Chapter Text
Against all odds, Akechi was going to miss the conveyor belt sushi when he went to jail.
“So you’re saying that there were absolutely no crimes committed.”
Akechi glanced up at Sae. He adjusted his gloves, trying not to appear worried. It had been around three in the afternoon when he had finally worked up the courage to crawl back to the office and let Nijima know about the progress—or lack of—in their case. He shifted in his uncomfortable folding chair. Sae pushed down Akechi’s last line of defense; his open briefcase he had been pretending to peruse.
“I’m talking to you,” Sae growled. Akechi sighed disdainfully. Sae had a terrible habit of clinging onto her stubborn sense of justice as a drowned shrew does to a lifesaver.
“Yes, no crimes committed,” he said, injecting warmth into his voice. “I merely followed Hamamura to his room, conversed with him, and decided to give up the case.”
“Ah,” Sae said, eyes lighting up in false understanding. He regretted ever teaching her sarcasm. “Is that why there’s blood in your hair and you’re bruised all over?”
Akechi barely restrained himself from rolling his eyes at that.
“I assure you, Sae-san, I’m perfectly alright,” he said through gritted teeth. He hadn’t been aware there was blood in his hair. He hadn’t been aware of anything recently, tormented as he was by the internal dilemma to tear down Narukami’s gang of idiots. Ever since receiving their phone numbers, he had been getting strange messages from the whole bunch of imbeciles. Primarily of felines of all shapes and sizes, as well as playlists and horrific food creations. He never responded to any of them.
Unfortunately, they knew too much about him to report them to Nijima. He would have to do their bidding for now, lest it come back to bite him in the interrogation.
He didn’t like being under someone’s control. He shuddered.
I’ll dispose of them in due time. Less Persona users in this world is for the better.
Sae stared at him, attempting to wear him down with her Prosecutor Stare. Akechi glared right back.
“Inaba’s department is already under duress,” she muttered, twisting a strand of her grey hair between her fingers.
Ah. Akechi had seen it on the news; some kid serial killer by the name of Mitsuo Kubo had escaped the rehab facility. Akechi had watched all the documentaries of him with morbid curiosity, but had come away disgusted. Such a simpleton. Blunt force, really?
“Akechi,” Sae said. Akechi had the feeling it wasn’t the first time he had said it.
“I apologize.” He recovered, internally kicking himself for the slip-up. “I’ll take the heat for this one, Sae-san,” He chuckled lightly. “I need some more contrarians in my life.”
Sae frowned deeply.
“I’m just…worried.”
She choked the words out like she was a mother bird attempting to regurgitate a spiny pufferfish. Akechi made a face. Thankfully, the concern was swept away by another fiery Look.
“If I wasn’t thinking straight, I might even get the idea that you attempted to pursue the group all so you didn’t have to split any credit with me, and ended up bloody and bruised as a result of your ‘intelligence’. But you wouldn’t do that.”
“I’m glad you know me so well, Sae-san,” Akechi said smoothly.
Her face scrunched up defiantly. If it was anyone but Sae-san, they might have agreed to drop it there. Yet, Akechi knew, quite miserably, that Sae Nijima would find out the truth about everything eventually. It was only a matter of time.
Hopefully I can kill myself before then.
“I need you to trust me,” he tried. After a moment of hesitation, he widened his eyes and gave her his best impression of a feeble child. “We both protect and serve, don’t we?”
Whether it was his puppy-dog eyes or the mention of her misconstrued justice, Akechi wasn’t sure, but something in Sae’s eyes shifted. She frowned.
“We’re talking about this later,” she warned. “In the meantime, I’ll do my best to get the investigation halted. For the time being.”
He made a show of slumping in relief. “Thank you. It’s really screwy what the department is trying to do with these regular folks.”
“Now you’re laying it on too thick.”
That got a genuine laugh out of him. Sae scowled.
“Well,” he said, stretching. “Nice interrogation. I’m hungry. Sushi?”
He cherished the astonishment on Sae’s face at his audacity for a grand total of three seconds before his phone buzzed. He picked it up.
YH: hey CHADkechii js letting you know me and the gang are in town
YH: [teddiemaidoutfit.png]
He slammed his phone down, his cheeks heating.
Sae eyed him suspiciously. “What was that?”
“Work,” he squeaked.
YH: isn’t he a cutieeeee he says sorry again for running you over
This was starting to piss him off. He began typing the introduction to a vivid scene of him ripping Hanamura’s entrails out before the next message came in.
YH: oh also i wanna talk about something, nothing serious dw
YH: what’s your relationship with that shido dude?
He froze.
No. He stared down at the message again and again, reading it once, twice, three times.
They know.
He stumbled to his feet, but Sae snatched up his wrist before he could leave.
“Akechi. Is everything alright?”
He glowered at her, words coming faster than he could think.
“It seems there has been some sort of incident at Shujin,” he said, letting his boyish voice crack a bit. “My friends…I don’t know, exactly, but…”
“At Shujin?” Sae’s eyes widened.
Little Nijima sure is effective with her.
“Please excuse me.”
Akechi waited until Sae’s heels clicked fully away, before spinning in a careful circle, gauging his surroundings. He gave up on the entrails paragraph and typed out a new message.
Akechi: I have no idea what you’re talking about.
YH: Thereee he is! no reply for like a week Princey? that’s not good texting etiquette.
Akechi: I’m sorry, I don’t quite understand what you’re saying.
YH: You can drop all the Detective Prince stuff with me, kid. Yu filled me on how you tried to murder him n all, as well as this freaky Persona you apparently have, and
Akechi gritted his teeth and slammed his finger down on the tiny keyboard.
Akechi: I would love nothing more than to put a bullet through your skull right now.
YH: Woah, glaring at your phone like that isn’t going to make it disappear yk
Glaring at my phone? Akechi looked up.
How would he possibly know?
He was being watched. Quickly, he gathered up his things and headed for where Nijima had disappeared off to. All bets were off. He was going to bring them in first, then orchestrate their deaths, then…
His phone buzzed again.
YH: yoohoo me again pls don’t tell the prosecutor lady i promise i js wanna talk and alsoooo we found some other stuff about you too so like we’re lightly blackmailing you?? kinda
Akechi’s lips pulled back. He squeezed his phone and turned on his heel, searching the room again. The lobby was crowded with prosecutors and police, but security wasn’t as tight as it should have been. It was entirely possible Hamamura had squeezed in under false pretenses.
Akechi: How do you know where I am?
YH: oh the IT has eyes EVERYWHERE. I am everything and nothing, light and dark
Akechi stilled his hands, allowing himself to think. He must have been close to catch Akechi’s expression. There were three more tables in this room, furnished with lovely houseplants, but too sparse to hide behind. Nobody below the age of fifty dared sit down in the presence of their elders. The vending machines were close by.
YH: As we speak, I have eyes all over Japan waiting for your next move.
The back wall, then. The streams of light from the sleek, kaleidoscoping windows attracted the attention of idiots who loved to ogle. He caught sight of a familiar orange head. Hamamura. Hunched over his phone, grinning like a grade schooler. His steps picked up in intensity.
YH: My spies are indetectable there’s no point trying to find them. Your closest friends, allies…
“Even, perhaps, my enemies?” he hissed out, grabbing Hamamura’s collar. He yelped in surprise, skittering back with a crash that made Akechi’s legs trip over themselves, both of their heads colliding painfully as they ended up as a heap on the floor. Akechi let himself hate his life for precisely one millisecond before drawing back, using the opportunity to shove his gun into Hamamura’s gut.
“What do you want,” he hissed.
Hamamura, to his utter despair, didn’t look the slightest bit fazed.
“A chat,” he said, smiling in a way that indicated he wasn’t being entirely honest. “And preferably less people glaring at us.”
Akechi froze. The people around them were staring, indeed; all eyes on the pompous and charming Detective Prince losing his cool. On the floor. With a civilian. With his gun out.
His cheeks reddened and he clenched his fists tightly to keep his emotions in check.
“I apologize. You scared me suddenly, but that was rather rude of me,” he said smoothly, helping Hamamura up. He sprung to his feet gracefully, slipping his headphones half-on. “May I escort you outside for the trouble?”
Now that was the Goro Akechi people knew and loved. The stares grew sappy and the whispers melted into chatter, shoes clicking farther away from the scene, murmurs of his politeness to even delinquents reaching his ears.
Thankfully, Yosuke Hamamura, as in the papers, was quick enough to get them a good ways away from the office before Akechi yanked him into the nearest alleyway and fumbled for his pistol.
“Really? Second times a charm, huh?” Yosuke sighed. “Look, Goro Akechi, or Goro Shido, or whatever—”
The very verbalization of Shido’s name affixed to his had him sprinting forward, an animalistic rage fueling him as he grabbed Hamamura’s collar and slammed him into the brick wall. The rats squeaked and fled, spare bits of trash flying up in their wake.
“Don’t you dare,” he hissed, words cold as ice. “Never, never say that again.”
“Woah,” Yosuke said, eyes wide. “Uh. Sorry. I won’t.”
He shoved Yosuke back against the wall one last time before letting go with enough force to wrinkle the orange fabric. Yosuke rubbed the back of his neck, eyeing the pistol still pointed squarely at his stomach.
“You text like my grandma.”
Akechi nearly pulled the trigger.
“You came here to critique my texting style?”
“No! No, look…uh, I want to make a deal.”
Akechi lowered his weapon, thoroughly confused. His urges to shoot were ramping up by the second.
“Look,” Yosuke said in a rush, “We sorta-kinda found out you were working for him. Uh, not so good news. That’s why you have that freaky signature Persona. Your desires are a little weird.”
Akechi didn’t respond. Yosuke’s eyes widened, as if this was going well.
“Right. So, right now, we could hypothetically go tell the Phantom Thieves your plan. Or anyone, right? Even if you kill me, it doesn’t matter.”
Yosuke smirked like he had won something. Akechi, heart sinking, predicted the opposite.
“The entire Investigation Team knows, too.”
Yosuke paused, glancing at him. His eyes glowed with childish, childish pride, the same sort of comeuppance that Akechi loved delivering. It felt empty.
He closed his eyes.
“Do you realize what you’ve just done?”
Yosuke blinked. “Huh?”
“You’ve put a target on your head. All of your heads.” His voice was smooth. He didn’t let it shake. “I have no further reason to keep any of you alive.”
“W-wait!” Yosuke said, leaning forward. “We haven’t gotten to the deal portion of it yet.”
Akechi glared at him. “You truly have a death wish.”
“I came here thinking, wow, this kid’s probably Shido’s little goon or something, but judging by your reaction earlier, you’re not the fondest of the old man, huh? My point is that your connection to Shido is easily found online. From there…well, I don’t know exactly what Shido’s up to, but I’m assuming that’s something you don’t want.”
Akechi stilled. “What do you mean?”
Yosuke rubbed the back of his neck. “Naoto found the info through government servers. Not only will Shido be able to access that info if he wants it, but any hacker worth their salt can.”
He paused, trying to discern something from Akechi’s expression.
“You…understand what I’m saying, right?”
This…this is a massive liability. If Shido finds out I’m his son…no, if anyone finds out I’m Shido’s son, the Detective Prince will be over. All of this will be over.
“Why are you telling me this?” he croaked.
Yosuke’s voice softened imperceptibly. “I’m telling you because Naoto can erase your information from the database. Any genetic testing, any connection between you and Shido. Everything will be gone. The entire Investigation Team will promise to forget about this little excursion. Besides, after we erase all of it, we would just look crazy if we tried to tell people you were related to the guy.”
Akechi narrowed his eyes. “And why should I trust you?”
Yosuke shrugged. “You don’t have to. But the Phantom Thieves have a hacker on their side now. It won’t be long until this comes out.”
Akechi dug his nails into his palms. Sure, if Naoto’s band of goons made good on their promise, Sakura would never be able to discover this. Additionally, this…bit of information being used against him was certainly concerning. With the removal of it, nobody could access it.
He was also aware of the sheer prowess of Sakura’s skills. She could easily dig this up on him, should he ever fall into their line of view.
If he adhered to Shido’s plan, he would certainly come under their scrutiny.
Still…
“A deal is two-sided. What do you wish from me in exchange?”
“So you agree?”
“Perhaps.”
At that, Yosuke slumped, blowing out a long exhale.
“Yu’s little sister has been dying to meet you.”
Akechi stared at him, rebooting.
“Well, not you,” Yosuke clarified, waving his hands furiously in front of him. “The Detective Prince.”
Akechi allowed himself precisely two milliseconds to hate his life before responding. How is it that I’ve found myself surrounded by a bunch of incompetent, foolish dunderheads?
“You…” his voice was weaker than he wanted. “You came all this way to blackmail me to ‘hang out’ with your sister?”
“Yu’s sister,” Yosuke corrected. “But yeah. Look, Yu and I just started dating, and Nanako and I have been close, you know, but like…she still doesn’t fully trust me with her big bro, which makes sense, you know, given the—”
“I don’t care,” Akechi interrupted.
“...Right. So—”
Akechi sighed and let Yosuke drone on. At the end of his rambling, he had gathered perhaps two notable bits of information: only Yosuke knew about this “meetup” as an aspect of his 12-step-plan to make their relationship stronger, and this Nanako character was a child, around the age of ten, who lived in Inaba and apparently had a fascination with the supermarket branch Junes. This did endow him with the information that Narukami would most likely be unaware of the endeavor. Still, the question remained. Well, two questions.
He held up a hand, pausing Yosuke from spilling the rest of Kanji and Naoto’s relationship woes. “Why don’t you tell the others?”
“That defeats the point of the surprise, right?”
“Am I really that trustworthy?”
“Not at all.”
Akechi blinked at the strange answer but didn’t press.
“Second. Why do this for me?”
Yosuke grinned. “Nanako really wants to meet you, man.”
“In exchange, you’re covering up my true identity and going directly against the Phantom Thieves, who I thought you were ‘best buddies’ with just a couple days ago. Not only that, but you have no idea the true scope of who I could be.”
Yosuke eyed him critically, his face shifting to an unsettling blankness.
“You’re smarter than I took you for, Princey. Let’s say that’s a bit of information I’ll hold onto until we’re done with our deal, right?”
Akechi made a face and Yosuke barked out a laugh.
“Man, you’re so pissy. Sometimes I forget you’re seventeen. Come on.”
He walked out of the alleyway briskly and Akechi followed a beat behind, stumbling to catch up.
“You can’t mean now?”
“When else?” Yosuke said breezily. “Do you have anything for the rest of the day?”
He hated the fact that he didn’t. He had caused a long enough diversion with Sae, had called out sick with Shido, and had no plans for TV appearances or any sort of tomfoolery. Except…
“I’m supposed to go to the aquarium with a friend today,” he said smoothly, finally able to keep pace now they were in the busy streets. He could hear individuals whispering about him, and he subconsciously adjusted the section of hair Sae had been staring at.
“We’ll be back before nighttime, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
He gritted his teeth. “I also look rather disheveled right now. If you don’t mind…”
Yosuke glanced him up and down, eyes lingering on the bruises on his wrists. He frowned.
“You really do have to be more careful when we’re, you know, in our special spot.”
Akechi was positive he had heard a gasp at that in the surrounding crowd. He walked faster, grabbing Yosuke’s shoulder and squeezing as he threw a smile back in that direction.
“Don’t bring anything like that up here,” he growled once they were clear. “And our special spot? Really?”
Yosuke winced. “Yeah, on second thought, it does sound like I’m a creep.”
Akechi counted to five internally as Yosuke slung an arm around his shoulders and dragged them towards the station. The crisp autumn winds blew his straightened hair all over his face, making him sputter and paw helplessly at the strands. Thankfully, Yosuke’s steady pace had them behind the turnstiles quickly, allowing him time to recover underneath the fluorescent subway lights. He brushed his hair back with a hand and scowled at Yosuke. Yosuke, on the other hand, looked perfectly unperturbed.
“So, you coming?”
Akechi exhaled. “I will accept. On one condition.”
“What’s that?”
“We stop by a mirror so I can sort my appearance.”
Yosuke chuckled. “They should be calling you Detective Princess.”
***
The train to Inaba was shorter than he had expected, but pleasant nonetheless. After a great bit of bluster, Yosuke had paid for both train tickets and even bought Akechi taiyaki for the ride.
He set his phone down where he had been sending a text to Shido about his whereabouts, and rested his head on his knees. The afternoon sun was high and bright, light skimming across the milky sky. The stumpy trees blurred into autumnal fog. The occasional lake passed by, hazy in its foresty green reflection of the mountains that loomed above it, where the first bits of the coming snow began to spiral down from. Akechi had forgotten the last time he had ever strayed outside of Shido’s radius to this extent. It felt odd.
He sighed, glad that they had a relatively secluded section. Not many passengers headed to the countryside at three in the afternoon. The soft rumbling of the train was almost enough to dull his senses, but he stayed alert and ready. He wasn’t sure how much he could trust Yosuke.
He had conked out a while ago, legs splayed messily across the aisle, orange hair matted against his face. He let out a soft snore every once in a while. If Akechi strained his ears, he could hear the tinny beats of Tame Impala through the poorly manufactured discs he called headphones, still snug around his ears. An hour ago, Akechi had taken the opportunity to snoop through his phone.
He had gathered various bits of information about the other members of the Investigation Team. While Yosuke and Amagi both remained in university, studying cognitive science and administration respectively, Tatsumi remained in his final year of high school. All of them seemed to be occasional consultants in Shirogane’s detective firm. Rise, as expected, was continuing her idol career. What was most notable was the absence of information regarding jobs for both Narukami and the bear called Teddie. The bear made sense, but Narukami…
He frowned, looking over their information again. They were looking into cognitive pscience, but on a different level than Akechi was familiar with. Just who were these people?
Narukami was too comfortable sending thousands of photos of stray cats. More notably, he had sent a message asking when Akechi would be coming by.
Yosuke had lied. Narukami knows about this plan.
The others were in the dark. Still, he was unsure why he wasn’t allowed to know Narukami would be helping.
He had decided to stop poking around after Yosuke had yawned and instead focused on fixing his appearance by slipping to the tiny bathroom inside the train. His hair was a mess, but he was able to rake through it with his fingers enough to make it moderately presentable. Luckily, he had slipped some touch-up products in his pocket before leaving to keep appearances up. He carefully dabbed at his dark circles and patted down the bruises, wincing. It looked a little unnatural. He blew out a breath.
For some reason, he couldn’t get his thoughts to stop whirling. He gripped the edges of the sink hard, glaring at his reflection. The bags underneath his reddened eyes were all too visible. He pinched his cheeks.
He was meeting a grade-schooler and working himself into a panic.
“Detective Prince. Detective Prince. Detective Prince.”
“Detective Prince!” Yosuke chimed in behind him.
Akechi whirled around, yelping very uncharacteristically and slamming the bathroom door shut with a screech. He abruptly changed his mind and grabbed Yosuke’s collar, dragging him in and slamming the door shut again. He rounded on him, snatching up the front of his stupid orange shirt.
“What is with you and peeping on high schoolers?” Akechi growled.
“Okay, woah, phrasing.”
“Two rules if I agree to go on this miserable excursion with you. One.”
He stabbed his finger into Yosuke’s front and slid forward.
“You leave me alone. I’ll entertain the kid for twenty minutes and leave. I want to see those records disappear.”
He inched closer, baring his teeth.
“Two. Personal space. Don’t ask me any questions about anything. This is purely a business exchange.”
Yosuke frowned up at him. Up close, Akechi could see the slight smattering of freckles across his nose, which was scrunched rather annoyingly. He searched his features briefly for any side of acquiescence to his deal.
“If you’re going for a kiss, I hope you know I’m taken.”
Akechi jumped back, now convinced his face was bright red.
“When did I ever—”
“Relax. Geez, you’re so stuck up. You remind me of me.”
I’m going to rip him apart into pieces. Hopefully the TV World is still active in Inaba. When I get a chance, I’ll go in, summon Loki, then…
The train slowed to a stop and his thoughts cut off as he staggered backwards. Yosuke glanced over his shoulder.
“Alright, kid. Let’s get going.”
He froze halfway out the door. “Wait. Actually, wait, like, two minutes before coming out. Two guys in a bathroom together might not be the best look for your image.”
Akechi growled, hating it was a valid concern.
***
The crisp countryside air stung his nose as he stepped out onto the quaint platform. Elderly couples chatted near the ticket gates while high school students wandered home in lazy groups, their Yasogami High uniforms half untucked. Mountains framed the town in every direction, a thick fog whirling around their tips. It felt slower, like the whole town had been dipped in molasses.
Yosuke shoved his hands in his pockets. “What do you think?”
He sounded genuine. Akechi wrinkled his nose. “Rule two, Hamamura.”
“Okay, first of all, that wasn’t even close to a personal question,” Yosuke scoffed. Akechi followed him absently, glancing around and scanning the unfamiliar surroundings. “Second of all, that’s Senpai to you.”
“Rule one,” Akechi sighed. “No bothering me.”
He clenched and unclenched his fists a couple times. He could feel Loki and Robin Hood stirring in the back of his mind, a little more present than usual. They passed a TV screen and he stared into it with curiosity. He had seen mentions of the TV World in Narukami’s messages with Yosuke. Perhaps that was similar to Mementos.
“The TV’s haven’t been active recently,” Yosuke’s voice was careful. “Any idea why?”
Akechi shrugged. “No.”
Yosuke hummed noncommittally and picked up the pace. Akechi followed him, weaving through the streets with his briefcase clutched tightly to his chest. A couple of old grandmas tittered at him and he flashed them a smile. Large telephone wires strung themselves to poles over the hazy Shopping District, birds fluttering around them anxiously. The shops all appeared in various states of worn-down, illuminated by halos of gold in the thick afternoon sun. The cracked lower windows reflected the beams of sunlight into fractures, dappling the cobbled pavement. The faint scent of sakura hit his nose. Akechi took a deep breath.
Yosuke turned them into a residential neighborhood and Akechi paused.
“I thought we were going to the police station.”
“A deal is two-sided,” Yosuke imitated him horribly. “Twenty minutes with Nanako. That was the deal.”
Akechi frowned but nodded.
“The gun, please.”
“Huh?”
Yosuke’s expression was serious. “Give me your gun.”
Akechi hesitated. He didn’t feel comfortable without it, in a rural town, surrounded by potential enemies.
Still. I need them to delete those records.
For as much as I hate it, my only option here is to cooperate and negotiate.
He straightened his expression and nodded as if he had been expecting it. He carefully took out the bullets, slipping them into his pocket, before handing it over to Yosuke. Yosuke flipped it over a couple times, inspecting the silver barrel and the silencer attached to it. The silence grew uneasy. By the expression on Yosuke’s face, Akechi felt the same question rise to the forefront of his mind.
Why don’t they trust me with my gun but trust me with Narukami’s sister?
He needed to stay on guard. Something is wrong…
“Three rules,” Yosuke interrupted him, catching his shoulder. Akechi glanced at him.
“One. Do not leave the house under any circumstances. If you need something, text me and I’ll help you out. Two. Don’t give her any sugar, she gets really hyper and moody. Three. This is the most important one. Do NOT make her cry. If you make her cry, Yu will obliterate the entirety of Japan and most likely trap you in your own personal hell. Deal?”
He stuck out his hand. Akechi sighed heavily and shook it.
“A deal is a deal,” he said bluntly.
“A deal is a deal,” Yosuke mirrored. For a second, Akechi could see hints of the dangerous Persona user he claimed to be. Then, it slipped away as he gave him a dorky grin.
“Good luck, Princey.”
He spun on his heel and retreated. Akechi rolled his eyes and stared at the door. It was a quaint establishment, with a little vegetable garden outside (decently maintained) and a ruddy motorcycle (less maintained). He took a deep breath before twisting the doorknob.
Immediately, he was greeted with the scent of something awful. He choked instantly, scrambling backwards and fanning the door like a madman to get the stink to disperse. Is this some sort of biological weapon?
“Yosuke?” someone voiced out. Akechi blinked his eyes a few times. “Oh! Goro-san?”
Goro-san, Akechi’s mind repeated incredulously as a small girl hurtled towards him. He barely managed to open his arms awkwardly. Thankfully, she didn’t try to hug him.
Her lip wobbled and Akechi’s level of panic shot up to 100.
“Woah, hey, Nanako-chan,” he said quickly, hurrying towards her and closing the door behind him gently. “It’s okay.”
Hamamura’s going to kill me. No, Narukami’s going to disembowel me.
“I…I tried to make you pancakes!” Nanako sniffled. “Yosuke told me they were your favorite but I messed it up because Dad told me to add eel and it didn’t come on well—”
Ah, so that’s why it smells like doom. He sneaked a glance at the mess that was on the stove. How is she allowed alone in the house? Akechi would have been beaten ten times over for even considering doing this.
He bit his lip.
“Well, it’s nice to meet you anyways, Nanako-chan.” He treated her to his million-dollar smile.
She perked up, eyes glittering with hope. “I’ve heard you’re quite the detective yourself.”
“Mmmhmm!” She nodded jerkily. “I have a detective club at school, Goro-san. Ahh, I can’t believe I’m actually meeting you! I see you on TV all the time!”
The “pancakes” behind them made an ominous glorping sound and Akechi cringed.
“Let’s clean up first,” he offered. She glanced up at him, her brown eyes massive and dejected.
“Sorry.”
She looked a bit like a put-out poodle. Her hair was a little frizzy but it had been twisted into twin braids. She had obviously tried to put on something nice, a little green dress and stockings held up with apple clips. He turned toward the kitchen before she could start crying again and carefully rolled his sleeves up. The house was warm, almost uncomfortably so after the cold outside. Family photographs crowded the shelves. Narukami appeared in half of them, younger and serenely staring at the camera. There were pictures of Yosuke too. Chie. Yukiko. Kanji. The whole Investigation Team seemed to have infiltrated every corner of the house.
“Goro-san?” Nanako chirped.
Akira’s voice rang in his head. Go, go, Goro-sannn!
He slapped his cheeks a few times. “Yeah?”
Nanako eyed the “pancakes” and grimaced. “Nevermind.”
Akechi cleaned up the pan dutifully, returning it to the sink. As he did, Nanako talked on the phone, her soft voice tripping over itself in excitement. It reminded him too much of his friends at the foster homes; that slight tinge of uncertainty that nobody would want you around permeated her tone like a fog. All the better for him to make a good impression. The clingy ones stuck hard.
He finally finished cleaning the pan and turned around, some part of his chest settling at the sight of her laughing. When she realized he was finished, she hung up the phone with a squeak.
“Well, Nanako-chan, I’m sorry I didn’t get to introduce myself properly. I’m Goro Akechi,” he said primly, shaking her little hand.
“Nanako Dojima,” she said faux-formally, bringing a genuine laugh out of him. “Ace Detective!”
“Detective, huh?” he asked. She steered him towards the couch and plopped down at the mat in front of the TV, crossing her legs awkwardly. “I’m sure you get a lot of cool cases.”
“Not more than you,” she chirped. “Dad put it on television, the other day, about that hairy guy?”
“Uh…” Akechi tried to recall the case. “Oh, the homicide case, right! That one was…”
His voice died off mid-sentence as he realized that a homicide might not be the best conversation material with a child. Her smile didn’t falter, though, so he continued on.
“Yes, those cases are always difficult to grapple with, especially when dealing with victims. But that’s what makes these cases so nuanced. The individual accused of the crime, is, optimistically, more than the worst thing he’s ever done. It goes back to the common question about the justice system as punitive or rehabilitative, and just how much we value life—”
He cut himself off and glanced at Nanako, who looked politely disinterested. He stumbled through the rest of his explanation.
“Well, the point is, that death shouldn’t be needlessly feared, so to speak. But it definitely shouldn’t be desired. It’s up to servants like us to face it and fight.”
Nanako’s eyes were wide and filled with awe. Akechi felt a rush of superiority overcome him.
I bet Akira isn’t as good with kids.
Nanako blinked. “Are you quoting Featherman?”
The superiority complex fizzled out.
Heat rushed to Akechi’s cheeks. I didn’t even realize.
“My mistake,” he said quickly, averting his gaze from hers. “It’s, ah, well…”
“That’s okay,” she said brightly. “I loveeee Featherman. Feather Hawk is my favorite?”
“Feather Hawk?” Akechi blurted. “He was very rude to Feather Eagle. I always thought Pink Argus would be a better leader.”
Nanako’s expression shifted into something predatory. “Huh? But Pink Argus was the one that hurt Black Condor on the mission!”
“That was an accident,” Akechi replied, his voice heating up. “Argus apologized, and besides, Condor has been through a lot of trauma. His triggers were difficult to pick up for Argus!”
Nanako shook her head vehemently. "But Feather Hawk was always there for Condor. No matter what Condor did!"
"Yes, but Condor was a jerk sometimes, so he deserved getting hurt every once in a while. Argus was actually realistic with him!"
“But Condor and Argus don’t like each other because of that! A leader should be there for everyone.”
“It’s not a leader’s fault if one of their team member is too stuck up to—”
What am I doing?
He shook his head from side to side. Here he was, in a foreign town being blackmailed by superior Persona users, and he was arguing about Featherman. Nanako’s cheeks were pink with righteousness.
“Sorry,” he said slowly.
“That’s okay,” Nanako giggled. “I was having fun. We should watch Featherman later.”
“You have the old Featherman?” he asked curiously, glancing at their beaten TV. She nodded. “All the reruns.”
I’ve been trying everywhere to find a download of the reruns! He clenched his fists. Akechi was nothing if not an opportunist.
“Oh, and I drew some of them too!” Nanako added. She pulled out a yellow folder and presented it to him like an art portfolio. He opened the pages and saw a sketch of Black Condor, mask off and staring into the edge of the paper attractively. He flipped to the next page and she yelped, reaching for his hand. Too late. The next drawing was of him.
He recognized the reference image. It was from one of those photoshoots he had done in those teen newspapers. He didn’t recall his eyes being that big or shiny (or with sparkles in them, but he wrote that off to stylistic choice). He also had a little more musculature than he was depicted as (truly, his arms weren’t that stick-like). He hummed in consideration, tracking the worried movement of her eyes.
“Wow,” he said gently. “This is wonderful, Nanako-chan. You’re quite the artist.”
Her shoulders slumped in relief and the corners of her lips turned up into a satisfied smile. Akechi felt that pang of something again, deeply intrusive, snarled around his ribs.
I wonder if my mother would have had more children. If I would have had a sister.
If he did have a sister, chances were the sister wouldn’t like him very much. Not like Nanako, staring up at him like he hung the moon. Some part of him didn’t want to ruin his image for her.
“How is your family?” he asked cordially, setting the picture down. He folded his trembling hands carefully under his legs.
Nanako’s expression shifted slightly. “My mom is dead. But my dad is alive! He’s at work.”
Oh. He could see the edge in her eyes. Daring him to fight her. Daring him to show sympathy.
She’s tougher than she looks.
"What does your dad do?" he asked, leaning forward.
"He's a detective," she said warmly, her eyes sparkling. "A police detective. He saved me a while ago. He saves a lot of people."
Akechi nodded. "It's a humble job."
"What do your parents do?" Nanako asked innocently.
Akechi thought of explaining that his father was a murderous, lecherous, and corrupt politician, but decided against it.
“My father...well, he's not in the picture. My mother died,” he admitted. "When I was around your age."
She hummed in acknowledgement.
“What was she like?”
He blinked, caught off guard.
“I never remembered my mom,” she explained quietly. “Did you?”
Akechi thought about it for a moment. He did, in fragments. Pieces of her that bled into pieces of him. The pen in his pocket. The knife in the kitchen. The blood on his hands. The revenge he nestled in his heart.
He didn’t respond and she drew back. She didn’t look disappointed.
Akechi fumbled for his watch. All of a sudden, he wanted nothing more to leave.
“Well, Nanako-chan, I’m afraid I have to go. I’m sorry. I bet I would have loved your pancakes.”
“You bet?” she asked innocently. “Are you not eating them?”
“Uh…” He glanced back at the still-smoking plated pancakes.
They moaned as if in pain.
Akechi had the feeling that he would never get his revenge if he consumed them now.
No. I can’t die now. He glanced back at Nanako.
That soft hesitance was back. She strangled her fingers within themselves.
She might cry if I don’t. Then I’m dead either way.
He took a deep breath to calm himself.
Loki. Robin Hood. Protect me.
He felt his Personas waft to the forefront of his mind as he approached the pancakes like they were a Shadow. They bulged in the wrong places and bubbled, almost, on the surface. Corrosive.
Just this, then I leave. This will be the good dead that Goro Akechi performs for the world.
He picked up a fork and positioned himself to strike.
“Goro-san, I made them just for you,” Nanako chirped. “I really hope you enjoy!”
He glanced back at her.
“I will,” he said boldly, and shoved the pancake into his mouth.