Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It had been a while now since Goro had infiltrated Akira Kurusu's life. Everything was going just as he had planned: He had earned his trust. He had even gotten him to open up about his most personal problems, which were as mundane as they were incoherent for Goro's taste. Still, there was something that didn't quite fit into his mental framework...

How was it possible that someone so stupid was the leader of a criminal gang? Looking on the bright side, it wouldn't be difficult to frame him later, but he didn't understand how someone like him, a mere social outcast, had managed to gather a team to follow him in that life-or-death game. Maybe that was it, right? They were all misfits in this cruel world, scum who hadn't found their place and never would, no matter how hard they looked.

He couldn't stop thinking about how much he despised them, sitting in one of the seats of that café, sharing a table with such uninteresting people. For a few weeks now, Kurusu had been insisting he wanted to introduce him to his friends, for reasons Goro himself didn't know. When he asked, the brat in glasses simply laughed as if he were embarrassed.

"What a pain," he thought to himself that day before nodding with one of his perfect, believable fake smiles. He had perfected them so much that sometimes even he was fooled when he saw himself in the media, answering absurd questions that gave him nothing but a migraine.

“Are you okay, Detective?” Akira asked, interested in the thoughts of the young man sitting beside him, staring blankly and paying no attention to the conversation happening around him.

“Oh, I was a bit distracted. Just tired, I guess,” Goro said, plastering one of those well-practiced smiles onto his face. “What were you talking about? Please excuse my rudeness.”

It went without saying that most of the group was not particularly happy with the presence of Akira's new "friend". However, they acted like a normal group in front of him to avoid suspicion.

“We were talking about celebrating the end of exams all together here at Leblanc,” Ryuji said, always reluctant when speaking to him.

“I’m sure you’re too busy to come, with all the work your new case is giving you and your own exams. What a shame...” Futaba said, unable to modulate her words to keep from sounding aggressive.

Goro feigned a certain disappointment hearing how the rest were practically telling him "we don't want you to come" to his face, though the reality was he didn't want to spend any more time than necessary with them. The only one he found remotely interesting was Akira, because at least he competed with him in whatever nonsense Goro could think of, fulfilling his need to constantly prove he was better than him.

“The truth is, it’s a rather bad time for me, yes...” he murmured, still smiling.

“I’d like you to come,” Akira replied directly, causing his friends to frown in confusion. “Is it really impossible? Think about it. It’ll be fun.”

Ann gave Akira a subtle kick under the table, not understanding what was happening. It was one thing to pretend they were friends, but another to invite him to every plan the group organized. This way, it would be impossible to make progress with their "vigilante" tasks.

“I'll think about it,” Goro lied professionally. “Thanks for including me, Kurusu. You're a good friend.”

He felt his stomach churn as he said that sentence. He didn't need friends, especially not ones like them, so pathetic and uninteresting. They were barely capable of following a reasonably simple conversation, much less were they up to the task of entertaining someone like him.

The afternoon progressed as it usually did. They talked about classes, about how sick they were of studying, and Mona made completely unnecessary comments toward Ann that Goro had to pretend not to hear, no matter how much it disgusted him to see that 'thing' desperately try to flirt with her.

He had never needed to grovel after anyone, nor would he ever. He had girls all over him, even the occasional guy strangely interested in him... The perks of being famous, or so anyone else would think. He clearly had no interest in any of that. He dedicated himself to rejecting the advances of anyone who approached, politely and courteously, excusing himself by saying he didn't have time for that right now, when the reality was that the mere thought of entering such a close relationship with someone filled him with disgust.

The closer the relationship, the more likely that person would become an obstacle to his plan. He would have time for a normal life when this was all over. Until then, this was his normal.

When the absurd group hangout—organized mainly to waste time in the middle of exams—ended, they all said their affectionate goodbyes to each other, although it was obvious the affection was more than faked when directed at him.

The last one to say goodbye was Akira.

“Are you really not going to be able to come celebrate the end of exams?” he asked, giving a light kick to a stone on the ground as if he didn't want to make eye contact.

“I have so much work. I rarely get a day off to relax... You know if I could, I’d join in a heartbeat,” he lied, again.

“Take a night off, Detective. If you don't rest, you won't perform well at work,” Akira insisted with a lopsided smile that made Goro feel rage, though he couldn't show it.

“I'll try to come if you insist... It had better be a fun night after you practically forced me to accept,” he said, forcing a laugh that anyone would have thought was genuine.

“See you in a few weeks, then,” Kurusu nodded, apparently excited. “Good luck with your exams... Oh, and good luck with the case, too.” As he said that, the boy smiled with an arrogance that was impossible to ignore.

Before Goro could reply, the other boy had already headed back into the café.

What was that about? Was he silently challenging him?

"Damn you, Kurusu. I hate you more every day..." he thought, heading for the subway that would take him to the residential area where his lonely apartment was located.

Once in his "home," he could finally rest from being a fake. The smile vanished from his face as soon as he walked through the door, and his upright posture changed to a much less elegant, tired one. He was exhausted. No one could imagine the weight he carried on his shoulders daily. One false step and he could end up dead or, worse, fail his plan after so many years of suffering to get where he was. He could almost smell the finish line from where he stood; he couldn't afford a single mistake.

As soon as he collapsed onto the bed, his phone started to ring. He stared at the screen for a few seconds without answering.

Shido

He sighed, reluctant to start pretending again, but he had to answer. And so he did. After a rather short conversation, he hung up the phone before sighing again with exhaustion.

“One more day is one day less...” he repeated to himself to motivate himself to open that app on his phone, the one that would take him once more on a life-or-death mission without anyone losing sleep worrying about his well-being.

Just as he was about to tap the phone's screen, he saw a message come in.

Kurusu: "Hope you got home safe. Remember our plan, in two weeks at Leblanc at 21:00"

He read it and, for a fleeting second, he was glad that someone showed a minimum of concern for his well-being. But just as that thought arose, he forced himself to bury it in the deepest part of his mind. Kurusu was the enemy. What did it matter what he thought? He was going to have to finish him off at some point in the mission anyway. He couldn't get attached to him as if he were some stray dog.

He tapped the icon of that app, without hesitating another second, wanting to get "the day's task" over with so he could go to sleep. He was sick of Shido, of his problems, and of having to solve everything himself.

He couldn't stop thinking about the day it would all finally be over.

Chapter Text

The days continued with a semblance of normality, if such a thing even existed in the Detective's life. During exam season, he focused more on his studies than his work, though he couldn't neglect it entirely—he had to maintain a certain standard for his public.

Class days were juggled with interviews, and afternoons in the library were followed by working late at the police station or making progress on his errands for Shido. It wasn't the healthiest routine, to be sure, but it was the only way he could get everything done that he'd planned for the day. It would only be a few weeks until the exams were over—ending, as always, with top honors in his name to adorn his spotless record.

After his last exam, he had an interview scheduled with a well-known television network that had been keeping a close eye on him for some time.

"First of all, thank you for agreeing to an interview with us. We've been dying to have you on our set," said a woman whose name he had already forgotten, starting the interview.

"It's a pleasure to be here. I apologize for not accepting sooner; with so much work and being right in the middle of exams, it's difficult to juggle much else," he said, ever-smiling and elegant.

"So, what can the famous 'Detective Prince' tell us? It must be difficult to live up to so many expectations every day."

"You eventually get used to this pace of life. Besides, when you're passionate about everything you do, it's not hard to dedicate so much time to it." He sounded like a pathological liar at this point in his life.

As always, the interview focused more on the case he was investigating than on his personal life, as he always made it very clear from the start that he wouldn't answer overly personal questions, using the excuse that "he was just a high school student, he didn't really have much to tell." However, that day, the questions took a slightly different turn as their airtime began to run out.

"Well, we can't finish without listening to our audience and asking something many of your admirers are dying to know: Is there anyone special occupying the Detective Prince's thoughts? Or do you still not have time for that sort of thing?" the interviewer asked, emphasizing the excuse he always gave for not being in a relationship.

"It's hard to find free time with the life I lead. The day I finish my studies, all the effort will have been worth it, but in the meantime, it's more of the same," he laughed, with a hint of nervousness, trying to hide the annoyance the question had caused him.

"Are you aware there's an online forum called 'I want to be the Detective Prince's girlfriend' that's getting more subscribers every day?" the woman pressed on, smiling, clearly proud of bringing up such an uncomfortable topic.

He frowned for a second, his facade slipping, but he quickly disguised it with a completely faked, embarrassed smile.

"I had no idea about that, honestly," he laughed innocently.

"Many women post on this forum about what they'd like to do for you, you know?" The woman pulled out a tablet with the forum already open. "Here, one girl describes how she would be the perfect wife, waiting with dinner ready when you got home, and would be docile and obedient. Another girl describes, quite explicitly and lewdly, what she would do to you in private... since we're on air, I can't read you that comment..."

Akechi was starting to feel genuinely uncomfortable.

Who did all these people think they were? Why was every word directed at him filling him with such disgust? They spoke as if they believed all he needed to be happy was a good wife who would obey his every word and cater to his whims.

"There are even a few comments from men who say they didn't consider themselves homosexual before seeing you, but that they'd make an exception for you."

That's enough.

"Wow, I honestly didn't expect to have so many people interested in getting to know me..." he said, with an innocent smile, feigning embarrassment. "I appreciate each and every word from my surprising 'fan club.' I wish I had time to meet all of you, but right now, it's impossible for me to dedicate any time to leisure," he said, looking directly at the camera as if speaking to them, putting on that angelic face the press adored.

"Although not all the comments are good..." the woman added, saving the 'best' for last. Goro looked at her, tilting his head with a baffled, innocent expression. "There's one comment here that has generated a lot of controversy. Would you like to read it aloud?"

The young woman handed him the tablet, and he read the comment without fear. He had faced online hate hundreds of times; this wasn't going to surprise him.

If you only knew him like I do, you wouldn't be so interested. Everything you see is fake. There's nothing but falsehood in every word he says, in every gesture he makes... Save your admiration for someone who's actually worth it.

"This person claims to know you."

He frowned, not understanding who could have written something like that. Given it was an anonymous comment online, it was probably just a fabrication, but…

"Fame has its good and bad sides, and one of the bad sides is that you can't please everyone," he said, handing the tablet back to the woman and turning to the camera again. "I don't know who you are, but if I've ever given you a bad impression, I owe you my sincerest apologies. I try to be pleasant to everyone, but I'm human too. I hope these apologies reach the right person."

As always, he knew how to get out of these awkward situations gracefully and unfazed, because he knew what the public wanted. To them, he was perfect. He didn't have a single bad side; he was pleasant, polite, handsome... In short, the man everyone either wanted to be or aspired to be with.

With a simple, formal, and polite farewell, he left the television set, applauded by the crowd, hearing them shout praises about how incredible he was. He went to his dressing room to get his briefcase and jacket and leaned against the table, thinking about that anonymous comment.

Why did he have the feeling it was more important than he wanted to believe? It's not as if many people interacted with him—at least, not enough to claim they knew him. He shook his head, sighing, convincing himself that the stress weighing on his shoulders was starting to make him paranoid.

He left the building, waving and smiling at the paparazzi who wouldn't stop taking pictures, making sure to put on a friendly and attractive expression from every angle until he got into his car. He started the engine to head to his apartment, longing to get there and rest, but halfway there, he received a message that reminded him he still had one more thing to do.

Kurusu: Don't forget the plan for today. See you later, Detective!

"Shit," he muttered to himself, tossing the phone onto the passenger seat in annoyance. He had forgotten about the stupid celebration with Kurusu's friends.

He turned the car around, heading automatically toward the district where Leblanc was. He could have said no; he could have just ignored the message and said he fell asleep the next day. A thousand excuses ran through his mind as he walked from the parking spot, but without knowing why, he was standing in front of the door before the agreed-upon time.

Akira had said 9:00 PM. It was just past 7:00 PM. What the hell was he doing there so early?

He decided to take a walk around the neighborhood and bought some snacks to bring from a nearby shop. You could tell the place was home to humble, working-class people, unlike the residential area where he lived. It didn't surprise him, given the general lack of elegance in the atmosphere. A few admirers asked him for a photo, and he agreed with a smile before turning away with a jaded, tired expression. He was sick of walking in circles through the depressing streets surrounding Leblanc, so he decided to go into the café and order a coffee while Akira finished his shift.

Sojiro was there too, preparing his immaculate coffee while Kurusu cooked his famous curry, probably for that night's dinner.

"A pleasure to see you again, Detective. The usual?" Sojiro asked while cleaning a glass. At the word "detective," Kurusu glanced quickly toward the seat where he always used to sit.

"Good evening, Sojiro. Yes, the usual. I really need one of your coffees today," he replied, with a smile that showed his exhaustion despite his attempts to hide it. He was an expert at faking emotions, but physical reactions were almost impossible to control, at least not completely.

A few minutes later, as Goro was drinking his coffee, Akira walked over to his side of the bar and leaned an elbow on it.

"I see you came... and early, too."

"I finished my obligations sooner than expected and figured I was in the area," he lied, not putting much effort into it, which made the black-haired boy laugh.

"You wanted to see me that badly?" Kurusu asked before attending to Sojiro's demands, leaving Goro speechless.

What did he mean, eager to see him? Him? He had only come because he had insisted, and because he had to pretend he enjoyed spending time with him... Although, that meant he was doing a good job faking it, right? Akira Kurusu actually thought he was interested in maintaining this insubstantial friendship. That didn't make it any more pleasant to hear, though.

“How disgusting”, he thought, focusing back on his coffee in silence.

The minutes passed, and, little by little, everyone else arrived, filling the café with voices and good cheer that he felt completely disconnected from. But he played his part, listening to them all chatter happily about their mediocre, barely passing grades—except for Makoto, who was the only one in the group who didn't seem like an idiot and had an eye on the future.

Just as he'd assumed, Akira invited them all to eat his curry, a signature dish that had improved enough to be edible. He ate, smiling, thanking the cook for his hospitality and pretending to follow the others' conversations. Every so often, he would make a comment about what they were discussing so they wouldn't notice how tuned out he really was, all while continuing to check the clock, hoping the hours would pass faster.

It was already the fifth time he'd glanced at his watch when Akira, who was sitting next to him, spoke.

"Are you bored?" he asked in a tone low enough for only him to hear over the din of the others.

"Not at all," he replied quickly with a smile.

"They'll be leaving soon. If you're up for it, we could do something, just the two of us, afterward."

"What?"

"Akira! Tell Yusuke he can't just go around offering to paint girls if they get naked for him! This guy is driving me crazy!" Ann interrupted them, sparking a lively argument—though one with no real malice—about why their artist friend's methods weren't exactly appropriate.

Goro's mind, however, kept turning over Akira's words. What did he have planned for him at this hour? It was already almost eleven at night; there wasn't much to do.

By the time he realized it, everyone was starting to clear their dishes to take to the kitchen and saying their goodbyes. He said goodbye to everyone and then leaned against the bar, waiting curiously for the new plan Akira would propose.

Ann noticed that everyone was leaving except for him and went into the kitchen to talk to Akira. They were whispering, so Goro couldn't hear what they were saying, but based on the girl's gestures, she seemed annoyed about something. He saw her sigh and come back out of the kitchen, smiling again.

"Have fun, you two," she said to Goro. He nodded, not understanding the blonde's change in mood, though he didn't think too much about what was behind it.

He noticed Kurusu was taking a while to come out, so he went into the kitchen, offering to help with the remaining dishes.

"You dry the clean ones while I wash what's left," the black-haired boy suggested with a grateful smile.

Goro nodded and did exactly that, in complete silence, unsure of what to say now that they were alone. After finishing cleaning up, Akira sighed and leaned against the refrigerator on the side, feeling the cool air seep through his thin white t-shirt.

"So, what do you want to do? Want to play a game? I have my console upstairs. We can see who beats who this time."

Goro tilted his head, trying to understand his intentions. His intuition told him there was something more behind that invitation.

"Of course. I always have time to beat you," he replied, with a proud smile that made the other laugh.

Despite his intuition, he couldn't refuse another duel between them. There was nothing more energizing than a small test against his mortal enemy to prove, once again, that he was better than Kurusu. He couldn't help but feel the adrenaline rush through his body in every bet between them, and in those moments, he felt alive.

A rather strange feeling for the Detective.

Chapter Text

They had stayed up late playing video games more than once, so as soon as they went up to the attic Akira used as a room, Goro grabbed some chairs to place in front of the television while the other boy set up the console cables to start another little battle, complete with their usual bet.

Normally, they bet on mundane things: "Loser pays for lunch tomorrow," or "Loser does the dinner dishes." In reality, they competed more for the thrill of it than for any reward; however, Kurusu had something different in mind this time.

"Let's make it more interesting this time."

"More interesting?" Goro asked, already wearing a winning smile even though they hadn't even turned the console on.

"We'll play a round of five matches. Every time one of us loses, they have to say something the other doesn't know. Whoever makes the fewest confessions wins."

This threw the Detective off, making him frown with suspicion.

"Why would that make it more interesting? It's not like I care which girl you're going to ask out for Valentine's Day, Kurusu," he replied with the most bitter sarcasm he could muster.

"What's the matter? Is the 'Detective Prince' afraid I'll discover something embarrassing about him? What is it? Are you married to a seventy-year-old sugar daddy, and that's why you're so rich?" he joked, getting on the other's nerves.

"What the hell are you talking about, you idiot? I don't have any secrets, and certainly not one that disgusting. If I have money, it's because I'm working all damn day,"—that had offended him; nothing pissed him off more than having his efforts underestimated.

"Alright, alright, don't get mad already. I haven't even kicked your ass yet," Akira laughed as he started the console, choosing a fairly simple fighting game. "Besides, everyone has secrets... I'm sure you can think of something."

That last sentence had sounded far too intentional to go unnoticed by the Detective. But still, why worry? He could just lie, couldn't he? He didn't need to confess real secrets; he just needed to say the right things to make the enemy leader sympathize with him.

"Fine. We'll play it your way, then. It's not like I'm going to lose to you, anyway."

And so, the all-out battle between them began. They each had their favorite character and knew every last combo, allowing them to face each other effortlessly, just as one would expect from two people who had been the ultimate rivals in practically everything for months.

The first one to lose, to no one's surprise, was Akira.

"Well played..." he said grudgingly, annoyed by the Detective's mocking smile. "A confession... Hmm..." he muttered thoughtfully, wiping his fake glasses on his shirt. "Okay. This is a good one: When Yusuke insists I model for his paintings, I always tell him to paint me more muscular and handsome."

Goro couldn't help but burst out laughing, clutching his stomach as it ached from the sudden, sincere laughter.

"That's just pathetic, Kurusu. You're not fooling anyone."

"I know, but a man can dream, right?" he replied, smiling, his cheeks slightly flushed from having revealed such an embarrassing secret right at the start.

The next match began with Goro still wiping tears of laughter from his eyes and mocking him, saying things like, "Careful, don't hit me too hard. You could kill me with those arms." It was likely that, thanks to all the laughter, his concentration was shot, because he lost the next round.

"You're not laughing so hard now, are you?" his opponent taunted.

Goro pretended to think for a few seconds, putting on a troubled expression to make it seem like he was genuinely worried about confessing something.

"When Niijima calls me before our scheduled time, I always tell her I was studying, when I'm usually taking a nap or reading." That part wasn't a lie, but it wasn't as if it would impact him in any way for the other to know something so stupid.

"Oh, so the most perfect guy in all of Japan procrastinates, too, huh?" Kurusu added with a sideways smile, giving him a small nudge with his shoulder.

"I'm a teenager too, you know. I need to rest to be able to keep up this pace," he played the victim, pretending to be defensive to get a look of compassion from Akira, just as he had a thousand times before. But this time, he didn't get it.

That was strange, given the younger man's empathetic nature, but he decided to ignore it. He probably just wanted to play to learn more secrets. They started the next match in silence, both focused on beating their rival as if their lives depended on it. The next victory went to Goro, again, making Kurusu sigh in frustration.

"I'm starting to regret talking you into this shit..." he muttered, which made the Detective cross his arms and look at him with an air of triumph. "Okay, I've got one. Two months ago, Ann kissed me on the way home from school."

Goro definitely hadn't expected that confession and, without understanding why, knowing it made him angry.

What was this? Was he bragging that a pretty girl had thrown herself at him? What a disgusting guy.

"Wow, that's impressive. I don't know how you managed to fool her, but you have my admiration," he said, his tone sharper than he'd intended.

That tone of voice didn't escape Akira, who smiled, knowing Akechi had just taken the bait.

"I told her that, while I was flattered, I was already seeing someone. Then I tried to convince her to go out with Ryuji, but she got mad at me," he added, laughing innocently. "She didn't speak to me for several days until I apologized. It seems my attempt at matchmaking didn't sit too well with her."

Kurusu was dating someone? Since when? And why did he never talk about her? When did he even see her? He spent almost all his free time with Goro or his friends... It didn't make much sense when he thought about it. He assumed it was just an excuse to reject a girl like Ann, who was completely out of his league, without being judged by the rest of the drooling idiots who would have followed her to Hell itself.

"I wouldn't have been thrilled either if someone tried to set me up with someone like Ryuji. If I were a girl, that is,"—it was necessary to clarify; he didn't want him thinking there was even the slightest possibility he was interested in men, because, obviously, he wasn't. It wasn't just that; he wasn't even interested in women at the moment.

He had much more important things to deal with than some trashy teenage romance.

After the black-haired boy defended his friend with the typical comments someone would make when they know the person isn't exactly a great catch, they continued the game. Goro lost the second-to-last round; a single hit's difference made him see the "K.O." sign on the screen.

"Come on, tell me something juicy. I deserve it after the confessions I've made," Akira encouraged him.

Goro thought for a few seconds. It wasn't that he didn't have secrets to tell, but he didn't need to know them. So this time, he decided to lie.

"There was a girl at my school who caught my eye. We even went on a date, but it didn't lead to anything since I didn't have time for her," he faked sadness, as if it truly pained him to have lost the love of a person he had just invented.

"Oh, what was her name? I didn't know you were interested in relationships. You always say in interviews that you have no plans to be in one right now," Akira frowned, thinking.

"Mizuki Aoyama. She had just arrived in the city and, with no effort, became second in our class. She was very intelligent,"—it wouldn't be believable to say she was first, since that was him, nor would it be believable that he was interested in someone stupid, so he had to at least bother to elaborate on the lie—"also quite shy and elegant. A few months ago, her parents moved to another city, so she transferred schools again. At least I don't have to see her every day; it would a bit awkward..." Goro scratched the back of his neck, faking nervousness and shyness.

Akira looked at him, analyzing him with curiosity. Had the Detective Prince really been interested in a girl whose description made her sound so absurdly common?

He put a hand on his shoulder and nodded, moved.

"I'm sorry, man. I'm sure the right person will come along before you know it," Akira encouraged him, smiling in a friendly way.

When he smiled like that, his eyes crinkled, and adorable little lines formed at the corners, giving him a much more innocent look.

“How disgusting”, Goro thought, though on the outside, he returned his smile with one just as tender and warm.

The last round was approaching, and Goro had no intention of losing again. If he had to fake something sentimental like that one more time, he would burn Leblanc to the ground. They started the match, and before the Detective could even press the first button, Akira opened the game menu and surrendered, leaving the other in shock.

"What the fuck are you doing, Kurusu? You know I hate it when you do that. You take all the fun out of the g—"

"You didn't ask me who I'm dating. Did you think I made it up?"

That left the Detective blank.

"Sorry for respecting your privacy. I just assumed that if nobody knows her, it's because you don't want to talk about her," he lied shamelessly.

"Everyone knows this person. I'm not hiding them," he added, annoyed by the underlying implication in the Detective's sarcastic tone.

"Then I'm the one who doesn't know them, I see. Sorry for misjudging your intentions, Kurusu, but what does that have to do with you surrendering? Did you want to confess who it is? Go ahead, I'm listening. Though you could have done that without killing the mood, you know."

He didn't give a shit who the girl was. Right now, he was only focused on scoring one more victory at Kurusu's expense. Fucking sentimental idiot.

Akira sighed, angry, crossing his arms and legs as he leaned back fully in the wooden chair.

"You have no idea, do you?"

The Detective looked at him, confused, tilting his head slightly.

"The only person I can think of is Makoto. You two spend a lot of time together... although I doubt a girl as brilliant as her would be interested in someone like you—"

The black-haired boy grabbed him by the shirt, bunching it in his fist to pull him closer to his face.

"Think again."

He was too close. Way too close. He could almost feel the other's breath brushing his skin. Goro's eyes widened, and he couldn't stop himself from trying to aggressively shove him away.

"I told you, I have no fucking idea, you asshole! What the hell are you doing, getting so close?!"

Morgana, who had been pretending to sleep on the bed, stretched and feigned cleaning his paws as he spoke.

"We all told you that you were just making this up in your head. This guy can't be trusted, Akira."

Akechi had gotten used to pretending he couldn't hear Morgana's words, but that revelation caught him so off guard that he glanced in his direction for a split second.

"Is he right?" Akira asked, noticing the other's subtle slip-up.

"Who? What are you talking about?" Goro muttered, professionally feigning ignorance of what was happening.

"Don't play dumb, Akechi. I'm sick of your little games." Kurusu wasn't one to lose his patience easily, but the Detective seemed to know every single trick to unhinge him.

"Look, dude, I don't know what you're talking about. I'd better get going. You're acting really weird," he stood up from the chair, ready to grab his things, when Akira stood up to quickly grab him by the waist with one hand, using the other to grab his wrist, stopping him from reaching his bag.

Kurusu was full of surprises today, or so it seemed, because he kept shattering his expectations, one after another.

"What are you...?" he murmured, almost in a whisper.

"There's only one person I spend my free time with alone besides my friends. Only one person I'm actually bothering to get to know and understand, no matter how hard the goddamn idiot makes it," Kurusu said, looking him in the eyes with an overwhelming intensity. "I'll ask you again: can you not think of ANYONE?"

Morgana didn't waste time, climbing out the window saying something like, "I'm out of here. I don't want to see this," but the words were lost on the Detective, who was already having enough trouble processing the fact that Akira was holding him by the waist, invading his personal space like never before.

Wait.

Had he just spoken in the masculine? Was his "girlfriend" actually a guy? He couldn't be referring to him, could he? It made no sense. They hadn't been intimate in the slightest. The closest they'd come was the night they went to the public bathhouse and, in a moment of weakness, he'd told him about his mother's suicide—though without much detail, and he'd mostly done it to make him feel pity so he'd agree to get closer. However, even to the inexperienced Detective, it was obvious from their position that Akira was referring to him.

He decided to play the idiot one more time.

"Kurusu, you're making me uncomfortable," he said, trying to slowly pull away. "I'm sorry if I wasn't paying attention if you ever tried to show me who you were interested in, but—"

He couldn't finish his absurd, false apology because the black-haired boy closed the distance between them in a second, kissing him forcefully, even as Goro struggled to get away.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing!? Let me go, goddammit!" he exclaimed against his lips, pushing him hard until he managed to break free.

He wiped his lips in disgust on his sleeve, looking at him with contempt. His facade had completely vanished, replaced by pure anger.

"I'm not into guys, and I'm definitely not into you! That's so fucking disgusting! Fuck!" he emphasized, wiping his lips several times.

Akira looked at him, completely hurt. He couldn't believe he could have been so wrong. He knew what he'd seen between them, that connection... He clung to that idea as if his life depended on it.

"Are you really going to deny what you feel for me like that?" he asked, his voice barely a whisper, afraid of receiving an answer even more painful than the contempt.

"What I feel for you?" Goro muttered, laughing with even more scorn. "What do I feel for you? Enlighten me with your wisdom, oh, great relationship guru." At that moment, he just wanted to hurt him, to humiliate him, to make him pay for the tremendous embarrassment he was being put through.

Akira took a step back, looking at him with disappointment, and for some reason still unknown to the Detective, that just made him even angrier.

"They were all right..." the younger man whispered, as if he'd just had the revelation he needed.

"About what? About you inventing a relationship with someone who didn't feel the same? Because if that's what you mean, then yes, that's clearly what happened."

Those words from Goro were what made Akira snap. He lunged at him, shoving him hard, trying to control the urge to punch him.

"That you're a fucking liar who just wanted to manipulate me! I know everything, you asshole! Your sudden interest in me when you thought I was the leader of the thieves you're investigating, the way you pretend not to hear Morgana... You're the bastard in the black mask! How could I have been so blind?"

Goro turned pale, stumbling from the push.

"You're losing your mind, Kurusu," he tried to feign, but it was impossible to deny the obvious after the look that had just crossed his face.

"You're still denying it? Seriously? Are you a pathological liar or something?" Akira asked, even more shocked than the Detective himself. "Have you ever told me a single truth?"

That last question hurt, in more ways than one. It was true that Goro sometimes couldn't differentiate between the personality he'd created for the world and who he really was, but... Kurusu knew more about him than anyone else in the world. Yes, he had lied to him a thousand times for the sake of the mission, but he also knew so much about him. Too much, for his liking.

"I guess everything you told me was just a crude lie to get close to me, right? You've always known who I am, and you probably investigated my past. You knew that inventing a tragic backstory about a poor, lonely orphan with no friends would make me feel sorry for you—"

"Don't you ever speak about my life so lightly again, Kurusu, or I'll shoot you right now," Goro threatened, cutting off his monologue with the deepest, most sincere rage.

"Are you really going to tell me the story about the poor little boy who found his mother dead is true? Come on, Akechi, that trick is too cruel, even for you."

And that was the end of the Detective's patience. He threw himself at Kurusu, landing a punch square in his face, breaking his glasses. The boys struggled, trading blows, the sound of the impacts the only thing that could be heard in the empty building.

By the time Akira realized it, he was on the floor, and Goro had him by the throat, squeezing hard, trying to strangle him.

"Do it... If y-you dare, Detective. Let's see h-how you explain to the press... that you murdered an innocent teenager... with your own hands," he choked out, struggling for air, the pressure on his windpipe intense.

Goro squeezed harder, until he saw Akira's eyes practically roll back in his head, just before he passed out. Then, he let go, climbing off him, listening to him cough violently as he clutched his bruised, aching neck.

"The only reason you're not dead is because I still need you alive. Don't forget that, Kurusu, because next time, I won't stop." There was no point in acting anymore. He'd been found out. He had made a grave, fatal error.

He turned, grabbing his bag with restrained fury, and headed downstairs, ready to get out of this goddamn place once and for all. He didn't know what had pissed him off more: Kurusu's attempt to manipulate him for information with a game, the fact that he'd kissed him, or that he'd dared to speak of his mother's death in vain.

This was why he didn't open up to anyone. No one cared who he really was. Everyone preferred the well-rehearsed, immaculate version he had created. No one was interested in the real Goro Akechi.

Sometimes, even he didn't care about him either.

Chapter Text

Days passed, and although Goro's anger hadn't subsided, he found himself starting to overthink that conversation with Akira.

How had he figured out that he was trying to deceive him? No one had ever seen through a single one of his lies, not even Sae—who, though Goro would never admit it, had a keen sense for uncovering people's true intentions.

How long had he known? It couldn't have been for long; otherwise, it wouldn't make sense for him to have let Goro get so close. Perhaps he'd only discovered it recently and hadn't dared to confront him until now.

And besides, why was he so convinced there was something between them? That question weighed on him more than he wanted to admit. As far as he could tell, he had never given him any indication of romantic interest. If that kiss hadn't caught him so off guard, he might have been able to take advantage of Akira's blindness and pretend to feel something until this was all finally over...

Then again, what was stopping him from doing it now?

It wasn't too late. He could always play the card that he was just scared to admit he was gay and Akira would eventually believe him. It wouldn't be that strange, would it? Coming out wasn't easy, and one more lie would create a new opportunity. This new option might even be more useful. Manipulating the boy's feelings in his favor could be a huge help. No emotion makes you do crazier things than love.

He would have to start almost from scratch, but with one obvious advantage: He now knew Kurusu's weak point. And that weak point was him. For some reason he absolutely could not understand.

He got out of bed, ready to begin his new plan. He brushed his teeth, combed his hair decently, and dressed for the occasion in a blue plaid vest over a white shirt, with brown slacks. He remembered Akira mentioning once that he liked how that outfit looked on him. Now that he thought about it, there had been a few comments over that time that should have made him suspect the black-haired boy wasn't as straight as he seemed.

He grumbled under his breath at how stupid he'd been not to realize sooner that his plan was even easier to accomplish than he'd thought.

He left his apartment after putting on some cologne and grabbing his bag with the case files he was halfway through for work; and he headed to Leblanc, just like every Saturday evening, as if nothing had happened.

Upon entering, Sojiro greeted him with the same almost-friendly, paternal manner he used with all of Akira's friends, serving him a coffee with milk and sugar to his liking, just as he always did.

"Is Kurusu not working today?" he asked, feigning simple curiosity.

"He's sick, according to what he told me this morning. Said he had a fever..." Sojiro replied, looking toward the stairs with concern. "Hey, you're his friend. I won't lie to you. I think some girl broke his heart and he's a wreck. Would you check on him? You young people understand each other better. I'm too old for this."

Akechi suppressed the urge to smile victoriously and instead feigned surprise.

"You don't say... Poor Kurusu. Don't worry, I'll get him out of bed. You'll have him serving coffee by this afternoon," he said, with the biggest of smiles.

He finished his coffee and went upstairs, meticulously planning in his head what he was going to say to the idiot. A couple of apologies, maybe a few fake tears, and that should do it. The younger man wasn't exactly cold-hearted; he was much more emotional than Goro, so it wouldn't be hard to get through to him. He had him figured out pretty well.

When he reached the attic, he cleared his throat, letting the black-haired boy know someone was there. Kurusu was lying on the bed, his back to the stairs, hugging his knees to his chest. Morgana was curled up at his feet, watching him with concern.

"Get out!" Morgana exclaimed, almost growling protectively.

"I come in peace. I need to talk to Akira. It's important," he said, raising his hands as a sign of surrender. Besides, it was one of the few times he had said his name aloud.

"Didn't you have enough yesterday?" Kurusu asked, still not looking at him.

Goro walked over to the bed, looking down at him with a look of feigned concern. It was obvious to him that it was faked, and the tight feeling in his chest had nothing to do with guilt. That feeling had to be anxiety over not knowing if the plan would work.

Right?

"Can I sit? I need to talk to you about what happened. There are some things I'd like to explain," the Detective murmured, sitting on the bed without waiting for an answer.

Akira moved away from him, sitting up to press himself as close to the window as possible, still hugging his knees to his chest.

"I don't want to talk. You should just go," Akira muttered, feeling Morgana settle back at his feet, still staring at Akechi as if he wanted to kill him on the spot.

"Would you still want me to leave, even if you knew I came to apologize?" A smile so affable and warm appeared on the older boy's face that Akira immediately paid attention.

"I'm listening..."

"Akira! Have you forgotten he's a manipulator? Don't let him convince you again!" Morgana exclaimed, fed up with his leader's good, but stupid, heart.

"Please, Morgana, it's not a trick. I need to talk to him. In private... It's really important." Goro's cheeks flushed effortlessly. It was strange for him to show weakness, even if it was just an act. He felt stupid.

Akira hesitated for a few seconds before looking at the cat and nodding, silently asking for a little privacy.

"Do whatever you want. But just so you know, he's going to play you again," he said, before slipping out through the crack in the window.

The silence between them became somewhat awkward. Akira looked at Goro with the most absolute disappointment. It was the same face Goro imagined his father had worn upon learning he had a son with a prostitute eighteen years ago.

"Are you going to talk or...?" Akira asked, looking at him, not understanding the long silence.

"Yes, it's just... It's difficult, you know? I have a lot to say, and I don't know where to start." If he showed anxiety, it would be easier for the poor idiot to believe him.

"Why don't you start by telling me your real intentions with me?"

Goro sighed, turning toward Akira, placing one leg on the bed and relaxing his posture to show closeness in his body language.

He even thought of that. He couldn't understand how he'd been found out when he was so meticulous.

"Well... I'll start there," he made a dramatic pause. "The day of the TV interview, I had a fairly obvious suspicion that you had something to do with the Phantom Thieves. Don't ask me why, but the way you and your group of friends talked about them seemed... too personal."

"We told Ryuji not to say anything, but... that's just how he is," Akira muttered with some frustration. He knew that had been the big mistake that had put them on the Detective's radar.

"The truth is, when I spoke to you all afterward, trying to get closer to see if I could find anything, I immediately heard Morgana and knew something was up. Not many people have a talking cat, as you can imagine."

"How have you been to the Metaverse?" Akira asked.

"I'll tell you everything, but be patient... The truth is, that day I decided I would get close to you all, faking friendship to see if I could get evidence against you. However, there's much more to it than that..."

Akira frowned, knowing he wasn't going to like what he was about to find out. Goro, on the other hand, decided to use the truth to his advantage, since he didn't know how much they might have already deduced. If he'd been accused of being the man in the black mask, they must know something.

"As you already know, I'm the son of a woman who committed suicide when I was just entering my teens. That was completely true, but... you don't know what led her to it." He paused, this time because the subject was genuinely hard to swallow. "My father is... an important man. So important that he couldn't afford to let the entire city find out he'd gotten a sex worker pregnant. So I was born an unwanted child, a bastard that not even my own mother really wanted. Still, she did everything she could to raise me, even if it wasn't enough..."

Kurusu watched him, trying to discern if there was any lie in the story, but Goro seemed genuinely affected. His eyes were shining as if he wanted to cry, and the words caught in his throat as if it ached from holding back so much emotion.

"Go on," Akira murmured, intrigued.

"After my mother's suicide, I decided I would get revenge on the person who abandoned us, causing her to make such a drastic decision. I carved out my future, became what I am today by building my name as the 'Detective Prince' to get close to him—who, by the way, doesn't even know who I really am. But everything got even more complicated when that man offered me a part in 'his plan.' That's why I entered the Metaverse for the first time."

"What plan?"

Goro cleared his throat and gave him a look that Akira understood as an unspoken, "Would you mind shutting up?"

"He made me enter the Metaverse to get rid of the people who opposed him, and at the same time, create conflicts that would make him look like the country's savior."

At that moment, Akira realized that Akechi's father wasn't just some ordinary person; "important" was probably an understatement.

"Who is your father?" he asked nervously.

"Masayoshi Shido. He is... my biological father."

Goro's words came out so choked that Akira could taste the hatred and pain it caused him to even say the name. A shocked expression spread across the younger man's face. He knew that name well; everyone did. He was the most important politician in the country and, despite controversial opinions, he was a leader generally beloved by the people. He was also the person responsible for Akira's own trouble.

"How does Shido know about the Metaverse?"

"I only know that he discovered its existence and monopolized that knowledge for his personal use. By the time I became part of his plans, almost all the loose ends were gone, and the government was the only one who knew about it. Until now, of course." He wasn't lying, so it wasn't hard for Kurusu to accept the truth.

Ideas began to connect in the Phantom Thief leader's head. The number of mental shutdowns that had, coincidentally, boosted Shido's popularity due to his 'strong' response; political rivals disappearing; and last but not least, the suspicious suicide of Futaba's mother...

"Did you have anything to do with Wakaba's case?" Akira asked, absolutely terrified of a positive answer.

"She had already been removed from the equation by the time I showed up."

Kurusu analyzed him, watching him intently. He didn't know whether to believe him. Actually, he couldn't, not completely. Not when he noticed how coldly he spoke of a murder as if it were nothing. If he had taken care of the rest of the 'loose ends,' as he called them, why should he believe someone capable of committing a crime in cold blood? It didn't matter if he'd had a hand in Futaba's mother's case or not—though he was grateful he hadn't. Still, that didn't erase the number of innocent lives that had stained his hands.

"I don't know what to think about all this, Goro... I can't understand it, no matter how hard I try."

Akira was just being honest; he couldn't understand him, no matter how hard he tried, and that complicated the Detective's performance.

"I'm not asking you to understand me, just not to judge my actions. I was just a kid when it all started. I never thought I'd have to be a hitman for my own father. I just wanted to prove my worth. I didn't want to have to do any of this..." his voice broke as he spoke, so much so that even he wondered how much truth was in his words.

Was he really that affected by having done all that? He didn't think so. Not entirely. He could sleep soundly as long as he knew his plan was still on track. So why did he sound so convincing? Maybe his acting skills had improved so much that even he believed his own performance.

Akira sighed, running his fingers through his bangs to push them off his forehead. This whole conversation had managed to give him a real fever. He was sweating and hot. His first crush was a government assassin... Not everyone could tell a story like that, one worthy of a dark teen romance.

"And what does all this have to do with me? Why are you telling me the truth right now? I still don't see how admitting you did all those things connects to a possible apology," the younger man, even though he didn't want to, was clinging to the possibility that something might change, that the Detective might actually say something that would turn it all around, no matter how stupid it was.

"Akira," he pronounced his name as if the sound filled his mouth with passion, "the fact is, I do feel something for you. But I didn't dare admit it before because, as you can understand, with a story like that, it's not easy to believe that someone could accept me."

Silence fell in the small attic, which Goro really hadn't expected. He thought the younger man would be eating out of the palm of his hand seconds after he said that. But instead, he was looking at him with distrust. It was convincing, wasn't it? How could a person who had committed all those crimes possibly think they were worthy of a good guy's love? It was perfect. So... why was he looking at him like that?

"Do you think I'm an idiot?" was Akira's reply, his brow furrowed and his eyes filled with anger.

Chapter Text

The Detective paled, his eyes widening at the younger man's reaction. Akira was glaring at him with an expression of pure rage.

"What?" he asked, almost inaudibly.

Akira lunged at him, kneeling on the sinking mattress, and grabbed his vest, clenching the fabric in his fingers as if he wanted to tear it apart.

"How dare you lie to me like this? Are you that fucked in the head? This is a new low, even for you." The deepest, most painful disappointment was reflected on his face, something that undeniably stirred something inside Goro.

Akira was pressing his lips together so tightly in anger that they formed a trembling line on his face; his eyes shone with desperation, as if he wanted to cry right then and there, and his hands were shaking with restrained force.

No matter how hard Akechi tried, he couldn't understand what had just happened. Why was he accusing him of lying? Okay, he had lied about his feelings, but the rest... It was all true. It was impossible for him to have seen even a hint of a lie in his words, because almost all of it was true!

"I haven't lied to you about anything I told you. What are you talking about?" he insisted, still perplexed.

"Can you prove any of what you just said? I just asked for a minimal amount of sincerity, dammit! Are you incapable of even that?" Kurusu was desperate. He couldn't believe Goro would be capable of inventing something like this just to get out of the mess he was in.

An unwanted child? A corrupt and dangerous politician for a father? And the hardest thing to believe: Akechi with those kinds of insecurities!? The black-haired boy couldn't process so much nonsense at once. He was going to get the truth out of him, even if he had to beat it out of him.

"How do you want me to prove it, you idiot? I have nothing that actually links me to Shido! Not even his last name!" The younger man didn't look away, searching for any insincerity in the Detective's voice. "And I can't show you my messages with him, either. He contacts me from different numbers to avoid being traced and always through third parties... Goddammit, Kurusu... You're starting to piss me off." He grabbed Akira's wrists, trying to pull his hands off and force him to let go of his clothes, but Akira didn't back down.

"Do you think that's what I'm most angry about?" His voice, practically trembling with rage, showed he was at his limit.

It was then that it dawned on Goro. What had really pissed him off was believing he was lying about his feelings, wasn't it? To be honest, they were a complete lie. Someone like Akechi would never love someone like Kurusu; he wouldn't settle for so little. The black-haired boy was just a mediocre teenager with few aspirations for the future. The only things he had were a certain charisma and a lot of talent, though it was completely wasted.

"What are you worried about, then? Do you think I'm lying when I say I return your feelings?"

He didn't even let him answer. By the time Akira opened his mouth, ready to argue, Goro had grabbed him by the neck and pulled him in for a kiss.

Time stopped in that very instant, and the younger man's breath hitched, completely frozen. He couldn't understand what was happening, but his hands moved to the Detective's face instinctively, cupping his cheeks to keep from breaking contact. Goro's messy kiss showed a desperate eagerness for a real connection, a need for sincere calm after the storm of lies.

Akechi's heart began to pound, so hard he thought he might have a heart attack right there. He couldn't stop thinking about how disgusted he was by all of this. The black-haired boy's soft, trembling lips against his own, their bodies moving closer and closer...

After a few seconds that felt like hours, they separated. He resisted the urge to wipe his mouth on his forearm, fighting the need to spit out every drop of intermingled saliva that might be left on his lips. Akira, meanwhile, had brought his fingertips to his own lips, as if he were still savoring the forbidden delicacy he had been craving for months.

"Goro...?" he murmured, almost voiceless, still staring at him, perplexed.

"I told you I wasn't lying. This is the only thing I can prove to you. Whether you decide to believe the rest of my story or not... that's your decision. I'm sorry for bothering you, Kurusu."

And with those words, he ended the conversation. He knew this wasn't over, but he was satisfied. He had planted the seed of doubt in Akira's heart, and now all he had to do was wait. He got up from the bed, straightening his clothes in a refined way, and slung his bag over his shoulder before starting to walk toward the stairs.

"By the way... Sojiro is worried about you. He thinks a girl broke your heart..." He sighed as he spoke for added drama, pausing on the top step. "Maybe you should go down and lend him a hand. It wouldn't hurt you to get distracted with work. That's what I plan on doing."

He didn't wait to hear the other boy's reply. He simply went down the stairs with that same fake smile, so the owner would think everything had gone well with Kurusu. He left the café, allowing his mask to drop for a few seconds as he scrubbed his lips with his shirt sleeve, almost as if the taste of the black-haired boy was burning him.

"So fucking disgusting," he muttered, starting his walk to the police station, where he would spend the day resolving whatever bland paperwork they gave him, while his mind wouldn't stop churning over the possible results of that encounter.

Several days had passed since the chaotic and confusing encounter between the two young men, and it was killing Goro inside. He hated feeling like he didn't have control of the situation—to be honest, he'd never felt like he wasn't in control of what was happening around him. He focused on work, on his studies; anything was fine as long as it kept him from thinking about the goddamn Akira Kurusu and that disgusting kiss. He had even accepted several interviews scheduled for that week just so he wouldn't have a single second of free time.

Although the Detective denied it, the memory of the taste of the younger man's lips was something he thought about more than he allowed himself to admit. Life had become much more complicated ever since Kurusu's feelings had gotten in the way of his wonderful, calculated plan.

"Is something wrong, Akechi-kun?" his superior asked, noticing he'd been staring into his coffee for a while, looking like he was pondering an indecipherable puzzle.

"Oh, nothing," he replied automatically, flashing an innocent smile. "I've been worried about my grades lately. I haven't had much time to study with the new case, and you know me... always thinking about everything at once."

The older man smiled with a certain fondness and placed a hand on the young detective's shoulder.

"We all need a break, even you. Maybe you should take a couple of days off and focus on your studies, kid."

"Thank you, Officer, I really appreciate it. But there's nothing I enjoy more than my work. I'll do my best to get everything in order and balance it all. I have no doubt about that," he replied with a smile, even though the hand on his shoulder was about to make him twitch.

As soon as the kind man disappeared from the breakroom, he brushed off his shoulder with disdain, as if the contact had soiled his immaculate work uniform.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the city, Akira was particularly distracted in class. Just like Goro, he hadn't stopped thinking about that day, although his reasons were different, obviously.

He was scribbling nonsense on a blank page in his notebook.

Lies? Definitely.

Distrust? Obviously.

Love? Impossible.

Sincerity? Not a bit.

What was true and what was a lie in everything he'd been told? There were moments in Akechi's story that were too convincing, like the way his eyes shined with sadness when he spoke of his mother, or the rage he showed when he mentioned Shido. He didn't know anyone capable of faking that much emotion, and if that was the case, then he was dealing with a true sociopath. Which, he couldn't rule out.

How was he supposed to proceed from here? He had no idea. The older boy underestimated him; he couldn't doubt that, it was something he'd already noticed. But by how much? Did he really think he was stupid enough to believe a pathological liar and murderer, and throw himself into his arms just because of one kiss?

Akira ground his teeth in frustration, squeezing the pen in his hand until it creaked.

Without realizing it, the bell rang, signaling the end of class, and he was still engrossed, writing down stray thoughts in his notebook.

Shido, biological father.

Suicide.

Murders.

Revenge.

Pain and abandonment.

What’s the real you?

That was the million-dollar question, so he circled it several times with messy strokes.

"Akira? Is everything okay?" Ann asked from behind him, making him jump in surprise and forcing him to slam his notebook shut.

"Yeah, everything... everything's fine..." he replied, still startled and with zero confidence in his voice.

The girl looked at him, frowning, analyzing why her friend might be lying to her. She had a slight suspicion that something had happened that night when they all left him alone with... him. He had been distant and downcast ever since, although that sadness had started to show itself as frustration in the last few days. Akira had even had a few run-ins with Ryuji, who had started to let his anger about the Detective's work fly without any filter.

The blonde grabbed his arm, forcing him roughly to his feet.

"Come on. You're going to tell me what's wrong, and you're going to do it fast, because I can't stand seeing you with that 'woe is me' look all day."

She dragged him up to the roof, where the group had met a few times before to get some privacy. She sat on a misplaced desk and looked at him with her arms crossed, clearly expecting a much more elaborate answer than a simple "nothing's wrong."

However, to her surprise, Kurusu didn't waste time in spilling his guts. He told her absolutely everything as he paced back and forth on the roof, gesturing angrily at the air as he thought about how stupid he felt for having believed even a single one of the Detective's words. By the time the black-haired boy finished speaking, the next class had already been underway for a while, and it was clear from the atmosphere that neither of them would be attending for the next few hours.

"So that's what's keeping you up at night?"

"You think that's not enough?" Surprise painted itself across the boy's face. "Sorry my story about being in a vicious cycle with my arch-nemesis isn't surprising enough for you." The sarcasm dripped from his words, making his bitterness obvious.

"It's not that it's 'not enough.' It's that it seems really obvious what you have to do, and you're just playing dumb." The girl had no qualms about speaking her mind, which didn't surprise him.

"I'm screwed, Ann. I know I should cut off all contact with him and stick to our plan, but..."

It was then that the metaphorical lightbulb in his head lit up.

"But... what if I don't?" A triumphant smile spread across his face, which the young woman mirrored.

"Alright. What kind of trouble are you planning on getting into now?"

Chapter Text

A new game had begun, a completely different one, where the cat believed he had the mouse cornered, unaware that he was the one being hunted. Akira, deliberately, had distanced himself from Goro, leaving him to his own devices, knowing that the silence would drive him completely mad.

Due to the Detective's distracted nature, he had been forced to take a couple of days off, making that weekend a slow and agonizing torture for him.

Akechi was lying on his bed, staring at the ceiling, understanding nothing. His mind was nothing more than a messy outline of ideas that didn't add up in his head.

Why hadn't Kurusu said anything?

Why wasn't his phone full of absurd messages, begging him to talk about what had happened at the beginning of the week?

Had he failed again?

That burned him inside. He couldn't believe he had exposed himself to the younger one for the sake of his plan, letting him see his weak points to appear vulnerable, and it had all been for nothing. If that was the case, he was in serious trouble. Now that the group knew his tragic story, they could use all of that against him and end his career.

Although that seemed rather unlikely to him. Akira had no proof; it was his word against Akechi’s, and no one would believe him if he said anything, right? However, he couldn't dismiss the idea that the black-haired boy was plotting something. Their relationship had always been a push and pull of incessant games where both tried to prove they were better than the other. If he based it on that, the leader clearly had something planned for him, and he had to be prepared.

He got out of bed, ready to prepare for one of the interviews he had scheduled to distract himself. After taking a longer-than-usual shower where he let the hot water almost burn his skin, he combed his hair decently, brushed his teeth, and dressed for the occasion. He had to make a good impression; no one else could know he was at a dead end in his life, so appearances were all he had left. Although, if he thought about it, it was what he had always had.

A pair of black dress pants, a black button-down shirt, his white tie, and a brown jacket with matching shoes. He looked at himself in the mirror as he dabbed perfume on his wrists and neck, analyzing how he looked. He was perfect, elegant, and had presence. There was only one flaw: His face screamed that he hadn't slept well in days, and his gaze showed how miserable he felt.

He sighed at the mirror and forced a smile, putting on that mask of happiness and perfection he hated so much. That damned smile hid every negative feeling he might have inside. No one must know the truth. One glimpse of vulnerability and he'd be truly screwed. And even more so considering that today's interview was for the most sensationalist channel in the country.

He had seen many public figures fall in those interviews, which was why he always declined them; however, this time was different. He needed a victory, however stupid it might be. He wanted to leave that building smiling with egotism, knowing that, as much as he had lost to Kurusu, he was still "the great Goro Akechi,” the King of Lies. It wasn't for nothing that Loki had been granted to him in the Metaverse.

When he finally arrived at the building at the scheduled time, the paparazzi were already waiting for him at the entrance. He got out of his official car, greeting the cameras with the same composed and perfect expression as always. He could hear some girls screaming unhinged things like, "Detective, I'm single!" and others, much more polite, who simply wished him luck in the interview.

How those moments disgusted him; he couldn't stand that little group of fanatics in love with someone they thought they knew but who didn't exist. However, he needed to inflate his ego however he could, and this was perfect.

Everyone loved him, or rather, they loved the figure of the "Detective Prince" who, however unreal, was him, too. Of course they loved him, right? He had designed every phrase, every look, and every smile to conquer their hearts. He hadn't lost his touch yet. The only idiot who seemed to resist was the damned Akira Kurusu.

He went to his dressing room, where the makeup artist wouldn't stop praising how little touching up he needed to appear on screen, pointing out the symmetry of his face and the perfection of his skin. He limited himself to smiling with feigned embarrassment. It wasn't something he hadn't heard before or that surprised him; he had a rigorous care routine. Of course there wasn't a single imperfection on his face beyond the slightly pronounced dark circles from lack of sleep, which weren't at all strange considering he studied and worked relentlessly.

After that, he entered the set when he was introduced, politely greeting the woman who was going to interview him.

"I see your fans adore you," the woman, whose name he had already forgotten again, pointed out the obvious, hearing the ovations and applause as he appeared from behind the cameras.

"I don't think I'll ever get used to receiving so much applause,"—there was the false modesty that secretly characterized him—"I'm still surprised by the number of people who follow my investigations; I'm truly grateful for their support."

The applause grew, and he smiled, feigning embarrassment again, softening the hearts of those present who began to whisper how adorable he was when he blushed like that. All of this fed the Detective's broken ego, who was enjoying the inordinate attention from the entire set.

The interview began by talking about the case that had shocked everyone, the famous mystery of “The Phantom Thieves" and how uncovering that mystery was going to propel his career to absolute stardom. He couldn't give details, so his answers were always ambiguous and undeveloped, limiting himself to calming the public's eagerness by saying they were moving in the right direction and that both he and Inspector Niijima's police team were working tirelessly to resolve it as soon as possible. After more than half an hour of talking about it, the conversation took the course the Detective was expecting.

"Well, besides investigating, I hope our Detective Prince has time to rest. It's important at your age to have some free time to socialize, maybe meet someone special..."

There it was, the question they had asked him a thousand times before. What a nightmare.

"I try to balance my free time as best I can, even though it's quite scarce, though I can't complain about my social life," he lied shamelessly, although no one realized it. If a social life he couldn't complain about meant having spent the last few months locked in a disgusting attic with the wretched Kurusu, he was doomed.

"Oh, does that mean there's someone in the great Detective's life who keeps him busy in his free time? We're interested in knowing that, tell us the details!"

He laughed delicately, narrowing his eyes to give his expression a tender look.

"Not exactly, as I've said before, I don't have time for romance; but I do have friends. At the end of the day, I'm just a normal, ordinary teenager."

Normal and ordinary. Of course.

"Not all teenagers are prodigies, don't be so modest. Anyone in your position would be much less humble."

The topic drifted to the Detective's incredible kindness and humility, how it was possible that someone so brilliant didn't boast about his abilities, and how almost irrational it seemed that someone like him wouldn't want to show off about it.

"In the last interview you gave, they talked about the forum dedicated to your 'Fan Club,' haven't you read the recent comments? Some of them are quite interesting."

"I don't spend much leisure time on the Internet, truth be told. I already live glued to a screen because of my studies and my investigation, so I try to use my time on other kinds of things,"a rather polite way of saying he didn't give a damn about anything they had to say on that stupid forum.

"Would you like to read a couple of comments that caught our attention? I'd like to know what someone as composed as you has to say about them..."

He could see the trap they were trying to set for him from a mile away, but his curiosity got the better of his logic, so he nodded with a tenderly doubtful expression. After reading several comments that simply sexualized him and explained in lavish detail what they would do to every part of his body, he got to what he assumed was the key to it all:

The Detective hides a dark secret, and someday it will come to light. It's incredible that no one else sees it, although it's also normal; with so much phoniness, he deceives any idiot willing to follow him like a lapdog. If only everyone knew what I know. No one would dare to pay him a single compliment on this platform again.

He couldn't help but think of one name upon reading that: Akira Kurusu. Was he really trying to vent on one of those shitty forums just to avoid telling him what he thought to his face?

He pressed his lips together so tightly they formed a thin line on his face and frowned, analyzing the writing style. It didn't seem like the younger man's way of expressing himself, but who else could it be? It had the same nickname as the hate comment he had read in the other interview: "Unmasker of the masked."

The irony of the name did not go unnoticed by him. It couldn't be anyone else after reading that. He remembered how the younger man had freely accused him of being "the one with the black mask." If he connected everything, he couldn't help but see the obvious connection. He was the only one who saw through his mask, the one who had spent enough time with him to freely say he knew him...

"Is everything alright, Detective? I think this last comment affected you more than I thought." 

The journalist smiled cynically, pleased to think she had finally broken the teen's confidence, although Goro wasn't going to let her get away with it so easily.

"Oh, I'm sorry, the truth is I was trying to analyze what this anonymous person could be referring to..."—he lightly gripped his chin and tilted his head to the side with a pensive gesture—"But I can't seem to understand what they mean. A dark secret? I don't know what they could be alluding to. As I've said, I'm just a normal, ordinary teenager."

"The 'Unmasker' has dedicated several comments full of hatred towards you, analyzing your behavior and explaining why you are a fake and untrustworthy person..."—the woman smiled with sadism, hoping to shatter the younger man's composed presence—"I'm not accusing you, I'm a big fan of yours, but it's interesting to read how he analyzes you. Do you think this will make people doubt you?"

"It's probable,"—he added, still looking at the screen with the highlighted text—"although that only means I have to work a little harder to prove that's not the case, right? I'm a Detective; my career is based on not judging without compelling evidence. I wouldn't let myself be intimidated by an anonymous person if they offer nothing more than an empty comment on an internet forum."

He spoke slowly, analyzing every word he said, throwing down a challenge to the supposed Akira behind the comment.

You can't destroy me without proof, that's what he wanted to make crystal clear to him. And no one was going to believe him if he said what he already knew. The Metaverse, the murders, Shido... None of that would make sense to a normal person. His "dark secret" was so well hidden that it wouldn't be easy to dismantle, not even by telling the absolute truth.

"That's our Detective Prince, always so analytical and logical. There's no way to make his voice even tremble, eh?"

Akira was at Leblanc, attending to the morning customers while Goro's interview played in the background on the television. He seemed to be paying no attention, although, upon hearing the Detective's triumph against the journalist, he smiled with conviction. Not because he was happy for him, but because he knew what was on his mind.

He knew that the coincidence had not gone unnoticed by Goro and that, sooner or later, the chess game between them would continue.

Which king would be the first to fall? The "Trickster" or the "Liar"? They would have to keep playing to find out.

Chapter Text

It had been over a week since he'd heard anything from Akira. More than a damn week. Who did that imbecile Kurusu think he was? Did he think he was going to score a point in this battle? Oh, no. No way.

That interview, far from bringing him satisfaction, had managed to get him obsessed with that forum full of fanatics who were more frightening than pride-inducing. Every night he logged on, searching for Kurusu's comments, trying to see if he'd respond to his public provocation. However, silence was the only answer. The only one that could unhinge him, the only one that kept dragging him deeper and deeper into that obsessive spiral.

As soon as he woke up, he opened his laptop, finally finding what he had been longing to see. A new comment. A new provocation.

Looks like the Detective is starting to get nervous about my comments, huh? He's pretty predictable, so much so that it's boring. An actor who can't act is destined for absolute failure. What a drag.

What the fuck had he just read? Akira thought he was hilarious, didn't he? The great Goro Akechi... BORING!? PREDICTABLE!?

He slammed the laptop shut with more force than necessary, not even flinching at the thought he might have broken the screen, and stared at the pristine white wall in front of him, as if everything in his head was spinning purposelessly.

Did Akira want to play? Let's see how funny he'd be when a bullet went through his hea—

The ring of his phone snapped him out of his momentary fit of rage. Seeing a private number was calling, he felt a cold sweat run down the back of his neck. He knew what that meant, and it was never anything good.

He took several deep breaths before answering the call.

"Good morning, Goro Akechi speaking." His professional, nonchalant tone left no doubt he was being composed, even if inside he was a whirlwind of anxiety.

"Detective Akechi, it's been a while," greeted the male voice he'd been dreading to hear, dripping with false sympathy. "I won't beat around the bush. I saw the interview the other day, and I see public opinion is starting to waver..."

"Don't worry about that, Sir. Everything is under control. He's nothing more than an internet 'troll' trying to be funny," he replied with so much conviction he almost believed himself.

"Are you sure? Because you seemed a little... distracted when they showed you the comments. You haven't dared to make a mistake, have you?" The question carried the full weight of a threat. "Your best virtue is perfection, Detective. If you aren't perfect in the public's eyes, you're useless to me. Keep that in mind for the future. I'd hate to have to dispose of my best pawn at this stage."

Just as the sentence was spoken, the call ended. And for the first time in a long time, Goro felt absolute terror.

Dispose of... him?

Was Shido threatening to get rid of him?

"No, no, no... This can't be happening..." he spoke to himself, unraveling in a matter of seconds.

He shot up from his seat, grabbing his bag and a red sweatshirt to get out of his  apartment, which felt more like a prison than a safe place right then. He didn't even bother to change; he was wearing beige sweatpants and a baggy white t-shirt. He didn't want to waste time; he didn't care about not looking presentable. He had to regain control. He couldn't let his entire life's plan fall apart because of Akira.

Did that bastard of Kurusu want to win this battle? Did he want to see him begging, kneeling, for his forgiveness? Fuck yes, he would, if it meant not losing the final war. But he would bury this offense deep inside himself; he wasn't going to forget it. And he would make him pay. Sooner or later.

"Revenge is a dish best served cold," they always say. Well, this dish would be so cold it would be inedible. Only then could he ensure that, when the time came, the leader of the gang would pay for everything he had done to him, for everything he was taking from him.

His mind was racing so fast that it felt like he reached the entrance of Leblanc in minutes when, in reality, the trip between his building and the café was just over an hour by public transport. Once he was standing in front, he felt tachycardia begin to constrict his chest. He was sweating—not from effort, but from fear.

He looked through the glass of the door, glimpsing Kurusu serving a soda to Ryuji. Both were laughing and talking casually next to Sojiro, who seemed to be giving the dark-haired boy a lecture. He couldn't believe what he was seeing. While he was unhinged, anxious, on the verge of collapse, Akira was just continuing with his life as if Goro didn't affect him in the slightest. As if he wasn't spending his free time tearing down all his credibility on the internet.

He was about to throw up; he could feel the bile rising in the back of his throat.

When had that imbecile managed to get under his skin like this? When had he gotten so far ahead in this race? A whirlwind of unanswered questions in his mind made it impossible to even understand his own thoughts.

It was then that Ryuji came out of the café, bumping straight into Akechi as he looked back to say goodbye to Akira. Goro’s  skin paled drastically.

"Uhh... Hello? What are you doing just standing here, dude?" he spoke louder than normal, so the black-haired guy would know someone unexpected was there. "It's kinda weird to just stand out here. You're not spying on Kurusu, are ya?" he joked, half-heartedly, laughing awkwardly at the scene.

Even Ryuji had realized something serious had happened. You didn't have to be bright to figure it out; one look at his distraught face was enough.

Goro looked past the punk, not responding to his stupid joke, making eye contact with Akira, who, for a second, seemed genuinely surprised. Even... worried? Was he really cynical enough to feign concern after what he'd put him through? Right now, he doubted he'd ever really known him. Maybe Kurusu was just like him—a liar, a fake in everyone else's eyes, putting on a good-boy act...

No. That was impossible. He wasn't smart enough for that.

Sojiro analyzed the situation, sighed wearily, and gestured to Akira, letting him know he could take a break. There were hardly any customers, so he could take some time off to talk to "his friend," the one who had supposedly helped him get over his alleged broken heart. That's what he believed, at least.

Kurusu took off his apron and walked to the door. First, he said goodbye to Ryuji, the two fist-bumping with camaraderie. They said something about seeing each other tonight, or at least that's what Goro thought he heard. The only thing he could hear clearly was the pounding of his own heart and his rapid breathing. When the blond left, saying goodbye to him too, he didn't even answer. He just stared at the younger boy, who was standing in front of him with his hands in his pockets, expectant and somewhat lost.

"Let's get some air. I think you need it," was all Akira said, starting to walk in silence.

Akechi followed him, still completely silent.

What had he even come here for? With the panic attack, he hadn't had time to formulate a plan. What could he say to him? How did he think he was going to turn this situation around if he hadn't thought about what to do? He had made another mistake. Another stupid, absurd mistake.

"I think... I should go... I..." he practically stammered, his gaze fixed on the pavement.

Kurusu watched him, almost with pity, analyzing his fearful expression and his almost-whispered voice.

"You're not going to tell me what happened? What were you doing standing at the door? If you wanted to talk, you just had to call me or come in." The black-haired boy smiled at him, trying to meet his gaze without success. That made him drop his teasing expression.

Something bad had happened.

Maybe he had gone too far with Goro. He'd never seen him like this—well, rather, he'd never seen him look anything even remotely like this.

The Detective didn't answer. He stopped in the middle of the street and turned around, ready to head back to the subway. But the younger boy grabbed his arm, stopping his escape.

"Don't leave," Akira said, also looking at the ground as if he were embarrassed, though Akechi couldn't be sure since his messy bangs covered his eyes. "You don't have to tell me what's wrong, but don't leave."

"Why?"

"Why don't you have to tell me? Or why don't I want you to leave?"

It was then that their gazes met, and both had something in common: Vulnerability. Akira was genuinely worried, and Goro felt lost. The Detective didn't answer. He just pressed his lips together in anger, making his jaw tremble slightly.

"Come on, you're a mess, and I know what might cheer you up," Akira said, smiling with some uncertainty as he firmly pulled the other's wrist. Akechi stared at the grip, feeling how the younger boy's skin almost seemed to burn against his. However, he had no strength to protest or flee. He was exhausted, so much so that he could only allow himself to be led, not even realizing where he was being taken.

After a few minutes of walking, Akira stopped in front of a small convenience store. It looked old, and from the entrance, it smelled like dust accumulated in the corners. He let go of his wrist and made a triumphant "we're here" gesture, smiling.

"What are we doing here?"

"Get inside before you complain. I can already see your disgusted face," Kurusu joked, pushing him in from behind.

Akechi observed the place. There were several shelves with cheap sweets, some of them handmade; there was also pastry and food of dubious quality... He couldn't help but frown in disgust. The younger boy laughed at his reaction and, with a finger on Goro's cheek, redirected his gaze to the right corner of the store. There, unnoticed, was a small, old arcade cabinet—one of those where you put in a coin and could play some video game that was top-of-the-line in its day but was now outdated.

Goro looked at Akira, not understanding why this would cheer him up. Almost as if reading his mind, the black-haired boy sat on the bench in front of the machine and patted the spot next to him, inviting him to sit.

"I know you're not one to talk about yourself. That's something that was hard for me to understand, but... I've accepted it," he said while looking for a coin in his wallet. "And I also know that the only time we don't want to rip each other's heads off is when we're competing. So, may the best of us win!"

Akira had passed by this store a while ago and had gone in out of curiosity. As soon as he saw the arcade cabinet, he thought of the Detective, though that had been several weeks ago, before everything got so complicated between them.

Kurusu's smile seemed so lively that it almost relieved the anxiety built up in the Detective's chest. Almost. Because his more-than-likely imminent death, if Shido decides to remove him from the equation, weighed more heavily than anything.

"Do you think I'm five?" he muttered in an annoyed tone, even as he began to settle in, familiarizing himself with the controls.

The younger boy smiled, glancing at him sideways. In moments like this, Goro seemed almost normal. In fact, these moments were probably the only times he saw him look like a normal, ordinary teenager, just as he'd defined himself in his last interview.

The game started without further delay. It was just an old video game—in this case, and to the dismay of both, a cooperative one. The premise was to eliminate a series of enemies, leveling up until reaching the final boss. However, they still managed to compete.

Each player had a scoreboard on their side of the screen; every time they killed an enemy or opened a chest, they accumulated a certain number of points. Whoever had the most at the end of the game would be the winner.

They played in relative silence, speaking only to complain that the other had "stolen a kill" or to exclaim, "I saw that treasure chest first!". Without either of them realizing it, nearly three hours had passed, and the end of the game had arrived. By a difference of two simple points, Goro was the winner. That victory felt like a breath of fresh air, making him smile with a certain smugness.

"There he is, ladies and gentlemen, the great Goro Akechi," Kurusu added, looking at him with a matching grin. "You're finally back to being you. I was starting to get worried," he joked, giving him a light punch on the shoulder. "Welcome back, Detective."

That caught Goro off guard.

Why was he referring to him like that? He had never cheered him on with one of those pretentious names they always gave him in the news.

Was he mocking him? Did the one who dared call himself "the unmasker" have the audacity to laugh at him?

Then he saw Akira stand up, stretching his back lazily.

"Come on, I'll treat you to some curry. It's your prize for beating me." There was no mockery in his voice, no disdain, no... nothing. There was nothing. It almost seemed like he actually wanted to spend time with him.

Goro nodded, walking behind him in silence again. Kurusu walked with his hands in his pockets, slightly hunched, probably from the back pain the posture on that old bench had given him. The Detective was at his side, watching him out of the corner of his eye as if he were a puzzle; he needed to know what he was thinking, what his plans were. It was impossible that, after what he was doing, he wouldn't give a single sign of what his plan for Goro was.

They arrived at Leblanc quickly, but Sojiro didn't let Akira get comfortable. He immediately sent him to put his apron on and serve a few tables that were waiting. People outside had smelled Sakura's famous curry, and the place was almost full, eager to eat something decent.

Akechi sat in his usual spot at the counter and, without even having to order, Sojiro had already served him a coffee, just the way he liked it. He had been there so often that the man just assumed what he would order. Without knowing why, that familiarity annoyed him, though he limited himself to smiling and thanking him with a nod before drinking in silence.

When the place cleared out a bit, Kurusu sat down next to him, wiping his forehead with his forearm, and sighed tiredly.

"My shift should be over any minute, if Sojiro doesn't make me clean the tables with my tongue for leaving him alone for so long. We can go upstairs and eat together, if you want. If not, I'll pack the curry to-go for you."

The invitation felt like a trap, so Goro looked at him with a scowl.

"Why?" was all he answered.

"Why what?" The black-haired boy looked back to him, not understanding what he was asking.

"Why are you doing this?" He pointed a finger between the two of them, referring to the sudden closeness. "You disappear for almost two weeks, and now you want to spend time with me. Why?"

"I guess when I saw you at the door, I got the impression you needed support..." Akira leaned back, resting against the stool's backrest, letting his head fall back to look at the ceiling. "I'm trying to understand you, that's all. It's... the only thing I've been doing since we met."

Silence filled the scene between them for a few seconds. Goro sighed, wanting to break the tension more for his own mental health than anything else.

"Just go finish the dishes so we can go upstairs... I'm starving, and if I take the curry home, I'll have to reheat it, and that's disgusting."

Akira smiled and nodded.

"Of course, Goro," he murmured before going to finish his chores.

The Detective watched him from where he sat. Akira seemed normal, even cheerful. And he was a mess, just as he'd described.

How had he come to this? When had he lost his mind so completely as to let the situation overcome him like this? He had to pull himself together. Yeah. This was the right time to counterattack. Akira had let his guard down in the face of his apparent vulnerability and seemed relaxed.

It was the perfect moment to play his cards again and turn the game in his favor.

It was the only way Goro understood survival. His life was a constant war, and he wasn't going to lose it over an absurd panic attack.

Chapter Text

To the Detective's surprise, when they were alone in Akira's attic, the calm between them was almost comforting. They ate in silence, sitting on the bed—Akira with his back against the wall, and Goro sitting on the farthest corner, like someone afraid of provoking unnecessary closeness.

The hot food seemed to soothe the ache in his body from the tension at the start of the day; one could even say he felt more animated. The black-haired boy sometimes glanced at him out of the corner of his eye, watching how the other's mouth formed a nearly imperceptible smile as he tried an especially savory bite of pork.

When Goro was this calm, it wasn't hard for Akira to remember what he had liked about him. Despite spending his life acting like someone he wasn't, the older boy's personality wasn't actually unpleasant. Not really. Deep down, he felt it was a shame that people didn't know this side of him—these simple moments that, to Kurusu, made the Detective truly shine.

Akechi felt himself being watched. He lifted his gaze to see Akira with a tender smile on his face and his eyes widened in surprise, immediately looking away.

"Why are you looking at me like that? Do I have something on my face?" he murmured, trying to relax to control the heat in his cheeks.

The younger boy laughed, his eyes crinkling adorably.

"I'm glad the food cheered you up. You look less... bitter." The adjective left his lips like a taunt, making Goro look at him, annoyed. That earned a genuine laugh. "It was a joke, idiot. Don't pull out your gun just yet."

Akechi made a grumpy sound in his throat, showing a hint of ego.

Why did he keep looking at him like that? Had... had his previous plan worked, and Akira believed he reciprocated? Maybe he was just playing hard to get those two weeks... The typical teenage game of "if he doesn't text me today, I won't text him either."

He decided to test his theory; he needed proof. If that were the case, the forum comments didn't make sense. And it was pretty obvious those comments were from Akira.

"Hey... why haven't you spoken to me these past weeks? I thought you didn't want to see me anymore," Goro asked, testing the waters with the utmost care.

Kurusu devoured the last piece of meat on his plate and swallowed slowly, thinking about how to answer that.

"And I thought you weren't coming back," he decided to answer truthfully. Half-truthfully. Something that didn't go unnoticed by the Detective.

"Why don't you just tell me what you really think? I think we'd get this over with sooner."

Goro was always blunt, much more so than he should have been. Akira was a sincere and admittedly sentimental guy; he didn't handle these situations with the coldness the other did. However, he had an enviable nerve to endure being locked in the attic with his enemy—the one who had attacked him in this very attic—without flinching.

"I've thought a lot about everything you told me. Your story, your feelings... It all seems unreal, you know? Still, something tells me I should find out the truth for myself..." he spoke as he got up to put his and Goro's plates on the desk, making space on the bed. Then, he sat down next to the Detective—too close for the latter's comfort, who couldn't help but stiffen immediately.

Noticing that genuine bodily reaction, Akira sighed in disappointment before seeking Goro's gaze.

"Tell me the truth. Do you like me, or was it just a sham to keep manipulating me?"

Akechi swallowed. He had to act and sound convincing; he couldn't lose this opportunity. He feigned nervousness expertly, fidgeting with the sleeves of his sweatshirt between his fingers.

"I don't know. I've never felt anything like this for anyone. I like competing with you, and I feel good when we're together, so I guess I—"

"Did you like kissing me?" Akira interrupted him, making him go blank.

"I... I mean..."

"It's a yes or no question, it's not that complicated, Detective." A somewhat mischievous smile played on his face, the "Trickster" peeking out from behind that facade of innocence dressed in fake glasses.

"I don't know, I... I'd actually never, you know..."

Akira tilted his head, somewhat confused, taking a few seconds to realize Goro's confession. It was his first kiss. He had been the first person to have the audacity to defile the lips of the incredible Goro Akechi. For some reason, that fed his ego, making him smile with confidence.

The younger boy moved slightly closer to the other and gently stroked his chin.

"Why don't you let me show you how it's really done? Normal people don't strangle someone after a kiss..."

Fuck, why did he have to be so touchy? It got on his nerves, though he couldn't show it.

"You think you're such an expert at kissing, Kurusu? I didn't realize you'd had so many flings that you can now afford to give lessons on it. Fascinating." He held his gaze with a frown, and as much as he wanted to put distance between them, he didn't pull away. He wanted him to believe he wanted to do this.

Akira laughed, moving a little closer, so close that the mist of his breath warmed the older boy's pursed lips.

"Just tell me if you want me to do it. Or, if you don't want to admit it out loud, just don't pull away," he whispered, beginning to close the few millimeters remaining between them very, very slowly. So slowly it was torture.

Time seemed to have stopped. Goro wanted to flee, or punch him and break those glasses again—the ones he now kept functional with a piece of tape holding the left arm.

Then, just as he felt their mouths brush, not yet completing the kiss...

"Akira!! I hope you're decent!!" shouted a voice, as feminine as it was shrill, from the stairs, making them both jump apart to a distance that was as prudent as it was suspicious, each at one end of the bed. Ann appeared in the attic, though she wasn't alone. Ryuji, Futaba, and Makoto were with her.

"Sorry we came earlier than we said! We were walking around the area and wanted to see if Sojiro had let you off..."

The girl looked at the Detective with an unfriendly expression. It was obvious Ryuji had set this all up so they wouldn't be alone for so long. That meant Akira had told them something. What? Goro wasn't sure.

"I should probably get going. I don't want to interrupt your plans," he said, getting up quickly, inwardly grateful for the interruption.

Futaba immediately blocked his path.

"Why don't you stay, Detective? We were going to play board games. You can team up with Akira. Or... what, you don't have time for fun?"

He knew that invitation was more of a trial by fire than a sincere proposal. The looks exchanged between the group were clear: They were testing him.

He analyzed his options for a few seconds. If he stayed, Kurusu might think he was doing it for him, that really any excuse was good enough to spend time together. On the other hand, if he left, he'd avoid the imminent kiss the younger boy seemed to be longing to give him. The second option weighed more heavily than the first, to be honest.

Ann grabbed the Detective's arm without warning, making him stiffen all over again.

"Alright, settled! Akira, you, and I will be a team. Futaba, Ryuji, and Makoto will be another. That way we're even."

Without quite knowing how, he found himself in the middle of what looked like a free-for-all. It was a stupid game, some kind of team Trivial Pursuit. The winner would be whoever accumulated the most points by answering prompts from a mobile app. When the questions ran out, they'd tally the score, and the losing team would treat the rest to dinner that night.

"What the hell am I doing here?"

Futaba and Ann were in charge of reading the questions to the opposing team. Goro watched the scene, bored. The questions were too easy. He watched as Ann and Akira discussed the answers for a few seconds before calling out the correct one, not really playing as a team.

What is sodium chloride called at the table? He'd wait a few seconds out of courtesy before saying aloud: Salt.

What is bigger: An atom or a molecule? A molecule.

What year did 'A Clockwork Orange' premiere? 1971.

What is Sherlock Holmes' motto?

"When you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth." This time, Kurusu beat him to it, not giving him time to react.

"I didn't know you liked to read, Kurusu," he said, clearing his throat, intending the phrase as an insult, partly annoyed that he hadn't answered first.

"I've always liked detective stories, you know, Detective?" A mocking smile appeared on his face, making Ann roll her eyes with exasperation while the rest of the table looked at them, somewhat perplexed.

Was he hitting on him... IN FRONT OF EVERYONE?

Now he had no doubt the rest must know something. At least the girls, since Ryuji was looking at them with a frown, not understanding what just happened. That guy wouldn't recognize flirting even if a girl threw herself at him.

Goro looked at him with absolute annoyance, looking away as he gestured with his hand for Ann to read the next question for the other team.

Just as Makoto was the only one who shined with wisdom on the rival team—though he couldn't deny Futaba's knowledge of technology was admirable—on his own team, he and Akira had started competing with each other. Of course. It seemed both of them wanted to show the other up by answering before their adversary, even talking over each other with the answers and arguing about who had answered first.

To his surprise, the game wasn't boring. At least, not since that dynamic had been established. Akira seemed like an idiot, but he had knowledge of many random topics, some of which genuinely surprised Goro.

When the game ended, he couldn't help but feel a certain disappointment at the final tally. It was obvious their team had won by a landslide, but he and Kurusu had tied. That left a bitter taste in his mouth, making him frown and cross his arms like an angry child.

Kurusu looked at him, smiling, unable to hide the fondness he felt for those childish gestures he rarely allowed to himself. Ann gave him a light nudge, judging him with a look that he could interpret as "don't forget the plan, idiot." The younger boy shook his head, looking away from the Detective, who was so wrapped up in his disappointment that he hadn't noticed a thing.

"Well, then we'll treat," Makoto said. "If someone would study even the slightest bit, maybe we wouldn't have lost..."

Ryuji didn't realize she was talking about him until he saw her looking at him.

"Hey! It's not my fault! Who knows when the First Sino-Japanese War was? Nobody!"

"1894 to '95," Goro replied, flatly refuting the blond's complaint.

"Will you shut up? You're not helping," the young man sounded overly aggressive, even for a punk like him, and Kurusu immediately intervened.

"Don't take it out on him just because you're uncultured. It's not his fault," he joked, laughing loudly to ease the tension.

The group got into an absurd argument about who was the most uncultured of them all, with the blond boy winning by a landslide, having only answered one or two questions about sports. Even Ann had managed to answer some very basic general knowledge, but he... he did what he could. Which was very little.

After a while, Futaba let out a weary groan.

"I'm hungry," she murmured, pressing her forehead to the table. "Let's go to dinner already. I'm sick of hearing you argue..."

The group cleaned up the black-haired boy's room, putting everything back in its place, and they all went downstairs, with Goro being the last to follow. He felt too out of place in that atmosphere and knew he didn't belong there. Because of that, as they left Leblanc towards the subway station, he began to say his goodbyes at the door.

"I'm going to head home. I'm not hungry yet, and I still have work to do." A friendly smile formed on his face as an apology, though it was nothing more than a falsehood to avoid spending more time than necessary with all of them.

Akira looked at him with that same worried expression he'd worn almost all day. The rest of the group said goodbye to him quickly, not insisting he stay; it seemed they all wanted him gone as soon as possible. But the black-haired boy signaled for them to head into the station without him.

"You're going to miss your train. You should follow them," Goro stressed, not understanding why he had stayed behind.

Akira grabbed his wrist and pulled him into one of the alleys formed by the entrance-way shops, which were almost all closed for the hour. The Detective's heart accelerated to a thousand miles an hour. He had to admit, Akira was hard to read at times, and when he did things like this, he never expected them. And he hated that with all his being. However, he had to pretend he liked it, so he looked away, acting shy.

Kurusu grabbed his chin and smiled as he met his eyes.

"You're not escaping this time, Sherlock." That sentence was as decisive as the act that followed. The younger boy moved closer to him, slowly kissing his lips.

Goro couldn't stand it. He grabbed the other's shirt tightly, trying to push him away, but Akira kept kissing him—slowly, torturously... Almost... Pleasantly...

Little by little, Goro's resistance began to fade, and he returned the kiss with the same rhythm. He convinced himself it was for the good of the plan; that the more believable his supposed feelings for Akira were, the more he could take advantage of the situation. Although the younger boy's lips were starting to feel warm...

Before he could even fully welcome the kiss, he turned his head, cutting the moment off completely. Kurusu smiled, gently pressing his forehead against Akechi's head, hiding his face in the Detective's soft, well-kept hair.

"Good night, Detective. Let me know when you get home," he finished the farewell, placing another kiss at the corner of Goro's lips, and left in the same direction his friends had gone.

Akechi's mind was even more jumbled than it had been that morning, though for a totally different reason. What had happened? Had he really had such a bad day that Kurusu's warmth had... comforted him? It couldn't be anything else. It wasn't every day that your father—who, among other things, doesn't know he is your father—threatens to kill you if you aren't useful to him.

When he thought about it, the whole day had been nonsense. However, he had gotten something good out of it: it seemed Akira was still hooked on him, like a drug he couldn't refuse. That was interesting. And useful.

If Kurusu was the one from the forum, he didn't hate him that much if he was capable of kissing him like that, so devoutly and sincerely. Maybe the comments under a stupid pseudonym just served as a momentary relief, something he did to vent somehow.

He still didn't have enough proof, but it was obvious he still felt something for the Detective, and he had no intention of wasting the opportunity. This was his last play, and he couldn't fail. Next time, he might not live to tell the tale, so he couldn't afford a single mistake.

"Sherlock, huh? Damn Kurusu... I always identified more with Moriarty..." he murmured to himself, an almost malicious smile forming on his face as he wiped his lips on the sleeve of his sweatshirt.

Chapter Text

The next two weeks were relatively normal for both of them. Monotony returned to populate their lives, although Shido now had the Detective in his crosshairs. He called him more than usual to make sure he was complying, or trying to comply, with the new "assignment."

It was complicated, like everything he asked of him, so he had to start investigating the next victim as soon as possible. Summer was approaching, and with it, final exams. The sooner he finished with this "obstacle," the sooner he could continue with his plan.

He spoke regularly with Kurusu via text message, maintaining contact for the sole reason of not losing the best card he had, knowing that if he played his hand right, he'd be able to get rid of the little group quickly.

Kurusu: It's been a while. Am I that bad a kisser?

He was in the school library finishing a literature paper when he received the message that made his stomach twist.

Goro: I'm busy. Some of us have a decent standard to uphold in society.

Kurusu: Don't be rude. And here I was, about to suggest something interesting...

Goro: I'm busy.

Kurusu: See you at Club Penguin Sniper in Kichijoji at 8:00 PM. Look sharp.

Goro: I'm not going.

Kurusu: Then I'll just ask Makoto. We've been spending a lot of time together lately...

The Detective frowned and replied without thinking.

Goro: 7:30 PM. Don't be late.

He placed the phone face down on the table and sighed, deeply annoyed by those last messages. Damn Kurusu. With everything he had going on and he was forcing him to waste his valuable time like this. But he had to play along with the black-haired boy, didn't he? He couldn't let him discover that he didn't actually feel anything special for him.

"As if Makoto could keep up with him..." he muttered to himself, gathering his notes to go home and make himself look good.

Once in his apartment, he took a shower and groomed himself as usual. He dressed "sharp," complying with Akira's absurd request: a white button-down shirt, a dark gray vest, his characteristic tie, and slightly elegant black trousers with matching shoes.

He looked at himself in the mirror, noticing that, thanks to partially recovering his sleep routine, his face was starting to look better. His most expensive cologne left a pleasant, sweet scent when he walked, and his distinguished presence felt strange at this hour, standing in front of a bar like that.

Akira arrived two minutes late—just enough for the Detective to not be particularly receptive, entering the place without even greeting him. He hated being kept waiting. The younger boy walked behind him with a mocking smile, knowing that the delay, however minimal, had annoyed him.

Once inside, they both ordered a soda at the bar, and Goro headed straight for one of the pool tables, assuming that's what they were there for.

"Are you not going to talk to me all night?" Kurusu asked, not losing his smile. Making Goro angry was especially fun.

"You were late. I don't know why you'd ask me to meet you if you didn't plan on arriving at the time we set."

Akira moved closer to Goro and placed a hand on the small of his back, concealing the contact since they were in public.

"You look very handsome. Did you get so dressed up for me? How thoughtful," he murmured, smiling.

It was then that Akechi realized his outfit clashed terribly with the other's. Akira was dressed in a plain white t-shirt, jeans, and sneakers.

"Why would you tell me to dress up if we're just going to be in a dive, and on top of that, you show up dressed like that?" Goro practically growled, understanding what was happening before he even heard the answer.

"I wanted to see if you'd do what I asked. I didn't think you'd take it like a real date..." he paused, gently inhaling the scent of his cologne. "You smell good. Did you change your cologne? Or is this the one for special occasions?"

He was laughing at him. Or at least, that's how Goro was interpreting it.

"You're an asshole."

"I know." After that simple reply, Akira began to rack the pool balls, never losing the smile that had adorned his face since he'd arrived.

The Detective was fuming, absurdly angry at the unnecessary humiliation. Of course this wasn't a date, and he hadn't treated it as such. He'd only complied with his wishes to keep him happy; it would be easier to manipulate him that way.

They began to play in complete silence, almost as if they were two strangers to any onlookers. But, as they both already knew, this was their way of communicating. The game and the silence defined them more than words.

Goro's shots started out aggressive, decisive, hitting the cue ball with completely unnecessary force. Akira, in contrast, played gently, methodically, and calculatedly, without anger. Every time the younger boy took a shot, he would look at the Detective with a charming smile, and the latter would turn his face away in disdain. Every time the older boy sank a ball, he would look at the other with smugness, only to be met with one of those stupid smiles.

Kurusu's tactic had always been the same: disarm Goro with kindness. And the Detective's hadn't changed either: he just wanted to prove he was better than him at everything. Their push-and-pull dynamic, seeing who could disarm the other first, always gave them an addictive adrenaline rush.

Little by little, as the game progressed, the tension began to lessen. Both were playing completely seriously, wanting another victory. But when the atmosphere became more amenable—that is, when Goro no longer looked like he wanted to kill him—Akira allowed himself to speak.

"Nice shot, Detective. If I miss this next one, you'll probably win again," he flattered, noting the strategic position the cue ball had landed in.

"Of course I'm going to win. Did you ever doubt it? Your technique has been mediocre from the start."

The younger boy laughed lightly at the insult, moving slowly so Goro would feel the pressure of a deliberate second meaning in his posture. The cue ball was in front of the Detective, and he was leaning against the wall, just over a meter away from the table. Kurusu positioned himself in front of Goro, getting into position to hit the ball.

"I'd better take my time. This shot is decisive, hmm?"

Goro was in shock. Akira was bent over in front of him, the small of Kurusu's back too close to his lower abdomen. He could feel the younger boy's heat radiating through his clothes. Then, he "played" his riskiest move: Akira leaned a few centimeters further back from the table, placing his rear right against Akechi's most intimate area, taking his time, just as he'd said, to hit the ball.

The Detective's body was a bundle of nerves. He was disgusted; he could feel the black-haired boy's unnecessary closeness making him want to gag. His legs trembled slightly, wanting to flee and put distance between them.

The contact, which felt almost sexual to him, was so repulsive he couldn't think of anything else.

Akira hit the ball and straightened up, glancing down at the south of Goro's body with a lopsided smile.

"Careful, Detective. You wouldn't want a public scandal," he whispered, making him notice the slight erection visible in his trousers.

Goro blushed like never before, looking away angrily and hunching over slightly to hide the growing bulge. His own body had betrayed him. It was a normal biological reaction; it didn't have to mean anything. His body had simply reacted instinctively to the friction. That had to be it. Obviously.

"You're a bastard," he muttered grudgingly before grabbing his own cue and ending the game, sinking the black ball with almost terrifying speed. Akira laughed, noticing the Detective's obvious frustration, and sat on the edge of the pool table, looking at him in disbelief.

"I'll treat you to ramen to celebrate your victory. Feel up for it?"

"I'm going home. I'm sick of you," he replied curtly, heading for the bar's exit.

Kurusu sighed and walked after him toward the subway station, in complete silence. After a few minutes of walking, he finally spoke.

"Hey, Goro... The truth is, I wanted to ask you something, you know? But since you've been in such a bad mood, I wasn't sure if I should say it."

The Detective stopped for a second and then turned to him, reluctant.

"What did you want to ask me? And it had better not be something stupid. I've already wasted enough time coming here." Goro's direct, harsh voice showed he was in no mood for games. After his body's self-betrayal, he wasn't going to put up with any more crap that night.

"What would you think if... we went... to...?"

"Dammit, Kurusu, stop stammering. You're getting on my nerves."

"I want us to go to Mementos. Together."

Goro suddenly went pale.

Why would he want something like that? The cognitive world was dangerous, in every aspect. It was much easier for his own conscience to betray him... although he had Robin Hood for that. That facade of a hero of justice would be what Kurusu wanted to see.

"Why would you want that? It makes no sense."

"Because... I want to see you."

The black-haired boy's voice sounded so sincere and anxious that Goro didn't doubt he was telling the truth. He wanted to see him—see the real him. Without a mask. Without lies. He still didn't trust him. Not completely.

"How did you know about the black mask?" Akechi asked suddenly, remembering that Kurusu had accused him without hesitation during their first argument.

"I'll tell you everything, but in Mementos. You and me. No masks. What do you say?"

"Isn't there a less dangerous place to talk? It sounds like you're trying to get us killed." He crossed his arms, suspicious of the real intentions behind the request, despite sensing it was sincere.

"I know a safe area where we could talk. I think... it'll be a chance for both of us to get the answers we want."

Both of us. He'd said both of them wanted answers. No, he still didn't trust him. That complicated the plan much more. Just when it seemed everything was going well, Goro discovered it wasn't, and it was frustrating his tortured mind to an unhealthy degree. He had to accept if he wanted to stay one step ahead of Kurusu. He had to win him over, no matter what. Akechi sighed and rolled his eyes.

"Fine. You and me. No masks. If that's what you want so badly, I accept. But don't complain if you don't like what you see when we're there."

Just as he finished that last sentence, Akira felt his heart break.

Was he really going to see something he wouldn't like? What was Goro really like? He had been asking himself that question ever since that day... He couldn't stop thinking about it. Was Goro... evil? A psychopath? A sociopath? A ruthless killer with no respect for the lives he took?

If that was the case... What were those moments when his mask seemed to disappear? When he laughed for real, when he blushed... or like the day he saw him at Leblanc, scared, on the verge of a panic attack. The tears in his eyes when he spoke of his mother, the rage when he mentioned his father… It was hard to distinguish between the truth and the act. Goro Akechi was an enigma, so mysterious that he didn't know if he felt something for him, or for someone who didn't exist.

He needed to find out. He needed to know who he was. That's why he wanted to go to the Metaverse. He wanted to see him, even if it might cost him his life or break him into a thousand pieces.

Chapter Text

It was too early, and there were too many people on the subway, so it wasn't feasible to enter the Metaverse right then. It was too dangerous.

"So, that's a yes..." Kurusu spoke, his voice trembling. "I guess that means we'll have another date, huh?" The nerves were more than noticeable in the way he spoke, despite trying to hide it.

"There was never any date, Kurusu. Don't be an idiot," Goro couldn't help but correct him, even though he could still feel the heat in his groin despite the cold street air.

The younger boy sighed and chuckled. "Why don't you accept my dinner invitation? It's still early... We can kill some time before... you know, going there."

The Detective swallowed and looked at him suspiciously. The younger boy was still pressuring him despite everything; he wasn't going to let him go just like that, not without seeing the real him.

"I'm not hungry, but I'd grab a drink before we go..." he murmured thoughtfully. "Come on, I know a place near here."

He took the lead without looking back, assuming that idiot Akira would follow him without question. He couldn't believe how someone so stupid was giving him so much trouble.

Who would be idiotic enough to go for a drink at an unknown place with someone who had tried to kill you?

He walked until he reached an unmarked door, observing the bewildered look on the other boy's face. Then, he knocked three times, and a... curious-looking woman opened the door, greeting Goro as if she'd known him all her life.

"Detective Akechi! My goodness, look how you've grown!" The woman was somewhat older, though from her attire, you could guess she made a living in the adult nightlife industry. She hugged the boy, who tensed in her arms, proving what he had already proven a thousand times: Goro was not a physical person at all.

Akira was perplexed, and the woman belatedly noticed his presence. "Oh, are you a friend of our Akechi? Little Pancake's friends are more than welcome here."

"Dammit, Yamato, enough with the nickname..." he muttered, grumpy, entering the place without another word. The woman gestured for Akira to come in, laughing. If the black-haired boy hadn't been in shock, he would have laughed at the name too, but the sheer surprise kept him from processing what was happening.

Once inside, the atmosphere was anything but a place a teenager should be. Girls walked around nearly naked, covered in scraps that could barely be called clothes; men settled onto their laps, some completely drunk, whispering obscenities to the workers...

WAS GORO A REGULAR CUSTOMER OR WHAT THE FUCK WAS GOING ON!?

"Come on, this is no place for decent young gentlemans like you. The back room is free," the woman said, guiding them down a long hallway that led to the back of the dive.

In the room, there was nothing more than a pair of expensive-looking sofas, a glass coffee table, and a small fridge. The small space smelled of alcohol and tobacco, but it was clean. Still, it wasn't a place that inspired spotlessness.

"Thanks, Yamato. We'll be gone in a couple of hours. I just wanted to get away from people for a bit," Goro admitted with a familiarity Akira had never seen in his life, not even directed at him.

The woman didn't hesitate to leave them alone, closing the door behind her. Akechi walked over to the fridge with the confidence of someone in their own home and pulled out two beers. He offered one to Akira, only then noticing his distraught expression.

"What?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Oh, nothing, just thinking about what the fuck are we doing here!" the black-haired boy exclaimed, more alarmed than surprised. "If anyone finds out I've been here, I'll be expelled! What were you thinking!? I'm on probation! Are you... are you a john? Fuck, fuck..."

The Detective couldn't help but laugh, leaving Kurusu's beer on the table before throwing himself onto one of the sofas. "No one's going to find out," he said with a sincere smile.

"How do you know? Do your girls love you so much they won't talk about this, or what?" Kurusu watched as the older boy opened the beer in his hand without remorse.

"Don't worry, Kurusu, ‘my girls’ know how to keep a secret," he continued the joke before taking a long drink of the liquid that, given his age, was more than forbidden.

The black-haired boy couldn't believe what he was seeing. Japan's perfect poster boy, sitting on a sofa in a brothel, drinking beer of dubious origin as if it were the most normal thing in the world. He hesitated for a few seconds before sitting on the sofa facing Goro's, since the other's outstretched legs prevented him from taking a seat on the same one. Once seated, he took the cold can in his hands and looked at it, silently judging Goro, who couldn't help but smile smugly and shake his head.

"You don't have to drink it if you don't want to, although they don't offer much here besides alcohol and tap water."

He still couldn't believe it, and he knew that if he asked, he wouldn't be told why he was so familiar with even what they offered clients. Was Akechi the type to pay for physical affection? It didn't suit him at all. He was too refined and stubborn for that.

"You're not going to explain why we're here, are you?"

"You heard me. We're just here to kill time," he replied, letting himself slide down the sofa until he was almost lying flat, his back propped against the armrest.

"That's not what I mean!" Kurusu was on the verge of a nervous breakdown, and the Detective couldn't help but laugh again until tears streamed down his face.

"That woman was a friend of my mother's. She watched me grow up. That's why I come by every now and then, to make sure everything here is okay and that no one is extorting them," he admitted, wiping away the tears.

"What?" The question escaped Akira's lips as a whisper.

"You heard me. To your disappointment, I'm not a regular client here. I'm not interested in those kinds of services. It's not like I'm my fath—"

His voice cut off with rage and shame. Then, Akira understood. Goro's mother had been a companion woman for real—none other than Shido's. That's why she got pregnant, why he was an unwanted child. What would public opinion have said if they found out such an important politician had gotten a whore pregnant?

Kurusu began to relax, against his better judgment. He opened the beer and sniffed it, making a disgusted face. "How can you drink this shit?" he murmured, taking a sip that confirmed the bad taste.

"It's the only thing here that doesn't taste like cheap cologne," he admitted, taking another long drink to cloud the bitterness he felt inside.

The black-haired boy watched him, noticing that since the casual mention of Shido, the older boy's smile and amused expression had vanished. He forced himself to drink the sour, flat liquid, both of them in silence for longer than necessary.

"So... Little Pancake..." he murmured, amused, with a mocking smile.

"If you dare call me that again, I'll kill you, Kurusu." The Detective's defensiveness made the younger boy laugh, who was starting to realize how funny it all was.

He couldn't believe the absurdity of the situation. He had thought Akechi was a regular client at a place like this, and it turned out to be the place where he was likely raised. That thought took the fun out of it. He looked at Goro again, wanting to say something, but it was always complicated to connect with him. He had brought him here for a reason; it couldn't just be a coincidence that they'd ended up in a place that must be like a sanctuary to him.

"Why did you bring me here?" he asked, watching him attentively.

"I guess this is the closest thing to a safe room I know in the real world," he admitted, taking another long drink of his beer, his gaze fixed on a suspicious stain on the wall.

Silence settled again. Kurusu didn't know what to say to such a harsh truth.

While Akira was frying his brain trying to decipher Goro, in the Detective's mind, there was... nothing. He wasn't thinking about anything in particular. It wasn't manipulation, it wasn't a way to appear vulnerable. It was just that—a safe place he fled to when life outside was too much. And lately, everything was too much.

After a moment that felt like an eternity, he straightened up on the sofa, sitting with his elbows on his knees and the cheap beer can between his fingers. "Why are you so dead set on seeing me?" he asked without thinking.

"Why?" Akira chuckled, still grimacing from the bitter taste on his lips. "Goro, I'm in a brothel, drinking beer—which is illegal at our age—with the person the whole country thinks is perfect and would never do anything against the law. All that, not to mention you're the same person who admitted to doing... that... to all those people, and who tried to manipulate your way into my life, God knows why..."

"That doesn't answer my question."

"It answers everything. Don't you see how hard it is to understand you? Who walks into a place like this looking for peace? Who... who feels peace in such a depressing place?"

The younger boy's question echoed in the room because of how true it was.

Who felt peace in a place full of depravity and self-loathing?

"I guess only someone like me feels at peace here," he murmured, letting his head drop slightly, hiding his self-pitying expression with his bangs.

Akira hesitated for a few seconds before getting up and moving to the sofa where Goro was slumped. He sat down next to him, their knees brushing subtly.

"What was your mother like?" he asked, afraid of setting off a bomb.

"She was... a good person," he answered, surprising Kurusu. "She was very beautiful and kind. A real star in here." His hands tightened around the nearly empty can, making it crumple.

"You miss her. That's normal, you know?"

"I don't miss her. I despise her. For leaving me here, drifting from foster home to foster home... for... for being so weak..."

There it was again—that person Akira rarely saw. The person he suspected was the real Goro.

"That's not true. You don't despise her," the younger boy clarified, placing his hand on the Detective's shoulder and giving it a gentle squeeze. "That's the pain talking, not you."

Akechi laughed cruelly and looked at Akira without moving his bangs, which almost completely covered his eyes. "You're an idiot, Kurusu. An idealist who still believes in the goodness in the hearts of the corrupt, disgusting people of this world..."

The younger boy swallowed and brought his other hand to his face, pushing his bangs aside, noticing how his eyes shined with the power of unshed tears.

"I guess I am all that and more..." he murmured, cupping his face, feeling the tension in the older boy's expression. "But you're not disgusting. You've just been corrupted. And everyone deserves a second chance."

Akira didn't hesitate to lean closer to Goro's face, resting his forehead against his, sighing painfully.

"Don't you dare talk as if you know the weight I carry, Kurusu," his voice began to sound threatening, and his whole body vibrated with a murderous urge.

"Don't you dare say you're disgusting, then. Because you're not." The black-haired boy didn't pull away, stroking Goro's jaw with his thumb, trying to calm the trembling of his tense muscles.

"Get away from me right now, or I'll break your hand," he growled from his throat, a guttural, dangerous sound echoing in the silence of the shabby room.

However, Kurusu didn't move away. He closed the distance between them, kissing him carefully, moving his lips slowly until the Detective kissed him back—though that moment didn't seem to be coming.

"You're brilliant," he whispered against his lips, between kisses. "You're the most fascinating person I know, Goro Akechi..."

There it was again, that kindness that disarmed him so much. He let out a groan from deep in his throat, and Goro then returned the kiss. His lips were trembling, and despite not moving any closer, his body felt warm. After a few seconds, he pulled away from Akira's lips, shooting up ipso facto from the cursed sofa.

"You've managed to ruin this place for me..." he murmured, making Akira smile in disbelief.

"Sorry. I shouldn't have defiled your sanctuary," his voice was ironic, as irony was the only thing he had left in moments like this.

Goro threw the empty, crushed beer can and took the half-finished one from Kurusu's fingers. He swirled the beer and downed it in a couple of gulps before throwing that one too, wiping his lips on the sleeve of his immaculate shirt.

"Let's go. There shouldn't be too many people on the street now; it's late. Let's get this Mementos shit over with already."

Chapter Text

They walked side by side, in silence, as was their custom now. Everything had gotten complicated since that day when Kurusu couldn't take it anymore and decided to tell him he knew everything. The Goro from before was false, he was sure of that, but it was easier to talk to him than with the broken teenager he knew now. In those moments, he felt like he was walking through a minefield every time he opened his mouth, so, most of the time, he decided to stay silent.

They were in front of the subway entrance when Akira took out his mobile phone with a trembling hand.

Did he really want to see him?

He looked at Akechi, who was watching him intently.

"You're scared." The Detective wasn't asking; it was a resounding affirmation.

"What would I be scared of? I've been down there a thousand times." Kurusu wanted to brush it off; he couldn't deny himself the chance to resolve his doubts, but the reality was he was terrified of seeing the real Goro Akechi.

The older boy closed the distance and touched Akira's finger, causing him to activate the app, which slowly distorted the world until they were in front of a masked face... in red.

That threw him off.

Wasn't Akechi the man in the black mask?

"How is this possible...?" he whispered, moving closer to touch Goro's mask, who, in a split second, had already pulled away.

"You should know. Igor spoke with you too, didn't he? Didn't you understand that you weren't the only one with the power to wield multiple Persona?"

Akira froze.

Goro wielded multiple Personas? Why?

The younger boy's face showed the absolute confusion he felt; he didn't need to say anything, his gaze screamed for him.

"When I arrived in the Metaverse, two Persona answered my call. I have two by default."

That seemed... Too fitting for what Akira had been thinking just before entering the Metaverse.

"Which one is the real you?"

"Both. By the way, you can call me Crow here." Akechi scanned the surroundings, paying no mind to such a stupid question, seeing enemies approaching in the distance.

"Joker..." he practically whispered, introducing himself in return.

Both. He was both.

Was that possible? What did it mean, then? Was he a good and a bad person at the same time?

"I'd love to stay here and watch those shadows devour you, but I have work tomorrow. Are we moving, or do you plan to stay here?" he spoke as cuttingly as ever.

Joker reacted, snapping out of his reverie, and grabbed Crow's arm to guide him to the safe room he had discovered last time. Mementos changed constantly, but he had begun to understand its changing patterns and more or less knew how to navigate the place.

Goro let himself be dragged by the younger boy, following him without any hope that he knew what he was doing, watching him take haphazard turns. However, the path was relatively short to the room Akira spoke of. Upon entering, it looked like they were in some kind of distorted janitor's closet. Probably one of the many in the subway.

He analyzed the place, walking slowly and silently around the area. He didn't usually stop in these places; his time in the Metaverse was a constant life-or-death struggle, there was no time for breaks. So the idea of two realities mixed together, resulting in a physical place, still fascinated him. It was ironic, to say the least.

Could he be like one of these rooms? Although, more than a safe place, his existence was pure chaos and war. Maybe he was the complete opposite.

That made more sense in his head.

He looked at Akira, who was leaning against the wall, observing him with almost clinical attention.

"If you don't speak, I'll assume you brought me here to see how good this suit looks on me," he joked with his usual abrasive sarcasm.

"I want to see the black mask," Akira said, without beating around the bush.

"That's not necessary. This is me, too."

"Go— Crow," he forced himself to correct his words; they weren't those people here, they were the real themselves, "I want to see you. Your two versions. I want to see the black mask, too. Then I'll tell you everything you want to know—how I reached that conclusion, since when I've known, everything. But you fulfill your part first."

Joker was looking at him with an intensity that was starting to make Crow uncomfortable. The older boy sighed, shaking his head.

"I'm going to end up dead sooner or later, so what does it matter?" he muttered to himself, ignoring Akira's reaction upon hearing him, whose eyes went wide as if that sentence alone had scared him. "LOKI!"

Slowly, the Crow that Joker had known began to disappear, consumed in a kind of red and black fire, revealing the true wielder of the black mask. The intimidating black and blue suit contrasted with the elegant white and gold attire from before; and what little of his face was visible through his mask-helmet was... Terrifying.

His gaze was no longer calm; it radiated hatred and pain. Even his features were harsher, more tired.

Joker approached him slowly, as if he couldn't believe what he was seeing.

"Goro...?"

Crow looked away. It had been a mistake. He didn't even know why he had exposed himself like that. It would have been much easier to refuse, but he thought this way he'd get him to trust him, giving him the advantage in this race to the finish line.

"Let's go back to reality, this is stupid." He pulled out his own phone to press the app, but Akira grabbed his wrist.

"Aren't you going to take the opportunity to ask me anything? It's... your reward. For letting me see this." Joker's voice was trembling; the fear in his eyes was visible through his mask.

"I want to know everything, then. Since when have you known? What was my mistake? Why, even knowing all, did you let me get close to you?" He paused suddenly. "Why are you looking at me like that? Do I scare you?" A nearly psychotic smile spread across his face, enjoying, in part, the control that having his opponent terrified gave him.

The hair on Joker's neck stood up. He had never seen that smile before. His trembling hand reached up to the small part of Crow's face he could touch, and he nodded.

"You scare me, more than anything in this world," he admitted, feeling his throat go dry.

The older boy took a step back, putting distance between them again. He hated when he touched him for no reason; he wanted to rip his own skin off in strips if possible, just to not feel the warmth he now felt on his cheek. The younger boy watched him, seeing how his eyes closed in disgust, how, down there, he couldn't control his purest, most genuine reactions. That hurt, more than any stab wound, more than when he felt Goro choking him in anger.

He decided to answer the rest of the questions, seeing the tension and distance between them continuing to grow dangerously with every passing second.

He explained how it all happened. How Igor told him there was another person like him with a black mask, a kindred spirit; how his slip-up, responding to Morgana's comment about getting pancakes, made him realize he had also been in the Metaverse; how from the beginning he assumed he was only getting close to him to investigate him...

He didn't know if the story about Shido was true, but it explained some things. If it was a lie, it was too elaborate and painful—why lie about something like that? Besides, the rage and pain in his eyes, the anguish radiating from him when Loki gave him power... That was impossible to fake, just as Joker couldn't fake being a natural-born leader.

No. What Goro had told him was, at minimum, a partial truth. Now that he had seen it with his own eyes, he was very clear on that.

"That's how I started to piece it all together. I won't tell you I didn't have doubts about you, but... Over time, everything started to make more and more sense," he finished his explanation, leaving Crow frozen.

After a few seconds of silence, the older boy began to laugh frantically and unhingedly, as if he had just been told the best joke of his entire existence. The black-haired boy took a step back, scared of what the other might do in this state.

"You are... intelligent, Kurusu. I can't deny it," he said, between laughs, feeling tears threatening his eyes as if he were about to collapse. It was the first time he had truly professed any kind of compliment toward the other, feeling that this whole time, the only idiot had been him. "So... that's it. I screwed up by answering Morgana, thinking he was one of your friends..." he muttered, sick of the truth.

How could he have made such a stupid mistake? Shido was right, he was nothing without his perfection; those kinds of errors were absurd for someone like him.

Joker looked at him, perplexed. He was watching darkness swallow Goro more and more. The pessimism and self-loathing were palpable in the air.

"If it's any consolation, I would have made the same mistake..." he tried to cheer him up.

"Consolation?" he asked, enraged. "Of course it's no consolation! Why would comparing me to you console me!? DAMN IT!"

He slammed the back of his fist against the wall, making Akira jump. He was on the defensive, or rather, he had given way to aggression. He knew Goro could attack at any moment.

"Are you really that afraid of me, Kurusu? Suddenly this room doesn't feel so safe anymore?" he remarked with an ironically cruel tone. "Do you know how easy it would be for me right now to just pull the trigger and finish off the only person who's been able to screw up my plans?" His voice turned dark and grim as he approached Joker, who backed away until he was completely cornered against the wall.

"That wouldn't solve anything, and you know it," he tried to summon the courage to answer him, though his voice was not at all convincing.

Crow slowly pulled out his pistol, placing it against the side of Joker's head. His expression was so manic that the younger boy didn't know what was scarier: the possibility of dying or continuing to be trapped in here with him.

"It would solve everything, you know? Absolutely everything. No one else would know what I've done, I wouldn't have anyone screwing up my life, and I certainly wouldn't have to endure one more second of the revulsion I feel acting like your damn boyfriend."

At that moment, Akira's world stopped. Revulsion? Is that what he felt when... when they had kissed? It didn't seem like it; that seemed impossible.

He guided Goro's hand, placing the pistol against his own forehead, wanting to prove it: If he shot, it was obvious he really did hate him. If he didn't... Goro must feel something. And he was sure the second option held more weight.

"Shoot then, if you have the balls, Goro Akechi. I won't be the first one you've killed, but I will be the only person who has truly seen you and not run away."

"You dare challenge me in this position? I don't know if you're being brave or foolish, Akira Kurusu."

Joker needed to think fast. He could see Crow was capable of shooting, though not out of hatred but because he was cornered. That vengeance-thirsty look said it all. That was the most dangerous thing about him: He knew he was capable of doing everything he said. And, as stupid as it was, that drew him in like a moth to a flame.

In a burst of sanity, he quickly grabbed Akechi's wrist, pushing the gun away from his forehead, and they struggled until they fell to the floor. The older boy was like a wild animal; he moved, kicked, and almost seemed to growl as Akira began to restrain him, pinning his arms against the cold tile.

"Stop! Goro, stop!"

"Let me go, damn it! You think I can't do it!? I'm going to put a fucking bullet in your damn head—!"

Goro's desperate, enraged screams were muffled against Joker's lips, who kissed him, pushing his mask up with the bridge of his nose. However, Goro didn't yield, not this time. He wasn't going to allow him another victory. He bit the black-haired boy's lip so hard it bled, yet he didn't stop kissing him. Tears streamed down Akira's face, anxious from the situation.

"Please, stop..." he implored him, speaking against his lips in desperation. "Stop, you still have time... If you won't do it for me, do it for yourself, Goro. Save yourself... Get away from this pain... You could have friends, love, whatever you wanted... You just have to stop..."

The Detective felt the other's hot tears falling on his face, even tasted them on his lips. It only generated more rage in him.

"FRIENDS? LOVE? TO HELL WITH THAT!"

"GORO, DAMN IT!" Akira gripped his wrists tighter, slamming them against the floor.

"I'm going to be completely honest with you, Kurusu: I hate you. I hate you from the depths of my being. And as soon as you let me go, I plan to finish you off once and for all!"

It hurt.

It hurt so much to say that.

Why did it hurt so much?

"You don't hate me," Kurusu refuted, almost strengthless. He couldn't take the pain in his chest anymore; the feeling of contempt was so strong it burned.

"I hate you!" Goro shouted again and, taking advantage of the lack of strength, he gained control of the situation. In a second, Akira was under him, and Akechi was pinning his wrists to the floor, their positions reversed. However, Kurusu was no longer fighting. He just sobbed and looked at him, absolutely hurt.

"Have you resigned yourself to dying here? YOU'RE PATHETIC."

Joker shook his head, whimpering. Who was this monster in front of him? Goro was right: He didn't like what he had just seen.

The older boy looked to the side, where his pistol was, and let go of Kurusu to try and grab it, but the latter hugged him with his legs and arms, preventing him from moving.

"You're an impeccable actor, Goro, I'll give you that... but you haven't been able to fake everything..." he sobbed into his neck, hiding his face from the demon moving on top of him like a caged animal.

Crow struggled, although exhaustion and the loss of adrenaline took their toll on his rebellious spirit after a few minutes. It was then that their gazes met again, finally able to process what was happening.

"I'm... sick of this..." the Detective confessed.

He wasn't referring to Kurusu specifically, and the latter understood immediately. He looked at him like one sees a small, lost child looking for help. There it was, the mask had finally broken.

"Of what?"

"Of you."

"That's a lie."

"Fuck, just shut up already and kiss me, you fucking idiot."

Those words were more than enough for Akira to do it without thinking. The kiss was anxious, messy; both their lips trembled, and the tears now falling down both their faces mixed into the taste of the kiss, making it salty and, in large part, bitter.

Neither had experience in this. The clumsy movements to undress proved they had never been in such an intimate situation in their lives. Akira accidentally ripped the opening of Goro's jumpsuit, and Goro practically tore the buttons off his shirt. The Detective kissed and bit his neck furiously, as if with that act he were releasing some kind of pain from within.

"I've got you... I'm here... It's okay..." Kurusu whispered in his ear, forcing him to lessen the intensity of the bite.

"Shut up, don't talk anymore," Goro answered, getting on his knees between his legs.

Akira immediately understood that Akechi, as much as he was surrendering, was not surrendering to him. This made him lie back completely, looking toward the wall to his left with disappointment. He had been so close to truly seeing him. Or maybe he had, but he expected something so different that he couldn't help but feel disappointed. He was betting more on the second option at this point. He expected to see Akechi's goodness, or rather, he needed to; and he had only seen his profound hatred for the world, including himself.

"Why are you so... still?" The older boy didn't understand why everything was suddenly so calm.

"Do you really want to do this? Like this? After having exclaimed thirty times that you were going to kill me and confessing that you hate me..."

Akechi grabbed his face hard, looking him in the eyes.

"Are you asking me to stop?"

"No, because if you want to do it, you'll do it anyway, right?"

That sentence made Goro turn pale, and he slowly let go of the younger boy's face, able to connect in his mind what he was being accused of. Did he really think he would be capable of forcing him? He didn't know why he was surprised; Goro was a murderer and had confessed it to him about a month before. Of course he thought that.

"It's true, if that would make me win against Shido, I'd do it without hesitation. But that's not the case."

Kurusu grabbed him by the neck and pulled him in to kiss him once more, with the same messiness and anxiety as before, but more controlled.

"I want you to want to do this, not for your plan, but because you really want to..."

Goro laughed, resting his forehead against Akira's with more force than necessary.

"Are you asking me what I really want? I want to shatter you into a thousand pieces and put you back together, over and over again..." he whispered with a trembling voice, unconsciously brushing his erection against Akira's.

"Fuck..." the younger boy moaned, arching his back slightly. "That... That's not very normal..."

The sensations were overstimulating Kurusu, who had laced his free hand into the Detective's hair.

"Being with me only has one outcome," he panted into Joker's neck. "Pain and more pain... I'm going to break you so many times... that no one will recognize you..."

The Detective was supporting himself on one hand while using the other to start masturbating both their members at the same time, pressing them against each other. The conversation died between moans and gasps from both of them, their mouths finding each other again until they discovered the perfect rhythm.

"Goro..." Akira moaned into his lips, bringing him almost to an instant collapse.

"Akira... Fuck..."

Their names had never sounded more beautiful than when they heard the other moan them with a desire they hadn't yet put a name to.

Chapter Text

The room was in complete silence; only the ragged breaths of two teenagers who had just reached the purest ecstasy could be heard.

Joker could feel the cold floor on his back, the smell of sweat in the air, Goro's accelerated breathing on his lips... His own body trembled from the orgasm, panting slightly as he felt the Detective draw out the pleasure a little longer with slow movements after finishing. Crow felt his hand warm, both fluids mixed on his skin like a "gift" for having lost control completely. As soon as he could connect with reality, he quickly moved away from the younger boy and looked with deep disgust at his defiled hand.

What the fuck had he done? How had he gotten to this point?

He needed to clean himself urgently. He quickly grabbed his own underwear, using it as a simple cloth. He felt like gagging; he wanted to vomit just thinking about what he had done.

Akira watched him, sitting on the floor, seeing how the other began to scrub his skin with the fabric almost obsessively, leaving the area red. He realized that, no matter how hard he tried, Goro still felt disgusted by physical contact. It seemed like they took one step forward and five steps back. The silence was so heavy that Joker didn't dare move. He let Crow finish cleaning himself and get dressed. He didn't look directly at him; there was no exchange of words, nor an apology for having tried to kill him, just for a change.

When Goro finished getting dressed—halfway, since the zipper of his jumpsuit was broken—he sighed. He felt his hands trembling as he put away his pistol, as if still doubting whether to do it, whether to follow through on his threat. He turned his back to Kurusu, looking toward the exit. If he spent two more seconds there, he would do it, without a doubt.

"Don't ever talk about this. It didn't happen. It won't happen again. It was a terrible mistake that will probably cost me my life."

After that, he left. Without another word. Leaving Kurusu sitting there, naked and completely broken. His mouth tasted like blood, his lip was swollen, and his heart... Completely broken. It was then he realized something that now seemed obvious: Goro wasn't a good person. But he wasn't bad, either. He hadn't been taught to accept love; he hadn't learned to feel in a positive way. And that was very dangerous, extremely dangerous.

What could he do?

His plan had failed spectacularly. Ann was the only one who knew he was there with Goro. While she insisted to simply investigate and report him to the police, he was determined to save the Detective's soul. Goro was a victim. No one doubted that. But Akira... He had seen something more. He had seen with his own eyes what he was capable of.

He got dressed, replaying what had happened in his head over and over: The hatred he had seen with his eyes, the need in Goro's kiss... His thoughts were a pendulum, hearing the older boy moaning his name and, at the same time, hearing him scream that he hated him. Goro Akechi made no sense in himself. He was obviously collapsing; the pressure was getting to him.

Now he had even more doubts than before.

Once in the real world, Goro was no longer at the subway station. He had left without waiting for him. It was likely he wouldn't hear from him again until the final confrontation.

Back in his attic, the room was spinning. Morgana woke up as soon as he heard him, looking at him from the shadows.

"Akira! What happened to you? Your lip is split!" the feline exclaimed, climbing onto his lap as soon as he sat down.

"Don't worry, it's nothing serious. I just... I just want to sleep."

He didn't even bother to change out of his daily clothes. He curled up in bed, pulling his knees to his chest, and shut his eyes tightly. He needed to sleep, to stop thinking, to stop... remembering Goro on top of him, touching him, making him moan.

Morgana didn't press him. It was obvious something serious had happened, something really serious, but he decided to respect his leader's apparent grieving and give him space. He knew he would talk when he felt ready, and now was not the time.

Across town, the scene was much less calm. The Detective was in the middle of his living room, his apartment practically destroyed. Decorations had been thrown to the floor, several walls had bloody fist marks, the small coffee table was overturned, and he was sitting on the armchair, breathing so fast he was dizzy.

He felt revulsion for Akira, for himself, for the situation that had just occurred a few hours earlier.

"Damn Kurusu, why did I let you get into my head? I should have killed him, I should have ended this, fuck, fuck, FUCK!"

He was desperate. He had failed. Again. And again, and again, and again...

Why was he so weak when it came to him? Why, instead of shooting him, did he lose control and do... that? He didn't even dare to put a name to what had happened. He touched the wounds on his rarely-bare fists and squeezed, feeling a sharp pain. He had likely fractured a knuckle.

He had to change his strategy. He was incapable of dominating Akira, no matter how hard he tried. That left him only one option: Continue with Shido's plan, not hesitate, and finish off Okumura before anyone could suspect he was acting in the shadows. After that, there would only be one loose end to tie up: Akira. Two more victims, only two. And, finally, Shido's time would come. The moment he had prepared for his entire life.

It had been a week and a half since that encounter, time in which Goro felt that, by distancing himself from Akira, he was becoming himself again. He worked, studied, and investigated Okumura with precocious speed, wanting to end it as soon as possible. There was no exchange of messages with Akira. Every time his phone rang, he knew it must be work. At least until that afternoon, when the younger boy's name appeared on his screen.

Kurusu: Are you okay?

Kurusu: I made coffee for you. I hope you come today.

Block contact.

He didn't want to know anything more about him; he refused to play that stupid game again. He would stick to his goal. This time he wouldn't fail. While Akechi "regained" control of his life, Akira was losing his completely. He barely spoke to his friends, hadn't returned to Mementos, and purposefully ignored the requests on the website. He seemed like a zombie, performing his tasks mechanically.

Everyone had asked about his lip as soon as they saw him. He didn't have the courage to admit what happened. Only Ann knew about his plan, so she was the only one who didn't pressure him. She knew about Akira's feelings for Goro, even if she didn't understand them, and if something bad had happened—as it seemed—the leader was going to need a few days to process it. However, a few days turned into almost two weeks, where Kurusu seemed to get more and more lost in his own world.

One afternoon, the whole team, plus the recent addition, Haru, went to Leblanc. Akira was alone in the café, about to close. He looked at them, not understanding what was happening. In the background, a late-night interview with the "Detective Prince" was playing; he was smiling on the screen with his usual elegance.

Ann turned off the television, furious at just seeing the face of the one who had caused her friend's depression.

"We're going to talk, Akira. Whether you want to or not," the blonde said, leaving no room for refusal.

"Yeah, man, we're sick of not knowing what's going on. You show up one day with a split lip and suddenly you're not interested in Mementos anymore? What's happening?" Ryuji was as lost as the rest.

"You can count on us, Akira, you're not alone," Makoto clarified who, despite not knowing anything, guessed who the situation involved, given how perceptive she was.

Haru approached the bar, looking at him with compassion.

"I know I'm new here, I haven't known you all for long, but... You can trust me too, Kurusu."

He had friends he didn't deserve. That was obvious. He nodded, taking off his apron and heading to one of the booths. When he sat down, he began to drum his fingers on the freshly cleaned wood, thinking about what to say.

"Are you going to talk or...?" muttered Futaba, who was already starting to get desperate.

"I don't know where to start..."

"From the beginning," Yusuke added, pointing out the obvious without intending to sound harsh.

The leader took a breath and looked at all of them, feeling the shame of having to share something that felt like a betrayal.

"I know who is behind... the mental shutdowns."

Everyone exclaimed in surprise in unison, except Ann. Ryuji grabbed his arm with a smile.

"Dude! That's great! Now we can try to report him and clear our names! You have to tell Detective Akechi! See if that pompous idiot will stop messing with us..."

Akira looked away, frowning and pressing his lips into a thin line. Makoto put her hand on Ryuji's shoulder and shook her head, letting him know it wasn't that simple, given their leader's reaction.

"What's wrong? Why aren't you happy? We can save us..." Ryuji insisted, somewhat lost.

"Because the culprit is Goro Akechi," Ann added, fed up with the uncertainty Akira was creating.

Everyone looked at her and then focused back on Akira.

"And why do only you know?" the blonde guy asked, clearly offended not to have known this information sooner.

Akira didn't want to talk about it; his throat ached from the effort of even trying.

"Because I... had a plan... and..."

"Akira, why did you hide this information from us? We wouldn't have left you alone with that criminal."

Criminal. Yusuke had referred to Goro as that, making Akira slam his palms on the table.

"He's not a criminal! The culprit is someone else. He's just a pawn in his game, he's scared and submerged in his own misery... Damn it, Goro isn't bad! I've seen him!"

Everyone looked at Akira with disbelief, some feeling pity for him, others simple, pure disappointment. Makoto shook her head, clearly in the second group.

"He's a murderer, Akira. How can you defend him?"

"You have no idea... You don't know how scared he is, the fear he has of... him..."

"Who is 'him'?" Haru asked.

"His father... Masayoshi Shido... He... Damn it, he's the villain, not Goro."

They all looked at each other. Akira was about to collapse. They didn't understand anything, least of all why Akira was so fervently defending a murderer. However, Ann knew. She was the only one, besides Morgana, who knew about the kiss and the leader's true feelings. She approached Akira and put her hand on his shoulder, wanting to comfort him.

"Akira, you know I never oppose your plans, no matter how crazy, but this is getting dangerous... Goro is getting into your head, in a very toxic way. He may be a victim, but he is not good."

Akira exploded, shrugging the blonde girl's hand off his shoulder with some violence.

"He is not dangerous!"

"Akira. He tried to strangle you. And I know what happened to your lip was him too, without you having to tell me." The girl didn't back down, revealing that truly violent information to everyone which left them speechless.

"That bastard did what?" Ryuji snapped, his voice trembling in rage.

"I provoked him, it wasn't his fau—"

"You didn't do anything, you just ki—"

An uncomfortable silence fell over the bar. Akira looked at Ann, begging her for silence. She didn't know what to do; everyone was looking at her, waiting to know what information she had and why the rest of them didn't.

"Akira, we have always stood by you. You know that. But it won't stay that way if you hide information from us. We are a team," Makoto was the voice of reason above all, despite not being the leader.

And then, the leader crumbled. He sat in the booth, his face in his hands, trembling with rage and frustration.

"I want to help him... I know that if we help him, he could... start over," he murmured, on the verge of bursting into tears.

"He has murdered people, Akira. How do you start over after that?" Yusuke asked, feeling true pity for the black-haired boy's good but broken heart.

"Please, give me just one more chance... One... Just one..."

Futaba took out her laptop and placed it on the table, diverting everyone's gaze to her. Even though Akira hadn't ordered anything, she was already investigating Shido, and it all made sense. Every dead person, every mental shutdown, had helped Shido increase in popularity or wealth. Except for her mother, whom she still didn't understand how she fit into the equation.

"Akira, you have two days to pull yourself together. After that, we continue with Okumura's mission. We can't waste any more time playing savior to anyone." Futaba's voice sounded rough. She couldn't get the image of Akechi ending her innocent mother's life out of her head. "I hope you understand why I am not going to support you in the idea of saving a murderer. But I'm not going to abandon you, either. I just ask that you leave me out of everything that has to do with him..."

The young woman got up and left Leblanc, leaving everyone in silence until Makoto broke it.

"If he's the cause of those deaths... You know he killed Wakaba, right?"

"No! He said she was already dead when he showed up!" Akira panicked.

"Dude... I don't want to be the one to tell you but... I don't believe him..." Ryuji spoke, almost afraid of another explosion, but everyone agreed with the blonde for once.

"Ryuji's right. It's very likely a lie..." Ann was the first to agree.

"No... He..." He couldn't say that Goro wouldn't lie to him. He wanted to say it, but he couldn't. The only thing he  had done was lie, over and over, until the pressure got to him.

"Dude, this is... a mess..." the blonde guy sighed, somewhat uncomfortable. "I'm leaving... I don't know how to take this..."

That cued almost everyone else to leave Leblanc. Akira's lost and devoted gaze toward someone like that was very disturbing. It didn't seem like him. Akechi was consuming him.

"Two days. Futaba is right. We can't waste any more time. If you don't come... we'll do it ourselves," Makoto said before accompanying Haru out, leaving Akira with Morgana, in complete silence.

The cat sat on the table, watching him intently.

"Akira... I know you don't want to hear this but... That guy is killing you..." Morgana muttered, truly worried. "You're not sleeping well, your grades have dropped, and you seem like someone else... Don't let his darkness consume you..."

After that, Morgana also abandoned him, leaving through the Leblanc window toward Sojiro's house, where he had been sleeping with Futaba lately.

The leader had never felt so alone. He went up to the attic and lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. This must be how Goro felt every day, right? He hadn't understood what it meant to carry the weight of a grave secret on your back, knowing that no one who finds out will accept you for it, until that moment. However, he accepted him. As much as it wasn't right, as immoral as it was.

He accepted Goro.

Chapter Text

A few weeks later, Goro had figured out the perfect way to get rid of Kurusu’s pathetic little group and his friends. He followed them until he found their whereabouts in the Metaverse, discovering their mission to change Okumura's heart—a truly enriching endeavor. What a coincidence that this suited him just fine. If he could make it look like they had murdered the man, it would all be over. He could expose them to the law and have the opportunity to get Akira out of the way.

His hair stood on end at the thought of how it would feel to shoot Kurusu right in the middle of the forehead, how much euphoria it would cause him to watch his lifeless body drop to the ground… The tears streaming down his face as he sat alone on his sofa were tears of pure emotion. 

The apartment was back in order, his knuckles, still bandaged, were healing, and he was back to being the goddamn "Detective Prince." He had never felt so good, despite the near-constant ache in his chest.

It was night, and the stillness was starting to get to him. For some unknown reason, he felt a certain anxiety. Maybe it was nerves; it wasn't long until the final stage of his plan would begin.

He decided to put on his sportswear, grab his headphones, and go for a run. The fresh air would do him good. Besides, he hadn't trained in days; it would be great to release some energy.

With the most aggressive and depressing rock music blaring in his ears, he ran through the dark city, never stopping to catch his breath. He didn't slow his pace until he felt his lungs practically escaping through his mouth, almost vomiting in the middle of the path. He looked up, his vision a little blurry, realizing he was in the middle of Inokashira Park. The place had a somewhat gloomy and dark atmosphere at night, although he could see a couple talking on a bench in the distance, apparently just hanging out.

The girl laughed and shoved the boy, probably flirting shamelessly. He continued with a quick step, looking at his phone to find a slightly more relaxed song. As he passed behind the couple's bench, the male laugh caught his attention, forcing him to take off his headphones.

“I told you it wasn't scary at night. This is better than another night of insomnia,” the young, blonde, blue-eyed woman joked.

“You were right, Ann, I needed to get out of the attic...”

Kurusu? With Ann? Were they... on a date? What was he seeing?

His hands were trembling, and he suddenly ran out of breath. After what had happened...

A feeling far too similar to jealousy settled in his chest.

“Hey... How are you feeling? Do you want to talk about him?” The girl’s question made Akechi quickly hide behind a tree. He figured he was about to be the subject of that conversation, and that interested him for the mission.

Only for the mission, of course.

“I don't know... It's still a little hard for me to talk about all that...” The younger boy ran a hand through his hair, messing it up even more.

“Have you heard anything from him?”

“I think he blocked my contact. I’ve sent him fifty messages, but not one is getting through.”

“That guy is an idiot, Akira. You’re too good for someone like him.”

Goro almost tore the bark off the tree with his fingernails from the rage he felt hearing that accusation.

“He is... complicated, Ann. He’s the most tenacious and, possibly, the most stubborn person I know. And even though almost all of it was a lie... he made me feel good, understood. It’s as if, despite everything, I feel like we’re two sides of the same coin... I don’t know, it’s absurd.”

Goro ran out of air.

That is what the younger boy thought of him? Seriously? How wrong he was. At least he knew how absurd it was—he’d said so himself.

“I don’t get it. I don’t know what’s so special about a guy who has done such horrible things... I still find it hard to accept that you're in love with someone like that...”

The words “in love” hit both boys equally hard. Both paled, their hearts racing.

“I never said I was in love with him,” the leader corrected her quickly.

“You don't have to say it. Your Sherlock has you sighing like a teenager.” Ann playfully nudged him, half-laughing at Akira.

The black-haired boy nervously played along, trying to ease the tension by massaging his neck.

“I don’t know if I’d call this love, honestly. It feels more like an endless war.”

Goro couldn't stop listening, leaning with his back against the tree bark that concealed him. He should leave; that was the reasonable thing to do. He didn’t care what Akira felt, but... he had a curiosity that was too powerful.

Was the leader in love with him?

He didn't see that as possible, not after everything that had happened.

“That’s because you are always at war,” the girl replied with an almost painful certainty.

“If I could just get through to him and make him understand that life isn't a battlefield, that... he has us...”

“He has you, don’t drag the group into this, especially when we don’t know for sure if he killed Wakaba.”

Ah, that name. Goro remembered it very well. He had told Akira she was already dead by the time he entered Shido's plan, but the reality was different. That woman had been his first victim. He knew he couldn't tell him if he wanted Akira to trust him at the time, so he obviously lied. As with everything.

“Ann... I don’t know if you’re trying to cheer me up or make me more depressed...” Akira chuckled, pulling his legs onto the bench to hug them to his chest. “I miss him, you know? Sometimes I remember when we would just play videogames in my room or he’d quietly drink coffee at Leblanc... God, damn Goro...”

From the black-haired boy's voice, the Detective intuited that he was going to cry, or at least was close to it. His heart clenched.

“Akira, you have to get over it... We're supposedly trying to put an end to his plan. You know he’s going to jail, right? That... no matter how much you try, he has no escape.” Ann felt genuine pity for her friend, but she had to be the anchor to reality that he needed; she couldn't let him dwell on possibilities that wouldn't happen only to sink further.

“Shido is the one who deserves to be in jail, not him. How old would he have been when he started doing those things? Sixteen? Seventeen? He was a damn kid, Ann...”

“You’re right that he was too young and, deep down, he still is. He’s only a year older than us...” The blonde sighed, placing her hands on Akira’s knees to give him emotional support. “But he’s no saint either. He tried to kill you. Twice, according to what you told me. And I don’t know what else happened down there, but I think that wasn't the worst part... That guy doesn't deserve you.”

He didn't deserve him? What was the blonde girl thinking to say such an idiotic thing? Akira should feel proud that Goro ever returned a kiss, even if it was a total and complete miscalculation. The Detective couldn't believe what he was hearing.

“If he’d just let you guys get to know him, you'd see what I see... I’m sure of it...” Akira sighed, his voice breaking.

Akechi swallowed hard and decided to leave the place. He didn't understand why he had stayed for so long, but a bittersweet feeling settled in his chest. It was time to go home.

He slowly moved away from the tree, careful not to be seen, but, to his bad luck, he stepped on a branch on the ground, making it snap, and immediately, the two teenagers were looking at him.

There wasn't much light; the path was only illuminated by the full moon. The Detective looked like a ghost in the middle of the night, and Akira went as pale as one.

“What are you doing here?” Ann asked defensively.

“What the hell does it matter to you?” he retorted, even more aggressively. He no longer had to show perfection with them; it didn't matter anymore.

She went to stand up, but the leader stopped her, grabbing her arm. He implored her with his eyes not to seek trouble with Goro; he couldn't bear another unnecessary confrontation. The girl nodded and sighed, crossing her arms like a petulant child.

Akechi didn't know what to do for a few seconds. Exposed and now angry, he turned around, ready to leave, though someone grabbed his arm, and before looking, he already knew who it was.

Without turning his face, he spoke.

“What do you want, Kurusu?”

“Did you block me on your phone?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re a mistake, a nuisance.”

Several seconds of absolute silence passed before he spoke again.

“Goro, you still have time...”

The Detective pulled his hand off his arm with more force than necessary, and Ann immediately got up from the bench to stand protectively behind Akira.

“Think about yourself, you’re a mess. I don't need anyone to save me.”

“Come to Leblanc tomorrow! I'll have your coffee ready!” the black-haired boy exclaimed, watching intently as he walked away.

Goro's hands were trembling again, and his heart was racing a mile a minute. Damn it, why did he have such a horrible feeling in his chest? Why did he want to go back? He hated him. He hated him so much that his body was begging him to end everything once and for all. It must be that.

“He's not going, Akira.”

“He will come. I’ve seen that face before. He can't leave a mystery unsolved.”

“And what mystery is unsolved?”

“Me.” The conviction on Akira's face drew a smile onto his own.

He hadn't expected to see Goro again; he thought he would have to limit himself to seeing him on television, but there he was. The Detective was running from the situation, and, according to his body language, Kurusu knew he didn't want to.

He would come to Leblanc. Sooner or later.

He knew it.

Chapter Text

The next day was torture. Goro paced his apartment like a cornered animal. It was a bad day to have nothing to do. He cleaned the apartment, tried to cook without success, and took a shower so long that his fingertips wrinkled and the water froze his bones... He didn't know what else to do to wipe Kurusu's invitation from his head.

He had to admit one thing: despite hating him, he had also become hooked on his presence. Competing with Akira was certainly fun; he was the only person capable of keeping up with him, even if he was stupider than Goro.

He ran a load of laundry, hung up the clothes, and dusted the shelves for the second time.

Maybe he could go for a simple coffee at Leblanc, or some curry... His stomach growled. After burning the rice, he was out of food. Goro was a terrible cook.

No. He couldn't go.

He sat on the sofa and picked up his phone, aimlessly surfing the Internet. Then, he opened his messaging app. If he unblocked Akira, he might be able to read the messages the other boy had sent him... Or so he thought. He didn't know why he wanted to read them, but something told him there might be important information in one of them. Or perhaps he was just deceiving himself to find an excuse.

Unblock.

His screen started filling up with messages from the past few weeks.

Kurusu: Just wanted to know how you were doing.

Kurusu: I see you blocked me, so nice…

Kurusu: I can’t stop thinking about what happened in Mementos. I need to talk about it with someone, but no one would understand, only you.

Kurusu: I’m alone in my room... When I think about you, I want to cry and touch myself... It's absurd. 

That last message left him speechless. It seemed Kurusu took it for granted that he would never read them, because the following messages only worsened the heat that was starting to build up in Goro's trousers.

Kurusu: I wish I could hear you say my name like that again... Thinking about it makes me want to cum...

Kurusu: If you were here, it would be better; nothing feels the same since I know what your hands feel like on me.

The next message had arrived about ten minutes later, so Goro knew ipso facto what was happening in Akira’s room at that moment.

Kurusu: I miss you, Goro, I hope you’re well wherever you are.

He decided not to read any further; those pathetic and utterly inappropriate messages had just made his erection more than noticeable. God, what was wrong with his head? He threw the phone to one side of the sofa and lowered his hand to his lower abdomen, stroking the pulsating bulge of desire. He slipped his fingers into his underwear, starting to move his hand up and down, stimulating his cock.

He picked up the phone again with his free hand, without thinking—what else might he have said?

Kurusu: Another night alone... Thinking about you...

Kurusu: If you ever read this, you’re going to really want to kill me, but thinking about that day drives me crazy...

Kurusu: Do you think of me that way too? I doubt it.

Kurusu: I want to moan your name into your mouth again... Damn it...

Akechi couldn't take it anymore. He dropped the phone again, and with his now free hand, he covered his mouth, avoiding moaning the name of the person he hated the most as he reached his climax. The pristine apartment now felt dirty, profaned by a disgusting and vile act. He gasped, nearly out of breath, looking at his hand now sticky with himself, and, when he understood what he had done, he frowned with rage.

“Damn it, damn it, damn it...” he muttered, echoing in the silence of his solitude. “I’m screwed... I’m completely screwed because of you, Kurusu, you must be happy...”

A weary smile spread across his face, finally understanding what was happening without wanting to admit it out loud.

He went to the bathroom, washed his hands almost frantically, and decided to do something he truly hadn't expected: He was going to Leblanc. He dressed presentably, as always. Well, actually, more than usual. He put on a red button-up shirt, black trousers, and his daily tie. It was hot—it was almost summer—so he symmetrically rolled up his shirt sleeves.

The subway ride was disgusting, full of sweaty people, increasing the heat in the air. He felt his fringe slightly damp on his forehead, and the sensation overstimulated him.

During the journey of just over an hour, several fascinated fans stopped him, wanting a photo or simply wishing to chat with him, offering encouragement for his case. He always had to fake perfection and friendliness.

He was fed up. With all of them.

When he reached the door of Leblanc, it took him a few minutes to muster his courage.

The bell above the door announced his entry, and he heard a tray fall to the floor.

“Kid, honestly! You're so distracted lately, at this rate I'm going to have to charge you for every broken glass!” Sojiro exclaimed, reprimanding Kurusu, who was already quickly picking up the things from the floor.

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to,” he replied, unconcerned, with a sincere smile.

The loud impact had made the sound of the bell imperceptible, so Goro had to make himself known.

“Good afternoon, Sojiro, I'll have the usual,” he said after clearing his throat, plastering a perfect smile on his face.

Akira turned around slowly, seeing how the "ghost" from the night before materialized in front of him, more handsome and elegant than ever.

“Good afternoon, Detective. Haven't seen you around here for a while,” the man replied, already working on his famous coffee.

“I've been very busy lately. I was passing by and didn't want to miss the opportunity to have a coffee at my favorite café,” he said, smiling, ignoring the gaze of the boy who watched him like a deer mesmerized by headlights.

“Kurusu! The tables! Customers don't have all day,” Sojiro exclaimed, snapping the younger boy out of his reverie.

The coffee was served in a few minutes, and Goro removed his gloves to feel the warmth of the cup between his bruised fingers from the previous night. The aroma, as always, was perfect, and the flavor was exquisite.

He saw an elderly couple playing chess behind him, happy to spend time together. It wasn't the first time he had seen them; they were regular customers. They often had "dates" there, doing activities together in addition to eating and drinking something.

How long had it been since he played chess? He couldn't remember the last time. He enjoyed those types of games; they isolated him from the outside world. For a few seconds, he pictured himself in that couple, playing chess with Kurusu, and couldn't help but smile, though he immediately suppressed it, refocusing on the taste of his hot drink.

The couple left, and he remained there, reading the newspaper as the liquid slowly diminished in his small cup.

Sojiro was telling Akira that he had an important date; apparently, he was taking Futaba to Akihabara to spend time together. He was excited. He looked like a first-time father trying to connect with a difficult teenager. The older man said goodbye to those present and left, leaving the two young men alone. Goro didn't look at Akira; he continued pretending to read the newspaper, though the black-haired boy approached behind the counter, pushing the paper aside with two fingers.

“You’re here.”

“I see you have good eyesight despite those fake glasses,” he replied sarcastically, making Kurusu laugh.

“I knew you would come.”

“I only came for the coffee.”

“Of course. You always come for the coffee.” Kurusu decided to act normal, although internally he couldn't stop thinking about everything he wanted to say but couldn't.

While the younger boy was cleaning some glasses, Goro had already finished his coffee. It was time to leave. The Detective pulled out his wallet, ready to pay, and paused in thought.

“Is there any curry left? I’m getting hungry.”

“Sure. Let me heat you up a serving.”

Chapter Text

It was curious to find himself sitting there again, drinking the coffee he knew so well and eating a dish whose taste he had already memorized. He ate and drank in silence, enjoying the sudden sense of normalcy in the atmosphere. Akira was drying glasses and organizing the shelves with a slight nervousness. Goro knew him; he knew that when Akira got tense, he needed to do something; he couldn't sit still.

However, to the Detective's surprise, the ache in his chest had stopped. Perhaps he just needed caffeine, or eating something and getting out of the house had helped calm his breathing. It didn't matter, and he wasn't going to overthink it. He looked at his cell phone, analyzing the fluctuations of the Metaverse on his MetaNav, trying to figure out if, based on the energy shown, he could discover if Akira's idiot friends had changed anything inside the Palace. He hadn't perceived anything yet, so he would continue waiting.

“Hey, Goro...” Akira murmured from the other side of the bar, as far away from Akechi as possible.

The Detective looked at him, raising an eyebrow.

“Thank you... for coming.” He didn't actually want to say that; he wanted to ask about Mementos, talk about what had happened that day, and understand why Goro had run away, but... he didn't dare. Talking about it suddenly was an uncomfortable thought, even though he had been brave enough to send those messages, believing Akechi would never read them.

“You sound very obliging. Just so you know, I don't plan on leaving a tip,” the older boy replied plainly, fixing his gaze back on his phone.

Akira smiled and shook his head. Damn Goro, never accepting even half a compliment, huh? After a long silence, the black-haired boy couldn't take it anymore.

“Why did you come?”

“Because I was hungry.” He couldn't say it was a lie.

“Really? Or is there another reason?” The younger boy's voice trembled with indecision. He didn't want to hear any more hurtful words, but he needed to know if there was a minimal chance to cling to hope.

“Nope. No other reason. The curry is decent, and the coffee is exquisite. Plus, the prices are really low. It's all advantages.”

His voice was so professional and analytical that it seemed unbelievable they had the chaotic relationship they did.

“Right...” Akira muttered, anxiously looking at the floor while running his long fingers through his fringe. “Hey... Are you still... still working with Shido...? I mean... You still... hate me.”

“Obviously.”

“Then... Tell me the truth...” He swallowed, holding back the tears in his eyes as he looked at Goro. “Was anything between us real?”

“No.” Goro answered too quickly, as if that response had been rehearsed for months, which, in fact, it had been.

Akira looked away, fixing his gaze on the empty milk crates hidden under the counter.

“Well... Then there's nothing left to say... I guess that's how things are.”

Silence fell again, but it was no longer comfortable; it was burdened by the weight of so many unsaid things.

“It's likely that the next time we see each other, it'll be a life-or-death situation, you know?” the younger boy murmured, so quietly that it barely sounded like he was speaking to Goro.

“It's probable,” the Detective replied, putting away his phone. “Any last wishes, Kurusu? Because I'm not planning on losing again.”

Akira smiled, though it wasn't genuine; sadness emanated from his fake cheerful expression.

“Do you fancy one last competition? Videogames, billiards...” He glanced at the chessboard that was frequently lent to the elderly couple. “Or a game of chess? I saw you watching Mrs. Tanaka play with her husband earlier...”

That, in part, excited the older boy, who immediately made eye contact with Kurusu, raising his eyebrows with wide eyes. The black-haired boy cracked a smile.

“Damn it...” the teenager muttered, swallowing hard. He couldn't handle those reactions from Goro; they were too adorable, too human... He was supposed to hate him, not feel butterflies in his stomach. “Set up the board, I'm going to pour more coffee.”

Goro acted quickly, moving toward the table where the game had been left and placing the heavy plastic pieces in the correct order, right in the middle of each square.

Which of the two kings would be in checkmate first? Obviously Akira's. He doubted he was as good as Goro.

After a few minutes, the black-haired boy approached with a sweetened latte, just the way the Detective liked it, and a slightly more bitter one for himself.

“Who starts?”

“You start. That way you'll have a minimal chance of winning.” His voice was so cutting that it concealed his excitement—he would never admit that out loud.

The game began, and with it, silence reigned. Leblanc had turned into a sixty-four square, two-color battlefield. Akira’s moves were clumsy and somewhat careless; Goro’s moves were to kill, leaving no open flank for his opponent to take the lead. After approximately nine turns, the younger boy made a grave mistake, leaving his king unprotected. Goro smiled cruelly, advancing his bishop.

“Checkmate, Kurusu.”

His voice was triumphant. Adrenaline from the win coursed through his veins. It was likely that, as Kurusu had said, the next time they saw each other would be life or death, so this was the last chance to show him that Goro was better than him—at everything. Even chess. The black-haired boy nodded and sighed, knocking his own king over with one finger.

“You won, Goro. Congratulations.”

His voice sounded flat, reluctant to say anything more. He was disappointed, he didn't know if it was with Akechi or with himself. They were mortal enemies, or soon would be... Well, they practically were already; Goro had tried to kill him twice. Why was he sitting there, playing chess with the person who had so openly told him he hated him?

The Detective noticed the weariness in his opponent's voice.

“If you don't like chess, why suggest playing? There's no fun in it if you just let me win like that,” he muttered, offended.

“I didn't let you win...”

“Then why are you using that tone? Normally, when I beat you, you insult me or challenge me again.”

“There won't be an again, Goro. This... This is our last game. Forever.”

Akira stood up and started collecting the chessboard so quietly that the only things that could be heard were the hum of the old refrigerator and the floorboards creaking under his feet as he walked. The other boy looked at him, feeling that ache in his chest again, the one he had gotten used to but that was incredibly annoying.

“You're right, Kurusu. Next time, there will be no more games, no consoles, no boards. It'll be you and me, with real weapons.”

Akira nodded.

“May the best man win.”

Those were the Detective's last words before he left. In his pocket, he had discreetly slipped the black king piece.

When he was back in his apartment, he changed into comfortable clothes: gray sweatpants and a wide white T-shirt. He took the chess piece out of the pocket of his trousers hanging on his desk chair and lay back on his bed, the black plastic between his fingers, staring up. He had had a good time... But a bittersweet feeling had settled in his throat ever since.

Didn't he even enjoy his victories anymore? Damn Kurusu, he had taken the fun out of everything.

Akira, conversely, went up to his room after closing and put on his pajamas, throwing himself onto the bed with weariness.

“Hey! I was trying to sleep!” Morgana exclaimed, newly awakened.

“I'm sorry,” he mumbled into the pillow, hiding his face in the fabric, making his glasses, bruised by Goro, creak.

“We told you not to mess around before Okumura’s Palace, but you never listen to us...”

“I wanted... to say goodbye.” His voice was shaky, as if his throat were contracting with pain.

“He doesn't deserve you, Akira...”

“He doesn't deserve what his father did to him, either.”

Morgana sighed. Akira didn't hesitate to defend Goro every chance he got; he was blind. Only he and Ann knew how in love Akira was with the damned Akechi, though it surprised him that no one else had noticed. The cat curled up in the space between his arm and his side, purring and providing warmth. He only hoped that when everything was over, Akira hadn't lost himself forever, because Goro was slowly killing him. There was nothing left of the charismatic, go-getting leader of the Phantom Thieves—only... an empty shell who sighed every two minutes and was afraid of losing someone he had never truly had.

Chapter Text

The day had arrived. The team had infiltrated Okumura’s Palace, determined to help Haru. They had to save her from her awful fate, just as they had to save all those poor workers whom her father viewed as mere production pawns. The place was oppressive, full of puzzles and strange technology, just as expected from a location that resembled an UFO.

Even though the group was not at its best due to the distrust generated by Akira's lies, they continued to work in unison. He was still the leader despite everything, and they would all give their lives for him, just as he would for them. However, it was true that the success rate had diminished, mainly due to the leader’s lack of focus.

He had a feeling someone had been following them since they entered the Palace. At first, he self-deceived, believing he was paranoid. However, the feeling intensified in every room they advanced through, clearing the place of cognitive shadows.

They stole the treasure and ran towards the final boss, that ruthless robot that almost killed them several times, although, to the team's surprise, they managed to defeat it. They were shattered, barely able to stand when it was time to run. The team moved with difficulty but with innate experience, and then, Joker saw something.

A black shadow shaped like a raven's beak.

It couldn't be Akechi, what was he doing there?

“Run, NOW! I have to do something first!” he yelled to his teammates before rushing back.

The team saw him go and were about to run after him, but Futaba warned them over the earpiece that they needed to leave immediately, that the place was starting to collapse.

When he re-entered the room, his blood ran cold. There he was, Crow himself, wielding his silenced weapon at the head of the cognitive version of Haru’s father.

“GORO! DON'T DO I—!”

Too late. He pulled the trigger without even looking at him. Slowly, the shadow began to vanish at the killer's feet, who then slowly turned toward Akira with a withered smile on his lips.

“What were you saying, Joker?” His voice was mocking, so much so that the black-haired boy felt a rage so profound that he couldn't help but shoot back at him without hesitation.

Crow laughed, escaping Joker's bullets with the speed of a bird of prey. His deranged laughter echoed through the collapsing room. The leader fled, seeing that he had no time left, but just as he turned around, a chilling voice whispered in his ear.

“Checkmate, Kurusu. You're the next to fall.”

The voice disappeared along with Crow’s body, who seemed to be using the cracks in the place to escape. Joker barely managed to flee, falling to the ground as he narrowly escaped that distorted reality. When he understood what had happened, the panic attack set in.

He was on the ground, his knees pulled to his chest. His worst nightmare had become real. Goro was not good; he was the same as, or worse than, those people they were trying to change.

The team had waited for him anxiously, but when they saw him, they all relaxed, expecting the celebration that followed every mission.

“Hey, hey, Akira, what’s wrong? Everything went well! Cheer up!” Ryuji exclaimed, approaching him with a smile.

“Nothing went well,” he muttered.

It hurt, it hurt more than a bullet to the chest.

“What do you mean nothing went well?” Makoto asked, not understanding where the anxiety came from. They had done this before: Treasure, cognitive defeat, and change of heart. That's how it worked.

“He... was there... I... couldn't... do anything...”

Everyone paled, especially Haru, who looked at Akira as if she couldn't process what he was saying.

“Who...? Akira... Don't scare me... My father... My father is fine, right?” Her voice was a whisper.

“I'm sorry, Haru... I didn't get there in time... I...”

Silence fell in the alleyway. Everyone looked at Akira with disappointment. They knew who he was  talking about and knew this wouldn't have happened if their leader hadn't let him into their lives just like that. At that moment, they couldn't even look Akira in the face. They were in shock, as if the whole thing were a sick joke. Not even Ryuji was capable of one of his aggressive comments; no one was capable. Unknowingly, they even held their breath.

They didn't dare ask what the leader had seen; they didn't know if they could handle the disappointment of learning the details of the supposed defeat.

“Let's go home. We don't know what will happen tomorrow. Maybe... maybe everything turns out okay...” Ann wanted to sound hopeful, but everyone already knew what awaited Haru’s father.

Haru, without wasting time, ran toward the station. She didn't know how much time she had left to see her father, but she wasn't going to waste it. The rest of the companions slowly abandoned Akira, until only Ryuji remained. Even Morgana left, tucked into Futaba’s backpack.

“It's not your fault, you know? I don't know what happened, but he's a bastard who played you, making you believe he has salvation, but... He's like Kamoshida or worse. He needs to pay for what he's done. I hope you don't break down now because... We're going to need our leader.”

“Get lost, Ryuji... I don't want to hear any of that right now.”

After those words, so full of pain and disdain, the blonde boy also left, with the feeling that a kilometer-long rift had formed between them. Kurusu remained there, hyperventilating against his knees, digging his nails into his worn denim with all the rage his tired body allowed. He couldn't believe it; this... had been horrible. Goro Akechi, no, Crow hadn't hesitated for a second to shoot Okumura. There was no doubt in his gaze, no regret, just... Hate. A hatred so profound and powerful that it was impossible to let it go.

“Damn it, damn it, DAMN IT!” he exclaimed, standing up to kick a nearby trash can. “I WAS TRYING TO SAVE YOU, IDIOT! YOU’VE RUINED EVERYTHING!”

“I already told you I don't need to be saved.” The voice behind him froze Kurusu's blood. Or made it boil. He still wasn't sure.

The younger boy turned around slowly, his eyes practically bloodshot with rage.

“Why did you do it? WHY?”

“You said it. The next time we saw each other was going to be a life-or-death war. And Okumura... Well. One last sacrifice was necessary for my final plan.”

“STOP TALKING LIKE THAT! YOU MAKE ME SICK!” Kurusu lunged at Goro, punching him in the cheek with all his strength, making him hit the wall with his back.

The older boy touched his now bruised cheek and laughed aloud, looking up at the sky, which, curiously, had clouded over.

“Kurusu, don't increase your jail time for assaulting an authority figure, will you? You're already facing about twenty or twenty-five years for multiple murders.” Goro didn't stop laughing maniacally.

“Are you really going to frame us? Knowing that you caused all of it? Are you really that much of a bastard?” Akira's aggressive attitude was beginning to stimulate Goro, perhaps because, deep down, he knew he deserved that punishment, and much more.

“Not only am I going to frame you, Kurusu...” he murmured, moving closer to him. “I'm going to watch from my beautiful seat in the courtroom as your friends whine for you and for their freedom, knowing that I will be out there, living a perfect life at your expense.”

He was provoking him; that was so obvious that Akira stopped short before delivering the second punch.

“You… want me to hit you, right?” he murmured, gasping with anxiety.

“I don't care; I'm just enjoying my victory.”

“No. You came looking for me... so I would hit you... so I would... punish you...”

Goro paled.

“Who do you think you are to think your punches have any effect on me, Kurusu? I already told you, I was going to destroy you, and that's what I came to do.”

“Then destroy me with the truth, damn it!” Akira grabbed Goro’s shirt collar tightly. “You killed Futaba's mother, right!? You lied to me that day too. You’ve always lied to me. About everything!”

Goro smiled coldly.

“So you know. Congratulations on coming to that conclusion all by yourself. I was wondering how long it would take you to figure it out.”

Akira let go of him as if the mere contact with him burned and turned his back on him, though he stopped walking after a couple of steps.

“You know what, Goro? I’ve come up with a very fun plan.”

“A plan? To escape?” he joked with cruel laughter.

“You left Futaba orphaned and now Haru... We'll see how you like a taste of your own medicine.”

Goro froze. Akira wouldn't be capable. He couldn't take away his revenge, not now that he was at the gates of glory.

“That’s a bluff. You wouldn't do something like that.”

Akira laughed and looked at him sideways. Joker's face had contorted into something too much like Crow. Even Goro felt his hair stand on end seeing himself reflected in him.

“We'll see, Goro Akechi. We'll see.”

Akira walked quickly, fleeing toward the crowd on the main street so that Goro couldn't do or say anything else. He couldn't afford a public scandal now. And he knew his threat hadn't fallen on deaf ears.

Feelings no longer mattered; he had one mission: To take down Shido before Shido took down them... and Goro.

Chapter Text

Something snapped inside Akira’s mind that day, something that changed him completely and irrevocably. After giving Haru enough time to process the loss, he decided that Akechi wasn't going to come out on top even one more time. He was sick of being the trusting fool, the idiot who couldn't look the other way and turn his back… The reality was, he simply couldn't stomach the Detective’s detestable attitude anymore.

It was over.

The empathetic, kind-hearted Akira Kurusu had died the same day that bullet pierced Okumura’s skull. Now, he only wanted to see Goro pay for his abominable acts.

He called a meeting with the group in the attic of Leblanc after closing time, and once everyone was there, he didn't waste time beating around the bush.

"We have to end this once and for all," he said with a firm voice, "and I’ve come up with a plan that will make Akechi pay for everything that’s happened, along with Shido. But I need you guys. I don't plan on failing this time."

"How do you plan to do it?" Makoto asked with genuine curiosity at the leader's sudden change.

"Akechi wants me, right? I know I’m the only loose end he has left to be able to get away with it, so he’ll come for me. We have to let him believe he’s won and use that to expose him."

Although the group was somewhat divided at first because, despite everything, they worried about Akira, they arrived at the conclusion of the perfect plan. There was no way that idiot Detective, who underestimated the group, would realize what was happening.

Kurusu was staring out the window, his gaze lost and his mind a whirlwind of nonsensical ideas, while his teammates seemed to be socializing amongst themselves in the attic. He wasn't paying attention to them to be honest. The reality was that he couldn't erase Crow’s contorted face from his mind as he shot Haru’s father with a smile on his face. And, furthermore, now he knew he had also killed Futaba’s mother.

How was he supposed to tell the girl he saw as a little sister that the guy he had almost lost his virginity to was her mother's killer? Talk about bad aim for a first love...

"Penny for your thoughts?" Ann asked from behind him, leaning on his shoulder.

"I was just thinking about the mess I’ve gotten us into…" he admitted, sighing reluctantly.

"It wasn't your fault; he’s the one who decided we’re his enemies," spoke Morgana from the bed, looking at him with all the determination a cat could express.

"I was the one who insisted I could help him, even though I think, deep down, I knew it wasn't possible." By the way he spoke, they could glimpse the mental wear and tear of those months of constant war. "Because of me, Haru’s father is dead and we’re facing the possibility of going to jail—well, what am I saying? Akechi is going to try to kill me too, that’s for sure," he laughed nervously. "The bastard is going to make me pay for everything he thinks I've done to him…"

"That bastard isn't going to lay a finger on you," Ryuji interrupted, appearing behind him. "We’re not going to let him. The plan is going to work, he’ll go to jail, and our names will be cleared. All thanks to you."

"To me?" he laughed in disbelief.

"You’ve returned stronger than ever, rising from the ashes like a Phoenix; thanks to that, we can win," added Yusuke, always as poetic as he was theatrical.

"You guys are the best," Akira murmured, trying to keep from crying, but the sudden group hug made him burst into tears.

He had endured a lot; he had suffered too much for just a sixteen-year-old kid. He just wanted to end it all and try to forget what had happened, even though he knew forgetting something like that was impossible.

On the other hand, Akechi was toiling away, trying to convince Sae and her team that the culprits were her dear sister's group of friends. He never thought that would be the hardest part of all, despite having gathered enough evidence and spun the whole story perfectly so there would be no doubt that his logic was sound.

"Damn Niijima, she’s going to give me an aneurysm…" he muttered as he left the office of the police official who had finally given the green light for the search and seizure operation.

By the time he got home, it was already night, and the exhaustion of nearly three years of ceaseless struggle was visible on his face. The dark circles, his face almost dehydrated from lack of care, and the recent weight loss from anxiety were starting to leave a visual mark of how much the situation was getting to him, no matter how hard he strove to show otherwise.

He took a shower in nearly boiling water, letting himself soak until his skin couldn't tolerate the heat anymore, and upon stepping out, he looked at himself in the mirror. The first impulse he felt was the urge to laugh, an impulse so primitive and sincere that he couldn't help but burst into a manic laughter that would make anyone's hair stand on end. He leaned on the sink to keep from falling and, when he looked in the mirror, he was crying.

It must have been from the laughter, or perhaps just the drops dripping from his wet hair.

He couldn't afford to fall apart now that he was so close to victory. This was not the time to falter. Tomorrow he would end it all, end Kurusu, end all the weight he had carried for years… Finally, he would be able to breathe; there was nothing left, just one more step, a simple shot and—Boom! Everything would be solved.

He posed in the mirror, pretending to hold a gun, and smiled with the calmest expression he could fake. Or maybe it wasn't faked. He wasn't entirely clear on that at this point. However, the last thing Akira would see would be his victorious smile before going to Hell.

He wrapped a towel around his waist and set about getting ready for bed.

Tomorrow would be a very important day.

He could almost taste the freedom and satisfaction on his lips.

The long-awaited moment finally arrived, and everything happened so quickly. The interrogation, the shot at Akira—it all went like a rushed dream.

A dream that tasted of glory and ash.

He looked at the boy’s corpse before him and felt his chest ache again.

"If only… we had met a few years earlier, Kurusu…" he whispered to himself, approaching the lifeless body and taking his hand to rest it against his cheek. There was a smile on his face very different from the one practiced the night before; this one showed pure and absolute despair.

After the three seconds the farewell lasted, he stood up, straightening his clothes with determination, and started walking out of there with the Detective Prince mask back on, feigning a tranquility that no one could flag as suspicious. He had won. He should feel celebration in his chest, so why did it hurt so much? Why were his legs trembling as if he were going to crumble right there?

It was all very strange. He couldn't shake the feeling that something was escaping him. Kurusu hadn't fought, hadn't resisted, hadn't even seemed hurt by the betrayal; although it was likely the shock of seeing a gun at his forehead was enough to silence him. However, he couldn't help but recall the boy’s blank face as if it were a mistake. The Akira Kurusu he knew would have shouted, would have cried, would have insulted him a thousand times before he could even pull the trigger… He wouldn't have given up that easily.

He shook his head slightly, trying to forget that face now devoid of life, to focus back on what mattered. Kurusu was dead; the next step was evident: He couldn't let his friends screw everything up again.

No one could snatch his vengeance away from him.

He had lost almost everything in the process. He couldn't lose his revenge too.

He looked back from the cell door; the smell of Akira’s blood was starting to revolt him. He needed to get out of there and continue with his plan. Otherwise, he would go crazy. Though perhaps, he already was.

When he reached his apartment, he finally let himself fall to his knees on the floor, laughing like a lunatic until he felt his throat burn with pain. He looked at his hands, feeling them dirty even though he almost never took off his gloves, and watched as tears began to fall onto the leather-clad palm.

What had he done?