks someone does protest when he marches off without a word once they’re back in reality. It’s hard to ignore his buzzing phone and the sudden influx of texts after he’s back at Leblanc, and Ren leaves that alone too.
Ren leaves all of it alone. He doesn’t call a meeting, and he doesn’t think about Maruki’s palace. He does think about klaxon alarms and promises behind doors.
They have time. He has plenty of time.
-
“You know we don’t have time for this, right?” Futaba tells him, after forcing his phone to receive her call.
“We’re almost done with the palace,” Ren says.
“Yeah, almost. We still gotta go back.”
“We have time,” Ren insists.
“We have a week,” Futaba corrects. “I don’t know what the hell’s going on with you and Akechi, but—”
Ren hangs up.
“Have you tried talking it out?” Ann asks one class. She doesn’t have to say who she’s talking about.
Ren stares at her blankly. “Do you think I haven’t tried?”
She bites her lip. “Well… Maybe try harder?”
-
Ren doesn’t snap at her. He doesn’t say anything at all.
Ann seems unsettled by the lack of response. “Like, I know Akechi’s a lot, but I kinda thought he was on our side?”
Ren did, too.
“And he’s always talked to you the most!”
Ren is well aware.
“And, uh…” Ann looks more and more uncomfortable, “Ren, that wasn’t you.”
“What wasn’t,” He does snap, after all.
“I’ve never seen you throw a punch,” She says. “Everyone’s worried. Mona’s sick of staying at Futaba’s.”
Maybe, you just don’t know me, he thinks unfairly.
Well, none of this is fair.
-
He ignores everyone some more, and one day ticks to two ticks to three—
“I never thought you’d be this pathetic.”
Ren sits up in his bed so fast he gets dizzy.
Akechi stands near the attic stairs, dispassionate expression fixed in place.
Ren’s mouth feels dry. He swallows. He swallows again. “Your face feel better?”
Akechi scoffs, “Please, you couldn’t throw a punch to save your life.”
“I broke your mask.”
“And only the mask. You missed.”
Ren wants to smile. Is this what they could be, if Akechi wasn’t a piece of shit and Ren wasn’t a fuck-up?
-
He doesn’t say sorry. Akechi doesn’t either, and privately Ren is kind of pissed off about that.
“Get up,” Akechi says.
“Why?”
“Because we have four days to finish the palace,” Akechi says slowly, like Ren is stupid. “Unless you want to fuck us all over by moping, then get up.”
“Oh, I’m moping,” Ren grits.
Akechi tilts his head. “I’ve done nothing but aid you in this,” He says, deceptively calm, “Throw a tantrum all you like, but we have things to do.”
“And plenty of time to do them.”
“What part of four days aren’t you getting, Joker?”
-
“We had time,” Ren concedes. “And you spent all of it—”
“Are you serious?” Akechi’s lips curl into a sneer, “You’re going to demand why I haven’t been entertaining you?”
Akechi’s a piece of shit who can spin anything. Ren knows this, he knows this better than anyone, he knows Akechi better than anyone, damn him for pretending there’s nothing left to say.
“I want to know why you won’t look at me,” Ren says, voice cracked with desperation.
Akechi looks away.
“Don’t you fucking dare,” Ren snaps, and stands.
“I don’t understand why you’re obsessed with this,” Akechi mutters.
-
Ren storms over to the attic stairs, forcefully grabbing Akechi by the chin and pulling him down.
“Don’t turn this back on me,” Ren bares his teeth.
Akechi hisses, halfheartedly attempting to tug himself free. “You’re the one who punched me in the face.”
“I thought it didn’t hurt.”
“It didn’t. Doesn’t mean it wasn’t fucking annoying.”
Ren is very tempted to punch him again. Maybe he’ll get a good shot properly this time, without the mask in the way. He thinks Akechi would look good with a black eye.
“Tell me, then,” Ren says, digging his nails in tight.
-
“There’s nothing to tell,” Akechi says, apparently giving up on not staring Ren in the face.
“We had a promise.”
“Our deal,” Akechi says, disdainful, “Is only within the bounds of dealing with this farce of a reality.”
“Not that.” Ren can’t tell if his voice is strained because he’s going to cry or going to scream, “You know I’m not talking about that.”
“That’s a shame.” Akechi says, ripping himself out of Ren’s grip and taking one pace back. “Because I don’t know.”
Ren takes one pace forward. “Liar.”
“Name-calling? Really?” Akechi scoffs.
“Piece of shit,” Ren hisses. “Bastard.”
-
Ren rips the glove burning a hole in his pocket out and throws it. It hits Akechi in the chest, and falls to the floor with a pathetic attempt at gravitas.
“Liar,” Ren says again, and— oh, he is crying. Stop, he hisses to himself, stop that, “You came back.”
Akechi stares at the glove on the ground.
Ren grabs at his coat, “You came here, too.”
“Someone needed to talk sense into you,” Akechi says distantly.
“Anyone could do that,” Ren lies, “Why are you pretending we’re done with each other?”
“Maybe I want to be done,” Akechi spits.
-
“No,” Ren refuses. “No, you don’t.”
Akechi’s a liar, but he wasn’t lying on Shido’s ship. Whatever carousel of masks he had going had lain cracked and broken on the ground and he promised, Ren promised, and Akechi agreed,
“Are you in charge of that now, too?” Akechi tilts his head.
Ren isn’t in charge of fucking anything, apparently.
“Is it so much to ask for you to stay?” Ren won’t beg. He isn’t.
“Stay,” Akechi echoes. “Stay where? Here? In your shitty attic for the rest of time?”
“Anywhere,” Ren’s voice breaks. Stop, stop it. “Anywhere. I don’t care.”
-
“With you?” Akechi asks with venom.
Ren sniffs. “Yeah.”
Akechi says nothing.
“You won’t talk to me,” Ren says. “You won’t say where you’re going after this is over.”
“Maybe I’ll travel,” Akechi tells him. Smells like a lie, everything does.
“Do whatever the fuck you want,” Ren drags him a little closer, “But come back.”
“And if I don’t want to?” Akechi sneers.
“You promised.” Ren kicks at the glove between their feet.
“And if I can’t?”
“Then we’d fix it.”
“I recall turning myself in, you know,” Akechi says. “Tell me, how do you feel like fixing that?”
-
“Of course I’ll fix it,” Ren tells him, knuckles turning white. “I’ll fix everything.”
Akechi looks at him with something close to pity. Ren almost wants to punch him again.
“I will,” He insists.
“Careful,” Akechi says, quietly. He lays his hands over Ren’s where they’re balled up in his coat, and pries him away. “We’re trying to depose your therapist for that kind of talk.”
Ren doesn’t laugh. “Say it.”
Akechi narrows his eyes.
“Say what you’re going to do,” Ren demands.
“And then what?”
And then?
Then, they have a palace to finish. A calling card to write.
-
Akechi stares, eyes flitting about Ren’s face. Ren tries not to shrink back. He wanted this. He wants this.
“Say I do come back.” Akechi says, dropping Ren’s hands, “Say that I stay.”
“I want you to.”
“I know,” Akechi tells him. “Really, what are you going to do?”
Ren crouches down, and picks up the glove. “Anything. Whatever you want to do.”
“Dangerous,” Akechi comments.
“I like danger,” Ren carefully puts the glove back in his pocket.
“I’m aware.”
Ren waits, and Akechi works his jaw.
“So?” Ren’s terrible at waiting, and he’s been waiting all month and more.
-
Akechi looks up, “Alright.”
Ren blinks. His mouth feels dry. His eyes feel wet. His heart feels like a wreck. “Alright?” he says. Too weak. Always too fucking weak. He’s been on a losing streak.
“Alright,” Akechi repeats. “I’ll stay. I’ll come back.”
Ren does not gasp, does not take a shuddering breath. “A bit contradictory.”
“You’ve spent the past five minutes babbling nonsense, and now you’re arguing semantics?” Akechi clicks his tongue. “Consider it covering my bases.”
Ren laughs. Too shaky. Akechi smiles at him, small and a bit sad and not any different from the way he lies.
-
The most obvious man on the planet, and Ren can’t tell if he’s lying.
Why won’t he look at me. He’s been avoiding Ren’s gaze for weeks! The mark of a guilty conscience. Does he look at Ren and see a bruised face and a bloody forehead? Does Ren haunt him, the still-living spectre of the only one who managed to escape his crosshairs?
Stop looking at me. If he haunts Akechi, then Akechi haunts him too. Gunshots and metal doors and
Ren won’t think of this. It’s an unspoken rule among the thieves to not speak of it, either.
-
He promised. A second one to add to the ledger. A third, Ren supposes. The second one yet to be fulfilled. Shido’s heart has been beaten into shape, while a glove still lies carefully enshrined in Ren’s pocket.
Promises, dangerous things. Deals, however! Much simpler, much more fun.
“About time,” Akechi says when they finally secure the route to Maruki’s treasure.
“We were going as quickly as we could,” Haru says, blatantly false. Ren appreciates the backup.
Akechi snorts. He looks at Ren (in the eyes and everything!) and nods. Understanding, a reaffirmation.
No lies. No tricks. Lying about what—
-
There is a café, and there is a dusting of early-February snow. There is a trickster, and there is a dirty liar, a bastard, a piece of shit who lied, he lied, he fucking—
And Ren believed him! Like a damned fool!
“Get a grip,” Akechi hisses. Remorseless!
“Fuck you,” Ren tries to shout. It comes out as a sob. Anger can only spill forth as tears and his face is wet, his mouth is dry, his heart has been twisted out of his chest and spat upon like the worthless trash it apparently is.
Akechi just looks sad. Unrepentant!
-
What right does he have, to look tortured about this? To lie and be dead and still demand Ren make the choice?
“Please don’t make me do this,” Ren says.
“You promised,” he begs. Akechi isn’t saying anything.
“Please,”
I’ll do anything, he doesn’t say, but he’s sure Maruki hears him.
What do I have to do?
Akechi’s eyes widen, like he can hear it too. “Ren. Don’t you dare.”
What the hell is he supposed to do! Bruise his knuckles on headstones? Kiss the fresh dirt and hope the corpse six feet below gets the message?
I’ll do anything!
-
(It’s not winter anymore.)
(“Nice day out,” Akechi comments.)
(Ren hums in vague agreement. It’s always a nice day out.)
(Akechi swirls his coffee around in his mug. Ren made it too hot on purpose. If Akechi noticed, then apparently the weather was the more interesting thing to mention.)
(“Ren,” Akechi says.)
(“Mm?”)
(Akechi pouts. “Won’t even look at me?” Too sweet. Too charming. Too head-over-heels. Maybe Maruki thought Red would want that. Maybe he does. He wishes Akechi would hit him. Punch him. Whatever.)
(Too violent. Not a wish to be fulfilled.)
(Ren looks at him, and smiles back.)