Chapter Text
They don’t have the money to do a reading when he’s born; at least that’s what Goro’s mother says when he asks the first time. It’s not so uncommon where he is, the two of them scraping together a life in an unaligned town, far from the city. There are other children in the school with no fate either, but the ones who do seem to stand taller, wear it like a badge of honor, a path only they can see.
Some of them started lives far away, in better, brighter lands where fate readings were easy and almost mandatory. Some scraped together what little they had to make sure their child had a chance, could escape from this place without prosperity. But there aren't many diviners who pass through, and those who do charge fees that are too high for most to consider.
What his mother does have is an old pack of tarot, which she pulls out from a locked drawer one day when he’s six years old.
“It’s our little secret, okay?” she whispers, kissing the top of his head and winking. He’s too young to know it’s not normal to have cards, to be able to produce them with just a key.
“I don’t know how to read properly, so I can’t show your fate. But let’s see what you get when you pull a card,” she says with a laugh, and he remembers how bright it sounded as he reached with small hands.
“Whichever one you want, honey,” she says, soft and encouraging, and he lifts a hand to the pack, still thinking there might be a right answer despite her words.
There’s a lot of cards, but Goro picks one carefully, deciding that a card near the bottom of the pile is best. She helps him release it until it’s in his hands, holding it face down until she nods. He turns it over, blinking at the unfamiliar script, the strange images that look nothing like the storybooks he’s used to.
He traces the card, frayed and crinkled with time and usage, enthralled by what he sees. A woman sits, her dress shades of red, gold and blue, in her left hand a sword pointing upwards and to the right a set of scales, perfectly balanced. Light shines from either side like sunbeams, a metal crown on her head, and finally above, a small knight on a horse rides at the centre of the illumination.
The outside edge of the card is framed in silver twists that glitter as he moves it in the light. In the top bracket is a ‘V’ and three long lines, while a single word curves along the bottom. The memory of this particular card sticks in his mind forever and no matter how many decks he sees, this will always be his true version.
Goro peers at it, and just as they do whenever he picks up something with words on it, his mother puts her finger at the first letter.
“Shall we try sounds? What’s this?” she asks.
“Jay,” he replies, and she nods.
“That’s right, now let’s do the rest,” she says, as they go through each letter and she pulls out the sounds until they can echo, unused before in his mouth.
“Justice,” he manages on the second try and she kisses the side of his head.
“Well done. It means to be fair. And usually represents a considerate person,” she says, a smile in her voice and Goro isn’t really sure what most of that means, but she is happy with him, and that’s all he wants in life, really.
“Shall we do another?” she asks, and he nods, excited as she takes the card back and shuffles the deck.
This time he pulls a card from near the top, and she laughs in surprise when it’s Justice again. But the laughter stops at the third, fourth, and even fifth time.
“Did I do something wrong?” he asks when she falls quiet, and she quickly shakes her head.
“No, of course not honey. These things...we’ll see how it goes as you get older,” she concludes, putting the cards away again.
Goro frowns, hating the phrase ‘older,’ some magical time when he’ll know more, see more, but shown things kept hidden. His mother doesn’t often say it, but all the other adults do, so he doesn’t pay much mind to why this might be a warning sign.
In the years that pass, Goro always picks the Justice card. Once he throws the entire deck on the floor, and Justice is the only card that lands face up. After that, he doesn’t use it again, a little too unnerved at the results.
He learns that divining is a rare power, and the use of cards outside of certain people is strictly forbidden, but laws seem to matter less in this small, unlicenced part of town. Many things happen that shouldn’t, and that idea of fairness first explained so long ago seeps deep inside him.
It’s not fair when someone breaks into their home and steals their heater. It’s not fair when he coughs so hard he spits blood and there’s no one who can give him medicine or magic without a hefty price. It’s not fair that he can see the lights of the city burn and shine when their whole town’s supply of electricity is cut for six days after a crime no one living here committed.
Goro wonders if there really is any justice. If there is such an entity with her sword and scales, weighing an outcome. Growing up it feels like that sword is pointed against his neck, the scales already pulled against him, and everyone he knows shunned and lost.
Then, he turns twelve. And his mother dies.
That seems to be the most unfair thing of all. She is all he has in this small slice of the world, and one day that’s ripped away. They tell him she died peacefully, something in her brain just stopped working. Goro can never remember the last thing he said to her, or her to him; that conversation is lost in a haze of a Tuesday morning when he’d left for school. It hurts and it haunts, but he barely has to think about it because all of a sudden he’s completely and utterly on his own.
He’s too old to be taken in by anyone, too young to stand on his own feet. He’s clever, but schooling can only take you so far, and Goro spends exactly one week in an orphanage before he leaves in the dead of night with a split lip and tears which never fall.
This town though, is made up of people who slipped through the gaps, a whole world opening up to him as another closes. It’s not exactly easy going, and a few times Goro wonders if the cold will truly stop him from waking up in the morning, but it takes less than three weeks for him to find an out.
The bars are easy places to make money in various ways, so like many others, he tries to find work. It doesn’t work, to begin with, but one day as he’s waiting, he watches a group play cards. Something about the man in the blue coat has him disgruntled, his senses telling him to watch out. And as he does, he sees it.
“Card counting,” he mutters to himself. Or he thinks to himself, as the woman who’d been standing nearby looks down.
“Which one?” she asks, voice stiff and with an edge, and Goro gestures his chin towards the man in the coat.
The woman watches the game for a few minutes, then storms over, the ensuing shouting and rage putting even Goro on edge with its tone. After the game is ended and the man removed, she turns to him with an appraising look.
And that is how Goro Akechi gets his first job.
There’s no real law enforcement in this type of world, but there is a code of conduct. And despite his age, Goro is good at finding out those who subvert the system. In a world where everything is starving for scraps, there’s a strange level of respect that he’s never seen before; and those who exploit that are treated with a contempt that he’s always felt whenever he was left wanting.
It fuels and burns that frustration, gives him an outlet that both pays and soothes. That figure of Justice burns into his mind every day, and he knows this must be what the card had leaned towards. Fulfilling a role in the place he’s landed, ensuring that the result, no matter what way the scales are tipped, is fair.
He’s seventeen when city police arrive.
Goro has never seen anything so blinding and so strange. In this world of unseen laws, they blaze in, with guns and questions, looking for a man no one here has ever seen. A murderer, they say, who ran here, and they will stop at nothing to find him.
By the time Goro hears about it, they’ve already ransacked several establishments, and he arrives to find a tense standoff where several people have been roughly arrested. Goro stops, surveying the scene, and spots exactly what he’s looking for.
He marches forward, avoiding the officers, who too ignore him-- not a good sign-- and beelines for the woman talking on her phone. She wears a suit rather than a uniform, a tailored look. She frowns when he approaches but doesn’t seem concerned, hanging up as he stands before her.
She seems...odd. A strangeness hangs over her, clouded, lost. She could go either way, he thinks, and that gives him an angle.
“Hello, I was wondering if I could see your arrest warrant,” he says, adding a smile to the end of the sentence.
She’s clearly caught off guard, crossing her arms. “Excuse me?” she says, and Goro can feel his urge to smirk flare.
“You must have one to be able to enter the property, correct? For these particular individuals?” he says, gesturing to the people who are now all staring at him with rapt attention. Several people nearby have phones out and the air crackles with a little magic.
“We’re here on a manhunt,” she says with a frustrated sigh, and Goro nods.
“Oh, I’m aware. But if you wish to arrest these individuals you'll need probable cause for entering the building, and a specific warrant for their arrest. And considering you’re looking in the wrong part of town, I would say...you don’t have it,” he adds, tapping his chin.
She stares at him, eyes narrowing, before stepping forward.
“If you have any information-”
Goro holds up his hand. “I don’t, and please do forgive the assumption. But this is the south side of town. From here, the only way out is into a no man's land, followed by a guarded border into the next town. There’s no crossing point. The capital is to the east, and if someone were to infiltrate, they would head north. There is a crossing point there, and it’s where the sewer system evacuates,” Goro says, the people around whispering as he finishes.
“That is...even if someone were to come here. And if they were, then you’re clearly looking in the wrong place. Which is why I’m curious as to how you arrested these people,” he finishes.
She stares at him, and he stares at her. Collectively, they hold their breaths, and for a second something about her almost seems to click; a change that he cannot truly see simply knows occurred in some sense.
“Let them go,” she calls, turning briefly to the officers, who give her affronted looks, but she is turning back to him.
“What’s your name?” she asks.
“Goro Akechi. It’s nice to meet you…?” he says, holding out his hand.
This time she doesn’t hesitate and simply takes it. “Sae Nijima, I’m with the public prosecution office. You mentioned a sewage system,” she says, and he nods.
He doesn’t question why a prosecutor is here, even though his mind wonders. “It empties in the northeast part of town. The plant is nearby, you can’t miss it. It’s not guarded, simply off-putting by itself,” he says with a slight laugh.
She nods seriously. “I hope you’re telling the truth,” she says.
He doesn’t bother answering, and she turns away, giving orders in a manner that’s impressive, even to Goro’s mistrustful eye. He isn’t sure whether she will follow his advice; they already caused much damage clearly from simply deciding they wanted to ruin an area in a town they deem unfit to their city standards. But she had, in the end, listened to reason. Perhaps, he thinks to himself as he watched her leave, there is hope for the wider justice system.
He stays to help see that the people disturbed by the raid are fine enough to go about their business. There’s not much he can do to help clean up, his part he feels is done, and the level of gratefulness is a little too much. He manages to detach himself quickly though, until a voice calls to him.
“Wait, please!”
He turns, sees a girl slightly older than him run forward, her blonde hair falling across her face.
“Let me pay you back, for what you did. They were about to destroy my stall, and it’s my only income,” she explains, smiling.
He shakes his head. “There’s no need, I didn’t do much,” he says, but she steps forward.
“You did though. I was divining when they showed up, and couldn’t find my certification, my fingers were shaking too much. They would have destroyed it and...probably worse,” she says, wincing.
She’s probably right, he knows. Using divination without permission is punished heavily. Still, he is surprised she practices here.
“I didn’t know we had a registered diviner in this part of town,” he remarks and her face falls for a second.
“Oh yes, I recently arrived, just last month,” she explains. There’s clearly more to it then that, but secrets here are kept for a reason.
“Well, not exactly a warm welcome I’m afraid, but hopefully it won’t happen again,” he says, hoping the conversation will come to a natural close.
Unfortunately, she continues to be stubborn. “Please, really, I’d like to do even a small thing to thank you. Would you like a reading?” she says, eyes lighting up.
Goro shakes his head. “Truly, it’s fine. I’ve never had one, so-”
“Wait, never? You didn’t have a fate reading when you were born?” she says and he sighs.
“No, I live here, where would I get one?” he snaps back, absolutely fed up, composure fraying. She doesn't seem deterred, though. If anything, she seems even more determined.
“Then I insist. Everyone should see their fate,” she says, and Goro resigns himself to following her back the way he came.
Really, it feels like a bother, although there is a small hint of curiosity there. He’s never really thought about getting a reading done, still too expensive even now, and really, what good would knowing his fate do? He’s lived this long without it, he can continue as such.
Chihaya, as she introduces herself, takes him back to one of the shops, the front now boarded up, but inside relatively unscathed.
“Please, sit down. I’ll just collect my things,” she says, and Goro does, watching as she moves to the back of the room, collecting several items before returning.
She carefully spreads a dark cloth over the table, and Goro inwardly sighs at the dramatics, keeping his face neutral. She then places down a candle, a small metal bowl, a vial of clear liquid and a scrap of paper. Finally, the only object he recognises follows before she sits, a pack of tarot cards.
“Okay, do you know anything about a fate reading?” she says.
“I can’t say I do,” he replies, a little more intrigued now at the strange setup.
“That’s fine. It’s split into two parts: a card reading and foresight prophecy. I’ll guide you through the first, but the final part is for you alone. Let’s start with the cards,” she says, and cuts the deck carefully before laying out her spread.
The first card turned over, is Justice. Goro does laugh then, and she looks up, frowning.
“Apologies, I have...an affinity with that card,” he says.
She doesn’t ask how he knows it, for which he’s grateful for, simply hums, focused. “I can see why. Justice is clearly crucial to you, and to your life. You already struck me as a firm person, which this sometimes indicates, but Justice almost frames this whole reading with it’s position.”
She begins to turn over the others, and Goro finds himself absorbed as the other six cards are revealed: The Falling Tower, Seven of Coins, Two of Cups, The Hanged Man, Four of Swords, The Wheel of Fortune.
“Oh. This is...” she trails off, looks up at him, then clears her throat as she meets his gaze.
It sends a chill down his spine, the way she looks at him, the way the cards seem to take a sudden weight in the room they had not previously possessed. Goro knows magic exists, has seen it and knows why divination is so highly prized and controlled. Or so he thought. But now he truly can feel the whims of fate in a way he was unprepared for as he stepped into this room.
“The cards themselves each have meaning, but brought together it seems your fate is somewhat turbulent. You have a dramatic change on the horizon, but followed by success. Then again your life will take another turn, with more uncertainty that will take you time to recover from. And ultimately you are at the hands of fate. I don’t think I’ve seen anyone who is so wrapped up in fate before. Oh, but Two of Cups, I always love it when someone pulls that,” she says with a smile, her whole expression changing.
Goro is still a little lost in the amount of terrible changes he’s going to go through that he doesn’t respond immediately, and Chihaya points down at the Two of Cups, right in the centre of his reading.
“It’s a love card, one of the strongest. So you’ll meet someone who cares for you deeply,” she says with a smile.
Goro smiles back although his stomach does turn somewhat, but in a way which he cannot tell whether is hopeful or despondent. Love is not a word he’s had much use for, and he cannot imagine ever finding someone who would care in this world where things are not kind, nor gives him the space to think of frivolous things like love.
Still. It’s not to say he doesn’t wish for it. At his innermost, Goro knows something was scooped out long ago which gapes and bleeds, longing to find a way to knit itself back together. He just doesn’t imagine it’s possible, that someone could ever find a way to withstand his edges. And he doesn’t want to pin his hopes on tarot readings.
“Well, that’s the cards. The next part is all yours,” she says, and pushes the bowl, vial and paper to him.
“Put the liquid in the bowl, then tear the paper in half. One will dissolve, one will stay. The one which stays when you take it out, will bear a message for you. Only you will ever be able to read it. It’s normally given to children on their tenth birthday,” she adds, and Goro sighs but does as bid.
Strangely, it does work. The two pieces of paper flutter to the water, and the rightmost one immediately begins to dissolve. Once it’s vanished, he carefully picks up the remaining one, starting a little that as soon as it touches the air, it becomes tough, almost as if covered in glass. And before his eyes, a curversive script in dark red blooms.
As it does, he feels his heartbeat stop, for just a second, sound muffled, the words taking up all of time as his fate slips into place.
“I hope the words guide you, along with the cards,” Chihaya says, although she sounds as if from another world with how distance and lost they float through. For stark and bloody before him are the words:
You will kill your first love.
The Two of Cups no longer seems so wonderful.
Time moves, and Goro tries not to think of the reading. Fate, he thinks, is a twisted thing. Only the rich enough are blessed with it’s guidance, and to him at least, fate cannot be set in stone. That would make every decision pointless, the guilty always doomed to downfall, and no point in a system of rehabilitation. That is not justice, and Goro does not believe in it.
He’s also not going to kill his first love. That he is sure of.
So he puts it out of his mind, which is easier when a few weeks later, the news is full of the escaped murderer being caught, on a trail leading through their city sewer systems. Goro prides himself in being the reason for that, not that he is given any credit. The legal system though has its own red tape, so as the evidence and trial slowly pushes forward, Goro continues in his way, doing what he does to keep his corner of the world as fair as can be.
He has to say though, he is not expecting the call from Detective Niijima, almost a year later.
“You were instrumental in the case. Without your tip, we wouldn’t have thought to check the sewers,” she says.
No, but you would have arrested half the town on invented crimes , he thinks to himself, but does not say.
“It’s not a problem, simply doing my duty to help justice prevail,” he says, staring daggers at the wall of his small room while his voice stays airy.
“Still, my superiors are impressed, as am I. We’ve been collecting the evidence over time, and that man will be sentenced heavily. I had to inform them how we knew about the sewage system, so of course your name came up. They would like to meet you,” she says.
Goro stills. “Meet me?” he asks, curiosity winning out.
She laughs, and through the line at least it seems genuine. “It’s rare to find someone your age with such talent. The head of the city council would like to speak to you as well,” she says, and something in her tone tells him there is probably little choice in the matter.
He’s never been to the city before.
At first the lights and size is simply too much for his mind to comprehend. Everything is new and structured, not held together with community grit and prayer. People walk everywhere, have public transport which is clean and reliable, and on each corner there’s food for sale, so many things he’s never heard of.
It’s not that far from where he’s grown up, but it could be an entirely different planet. He has to crane his neck to see the top of buildings, the noise of traffic, music from shops and advertisements almost causing him to cover his ears. It’s just so much in all sense.
They have so much here. In a place claimed and aligned to a city council with high magic, governed and controlled to some specification he is not privy to due to being an outsider. They have everything, and he grew up with nothing on their doorstep. It’s sickening.
Goro stomachs his way through a series of meetings with various officials, who praise him in a way usually reserved for small children, all amazed and applauding him for being only eighteen. Sae is the only person to truly give him any time of day, actually explaining the process of the evidence bank they brought against the perpetrator, not mincing her words or dumbing anything down. It’s fascinating really, and he’s sorry when she takes him to his final meeting with the head of the city council.
They drive there, Sae using a force car, and Goro continues to stare out at the flurry of activity. It’s as the car turns towards the town council building that a huge screen on a sky scraper suddenly changes from the news. Goro’s breath hitches at the change, as a crimson background fills the screen, with black and white mixed letters blaring ‘We’ll steal your heart!’ appear.
“Them again. Well, I wonder where they hit,” Sae mutters.
“Them?” Goro asks, eyes trained on the screen as they drive by.
“The Phantom Thieves. They don’t operate here, but in surrounding areas they’re pretty busy. Not our problem,” she adds, and the words vanish as they drive past.
She walks him into the building, saying goodbye at reception.
“I hope we see each other again. You’d make a good detective,” she says, and he laughs.
“It is intriguing, and thank you for showing me the ropes. Goodbye, Nijima-san,” he says, bowing.
He’s sent to wait outside the office in the city council, a large, historical building that’s bigger than any place in his hometown. People pass him by with no mind, all busy and caught up in their own lives. He watches them race and panic through, a strange tightness brewing in his chest simply from observation. There’s so much tension here, it almost makes his shoulders ache.
“Goro Akechi. You can go in now.”
He nods in thanks to the receptionist, then walks through the double doors and into a sizable office. It is the cliche image of success if Goro has ever seen it; wide windows observing the city, various certifications hanging on the walls. The man turns as the door clicks shut, wearing an expensive looking suit, square framed glasses framing sharp eyes.
And all around him is a void.
Goro’s never felt anything like that before. The essence of others has always twinged either to whether they’re deceptive or not, but this man reeks of injustice. Everything about him is a lie, and Goro’s fingers twitch with a need to grab something and run. But he can’t, so he simply bows low.
“Thank you for seeing me, Masayoshi Shido,” he says, proud nothing in his voice quivers.
“Ah yes, Goro Akechi. You were hard to track down, but eventually I found you,” he says, walking away from the window and rounding the desk.
“Found me?” he says, unsure and growing ever more concerned as Shido smiles at him.
“Yes. And already disrupting my well laid plans,” he says, and then leaning back on the desk, flicks his hand in Goro’s direction.
His throat constricts. Goro chokes as he suddenly cannot breathe, mouth opening and closing, hands coming up to his throat, absurdly trying to find some invisible tightening torque, scrapping at his flesh in panic. His vision dulls for a moment, and his throat convulses, before suddenly the air rushes back and he’s left gasping.
He thinks his legs should give way but he doesn’t move, can’t move he realises, other than simply to pant for air, throat and chest raw and aching as Shido continues to stare at him.
“Disappointing. No power, or anything worth developing. Perhaps some perception gift, you are smart at least. But your mother was exceptional, and you hold none of our talents. A shame I didn’t find you when I did her,” he says, pushing off the desk and moving closer.
“Found her,” Goro says, voice a razor edge of hatred he didn’t know could exist so quickly at the implication.
Shido laughs softly. “It was her own fault for leaving, she knew what would happen. Such a waste of a gift, and none in you. And yet still you managed to get in my way,” he says, and Goro hears the tension in his voice, and cannot help but smile a little as it clicks into place.
“You needed an excuse to raid the town,” he says and Shido nods.
“I did, and thanks to my...son, those efforts were thwarted,” he says.
“I’m not your son,” he hisses, a childish retort and Shido’s eyebrow twitches.
“An association I also do not want, but blood is blood. And does make this easier,” he says.
Goro watches as Shido pulls a long black feather from nowhere, and then impossibly, plunges it into his chest.
He screams. The feather slips in, seeping hurt with each brush, burning and cauterising as it slides inside, pain radiating outwards to every part of him. His agony is violently loud, and Shido smiles as if enjoying how much this is destroying him, and Goro feels that hatred swell and crest despite the fact he is utterly helpless.
“You will never devise to work against me. If you do again, this will pierce your heart,” he says, slow and careful, dragging out every syllable. But as soon as the sentence is closed, the pain stops, and all the magic released. Goro finds himself sprawled on the ground, clutching at his vaguely aching chest.
“Since you like playing detective so much, I’ll have you on the force. But working for me of course, you heard what happens if you try to cross me,” Shido says, as Goro stumbles to his feet.
“You can’t force me to do anything,” he hisses and Shido sighs.
“I can, and I did. Would you like to test the curse?” he says.
Goro grits his teeth, reality sinking in, sudden and deep. Death or obedience, he has no choice. Shido seems to see it hit, for he smiles and takes a seat.
“There’ll be a car outside. You can collect your belongings and return tomorrow, I’ll have an apartment set up. Best to keep an eye on you. Now get out of my sight,” he says.
Numbly, Goro does so, storming out of the room and the hideous building, into the street and inhaling deeply. He clutches his hand to his chest, although there is nothing there to feel. Across the street, a screen lights up with that same message from before: 'steal your heart' beaconing even him from this distance.
“I wish you would,” he whispers, a moment of weakness lost on the wind, at these Phantom Thieves, whatever they may be.
That would be better after all. To take his heart, one pierced with a crow’s feather that could kill him, or the one that will kill the first person he loves. Death or murder, neither choice is one he wants to make. He’d be better off without a heart at all.
A car pulls up, and Goro stares at the door for a moment, wondering. Then he steps forward, and opens the door, sliding inside and accepting his fate.