Archive of Our Own

Goro pulled the hood of Sakamoto’s eyesore of a hoodie over his head and slipped carefully through the halls of Shujin Academy, heading for the roof. He’d be right on time since classes had just ended, and Goro had taken the first sick day of his life because his mind was swimming so violently that he knew he wouldn’t be able to get any work done at school or at the police station. 

Not because of grief or overexertion. Not because he had to stop and examine his plans for Shido from all angles and try (and fail) to find any possible path where he might end up alive at the end. Not to sit and agonize over how far he had let himself fall from grace to turn into the monster society always told him he’d be. 

No, it was over a boy. 

That was an oversimplification of the issue, of course, but Goro still couldn’t help but feel entirely disgraced and weak, letting himself succumb to something so...childish. What would he even call his mental anguish, if he had someone in his life who cared enough to ask? Relationship troubles? He and Akira had never been officially anything, other than “rivals”, and that was in the last timeline. 

How do I feel about Akira Kurusu?  

Well, that is a complicated question, Detective Prince Akechi answered in his head, smiling for a nonexistent crowd. I am known to be an individual full of contradictions. It’s only natural that my nature would bleed into my most important relationships. For instance, I murdered Akira Kurusu in cold blood and enjoyed it. The voice in his thoughts never lost its airy tone -- the one the media and his fans ate right up. The words didn’t matter, only the painted-on smile of a cheap doll. I don’t suppose I’d like to do it again, but I’ve thought about the thrill it would give me to hold a knife to his throat and see the alluring spark of terror in his eyes. It would be fascinating to see him paralyzed by fear like the prey he is! 

Wow, you really are a disgusting monster, aren’t you?

The Detective Prince laughed lightly in response. 

Why yes, I suppose I am. Quite interesting that I might be brave enough to do that, yet the idea of holding his hand is unthinkable. 

Goro dug his fingernails into his palms, focusing on the pain and letting it cut through his inner dialogue so he could stay on task. He missed his gloves, but they would’ve looked odd at best with the borrowed casual attire he was sporting in order to navigate Shujin unnoticed. They were a small but essential barrier between Goro and the world he brought ruin upon.

Before long, he’d found his way to the roof. When he pushed open the heavy door, he was immediately met with the chill of a particularly cold November afternoon. The Phantom Thieves sat huddled together in the metal chairs that were scattered carelessly about. A few of them were chatting, and Goro could pick out his name from the mess of words before the thieves looked up and noticed him one by one. Goro wordlessly walked over to them and was just about to pull out his phone to pretend to look busy when Ann addressed him.

“Why are you ignoring my texts?” Ann demanded. “Are we just not going to talk about what happened last night?”

“Why would we need to talk about what may or may not have been said in a private conversation ?” Goro shot back, his voice dripping with venom.

“Futaba-chan said that you knew we were listening!” Haru said.

“And you believed that load of bullshit?” Goro asked.

“I try to see the best in everyone,” Haru asserted cheerily. “Otherwise, we’d hardly be working together, would we?”

And damnit, Goro really didn’t have anything to say to that.

“I thought it was a beautiful scene,” Yusuke said. “Your voices were filled with such raw emotion that I could see the scene clearly in color! Akira, baring his soul to you, laying his intentions out for you to handle as you pleased! It is truly rare to witness a moment of such naked vulnerability…”

“Phrasing , Yusuke,” Ann said, cringing.

“Please stop talking,” Goro mumbled into his hands. If nothing else, at least his burning cheeks were warming his palms up. “I will give you this 500 yen that I found in Ryuji’s pocket.”

“Dude, what the hell!” Ryuji protested.

“Oh, excellent!” Yusuke said. “I’ll need that for the train fare after this.”

“Don’t take his money…” Makota said tiredly. “I’ll cover your fare.”

Goro cursed his past self. He’d confided in Ann in a moment of weakness about his… affections… and she must have gone and told all the others, even if she adamantly denied doing such a thing. Whenever Goro brought it up, Futaba just claimed he was just “really really obvious with his disastrous gay angst”. Whatever that was supposed to mean. What was so weird about striving to rekindle an intimate relationship with a worthy rival?

And shouldn’t that very rival be here by now? he wondered.

“Ann, you put the card in Kurusu’s desk, didn’t you?” Goro asked. 

“I did!” Ann said. “Mona said he even saw him looking at it too.”

“He looked annoyed,” Morgana piped up. “And then he was glaring at the back of Ann’s head the whole class. He definitely read it, and he definitely knows that at least Ann and Ryuji are Phantom Thieves.”

“I still think the calling card was lame,” Ryuji cut in. “Like really? ‘Meet us on the roof?’ There ain’t any style in that!”

“I have to agree,” Yusuke said. “It seems a waste of the time I spent perfecting the aesthetics of the design to use such an unimaginative message. Akira always knew how to compliment my artistic vision with his unique charm and style…”

“Well, Kurusu isn’t here,” Goro hissed, for perhaps the hundredth time since he’d begrudgingly taken charge of the Phantom Thieves. “And what you say is ‘boring’, I say is practical.”

“He...does have a point,” Makoto admitted. The nervous tapping of her foot sped up ever so slightly. “I just hope he shows up.”

“He will,” Goro said, harshly asserting his leadership on reflex. Makoto Nijima was entirely too similar to him and was consistently the biggest threat to his authority. And while he didn’t like leading the fool-hardy band of thieves, he’d rather shoot himself in the foot than take orders from one of Akira’s underlings. 

“Yeah, well… he’d better!” Ryuji said. “It ain’t right being the Phantom Thieves without him. And I miss the guy.”

“Yeah!” Ann added. “Even if he does have terrible taste in men…”

“Shut up,” Goro bit out. Ann just gave him a playful shove in response. Goro hated how he bristled at the contact. The Thieves were incredibly… touchy. He mostly was spared from it, but every so often he failed to dodge random actions of platonic affection and found himself freezing up more often than not. If the others had noticed, they were at least kind enough not to mention it. 

“Where’s Sakura-chan?” Goro asked. Sure, he was mostly mentioning her to change the subject, but he also just couldn’t help but notice her absence. Since he’d ignored all the messages he’d received from his teammates, (not just Ann’s), he had no idea how she was taking the prospect of Akira, someone who was practically a brother to her in the last timeline, expressing romantic interest in her mother’s killer. It didn’t matter how many in-depth discussions about old Featherman episodes they shared or how many times she’d prod at him on purpose and call him a “noob” -- Goro would never truly convince himself that she didn’t despise every second she had to spend near him. That was fine. Goro was used to being viewed that way. 

“Oh, here she is,” Makoto said. The observation was punctuated by the slam of the double doors. Goro turned over his shoulder to see Futaba running up towards them, her hands pushing her headphones tightly onto her ears.

“Are you quite alright, Futaba?” Yusuke asked.

“Ngh…” Futaba muttered. “I locked myself in the bathroom because I got nervous. High school is a high-level dungeon! Akira was my key item that gave me the Guts buff to get through crowds…”

“Ah! I’m so sorry, Futaba-chan!” Haru said. “If it happens again, text one of us to come with you, okay? I’m sorry you were overwhelmed...”

“‘S’okay,” Futaba muttered. “I got here eventually. And my social skills stat is still higher than A-sketch-i’s.”

Goro rolled his eyes and muttered a few choice curses under his breath. He knew better than to protest, because for one thing, Futaba wasn’t necessarily incorrect in her assertation, and for another, even if she was, the teasing she inflicted upon him would never come close to the amount of pain he’d caused her. They hadn’t talked about it, though Goro had a horrible feeling that Akira would try to make them talk about it -- that he would try to meddle and fix like he always did and try to convince Goro that he wasn’t a terrible person even though they’d all know that it was a lie. Haru and Futaba especially. 

Why did they need Akira to remember everything again?

Goro chided himself mentally. It would be selfish to deny Akira his rightful place as the leader of the Phantom thieves, to rob him of his own stolen memories, and to leave him in his soul-wrenching isolation that had gotten so bad he had actually asked Goro out . 

“If we could get back on topic,” Goro said, rubbing his temple as if he could scrub out thoughts of Akira like a persistent stain, “Do we need to review the plan? And the two backup plans?”

“Yeah, we got it, nerd,” Futaba said.

“Are you all sure?” Makoto cut in. “There is merit to reviewing each step. We don’t have a lot of time left, so this really needs to go off without a hitch.”

“It’s fine!” Ann protested. “It’s not that complicated.”

Goro supposed that was true. The plan he’d made to forcibly awaken Akira’s persona and, in tandem, return his memories of the previous timeline, was simple. Of course, none of them knew the details of his true plan, but their ignorance was an essential element that would aid in the plan’s success. He couldn’t predict all the variables, but… 

“Wow, Takamaki, you even brought your cat to this intervention? Don’t tell me he’s the one who sent me this.”

The familiar red and black of a calling card entered Goro’s field of vision as it was slid across the table the thieves sat at. Goro’s eyes snapped up, and he made eye contact with Akira. For a quiet second, they exchanged a very meaningful look that conveyed absolutely nothing. Then the thieves erupted into chaos, all shouting over each other. Akira just took a step back, fiddling with the long sleeves of his uniform while he waited for the group to tire themselves out. Goro couldn’t think of anything to say.

“What the hell, man!” Ryuji yelled. “Where’d you come from?”

“I can be very sneaky when I want to be,” Akira said with a loose shrug. “Anyway, what is it you all want? To steal my heart? How exactly does that work, anyway? Is it like surgery?” Then he looked directly at Goro and had the audacity to wink. “Should I take off my shirt?”

“Please don’t,” Makoto said, holding out her hands to break up a fight that hadn’t started yet. “How much did you hear? When did you even get here?”

“Even without his memories, Joker is still an elite Phantom Thief!” Morgana cackled.

“Meow to you too, sir,” Akira said, addressing Morgana with a faux-serious expression. “Anyway, I followed Futaba-chan in and hid over by the planter,” Akira continued, as if that was the most normal behavior in the world. 

“You used me… for espionage…” Futuba said, placing a hand on her chest in mock offense. 

“So, you’re all the Phantom Thieves, huh?” Akira asked. His eyes flickered over the group. “I had a hunch about most of you.” His gaze stopped on Yusuke briefly. “No idea who you are. Aren’t you too pretty to be hanging around with a bunch of thieves?” 

“I believe reforming society to be its own form of spreading beauty,” Yusuke replied in his usual, half-detached manner. Goro smothered a small voice in his head that was quite indignant over the fact that apparently he wasn’t too pretty to hang around with a bunch of thieves. 

“Cool,” Akira said. “Yeah, the rest of you, I knew about. Akechi is a surprise, though.”

“That’s putting it lightly,” Ryuji mumbled.

“So, you really are involved with the Phantom Thieves, Futuba-chan…” Akira continued. He tucked his hands in his pockets, frowning. “I know we don’t know each other very well, but Boss has been worried about you. Are… you really alright with being out in public like this? I mean, I thought you were sort of a… hermit.”

“Mmm… kinda,” Futaba said. “But they all helped me! They stole my heart.”

“What?” Akira asked. For the first time since he’d engaged the conversation, Akira looked truly serious. “You all… did something to Futaba?” There was a noticeable shift in the atmosphere. This was familiar. Akira had always been as fiercely protective of those around him as he was careless when it came to his own well-being.

“W-wait!” Ann stuttered out. “It wasn’t anything bad! And that’s what we wanted to talk to you about! We want to show you how we change hearts.”

“Why’s that?” Akira’s voice was full Joker now. 

“Cuz we want you to join, man!” Ryuji said, going completely off-script. Akira didn’t react to that at all, and Goro couldn’t help his exasperated sigh. 

“Futaba, we need to leave,” Akira said. “I won’t tell Sojiro, but you shouldn’t be hanging around with them.” 

“Hey! You hypocrite! You asked Goro out last night!” Futaba said, pointing an accusatory finger his way. 

“You told her about that?” Akira protested, turning to Goro. 

It wasn’t going well. But, he was well prepared for that.

“Plan B,” he said tiredly. Makoto and Ryuji both nodded dutifully, and then, in perfect sync, tackled Akira to the floor. 

“Ack! Hey!” Akira protested. “What are you doing?”

“Ann?” Goro prompted.

“Got it!” Ann said. She whipped out her phone, and Goro could see she had her Meta-Nav app already open. “Mementos,” she recited into the microphone, stepping closer to Akira and grabbing one of his restrained arms as the world warped around them. 

The offputting, oppressive air of Mementos circled around them as Goro felt the familiar sensation of his clothes changing. The particular outfit was still unfamiliar, something that had changed semi-recently when Robin Hood and Loki had fused into Hereward. Instead of the gaudy, childish white and red of his princely outfit or the restrictive cruel edges of his dark armor, Goro’s heart now supplied him with a simpler outfit of black and greys, two belts at his waist, tall black boots, and his signature pair of gloves. His hair was also pulled back into a ponytail when his clothes changed, further cementing in his mind that this outfit was, above all else, meant to be practical and fitting for a thief. 

The dark colors reminded him that he was no hero, yet the still-present cape and the small adornments of gold accents on his suit gave him hope that maybe he could have been one. A bastard couldn’t be a prince, but he didn’t have to be a monster either. He didn’t know what sort of person he would have turned out to be if he’d never gone to Shido, nor who he’d be if he somehow managed to live past eighteen this time. But for now, he was a Phantom Thief. 

His sleek and simple black mask was far easier to remove and handle than his long-nosed red one or his helmet. Haru had commented once that his new mask made it a lot easier to talk to him due to the lack of forced physical distance. Goro sort of despised his cognition and its goddamn heavy-handed metaphors. 

He did like to think he was more honest now. He was banking on that, on the precarious trust he had built up with the other thieves for this plan to work. But he was also banking on the fact that they might believe quite easily that he’d suddenly been overcome with a bout of vengeful violence. They had Akira in Mementos. That was the hard part. As for his persona…it was time to enact his true plan. Ryuji and Makoto let Akira go once the shift between realities was completed, leaving Akira scrambling to his feet and looking around madly. 

“What the…” he breathed. “Where...? Woah, when did you guys all change into cosplay? 

“Oh!” Haru said. “It’s… not cosplay. We’ll explain later.”

“Now would be good,” Akira said. “Actually, undo whatever you did first. This place is…” Akira trailed off. It seemed his gaze had finally settled on Morgana, and he was likely trying to puzzle out exactly what it was he was seeing.

“Alright!” Morgana cheered. “Phase one of the plan went off without a hitch! Now we just need to find --”

“Takamaki, is that your cat? ” Akira asked. “It’s… some sort of monster cat?” Predictably, Akira sank down to squat and held out a hand to Morgana, likely thinking over whether or not petting Morgana would end well for him. 

“I’m not a monster!” Morgana protested. “And I don’t belong to anyone! I’m also not a cat!”

“You look like a cat to me,” Ryuji said.

“I’m not!” Morgana bit back. Goro made eye-contact with Makoto, who looked just as instantly burned-out by the familiar argument as he felt. 

“Skull… Mona… can we focus, please?” she said. Thankfully, both of them backed down, and Akira had, thankfully, decided against petting Morgana and riling him up again. Now he was eyeing the thieves as a whole warily. 

“So… you wanna try fighting some Shadows with us?” Ann asked. “It’ll be fun, I promise! You’ll be a natural at it.”

“Shadows?” Akira parroted.

“It’ll be dangerous,” Makoto said. “But we’re all here to protect you.”

Goro held back an audible scoff. Amatuers. They were all too soft-hearted to actually use their brains. Makoto was no fool -- her grades matched and sometimes exceeded his own (not that he compared them obsessively or anything) -- but she was being willfully ignorant. No one could awaken a persona unless they experienced the overpowering rush of rebellion and the need to fight. They’d never get that response from Akira when facing low-level shadows. Especially if he’d be promised seven capable persona users to depend upon. But if he were to be faced by a very powerful, quite terrifying persona user who had the guts to relentlessly attack him and no allies to depend upon at all...

“Alilat,” Goro called. It was the first time he’d spoken since they’d arrived in mementos, and he felt Akira's eyes land on him sharply as soon as he uttered the word. Goro felt the persona in question manifest behind him, then turned his stance on his teammates. “Ice Age.” 

“H-huh?”

“Wait!”

It was quite a powerful ice spell, and Goro had spent a good amount of time in that strange dream-like room tailoring Alilat to perfection -- specifically, to increase the chances of inflicting “Freeze” and rendering his targets immobile. It was very effective; all of his teammates turned cold and stiff, save for Yusuke, who was notably strong against ice attacks. 

“Crow, what are you--”

Goro didn’t let him finish. If this was going to work, he had to be ruthless. He reached for his mask yet again. 

“Athena Picaro. Akasha Arts.” A fair amount of damage, had a good chance of knocking him down. Yusuke would be fine. Goro was the leader, after all, and he knew his teammates' limits. He also knew Akira’s limits, he liked to think, but he’d still have to be careful. After failing to kill his rival twice, it’d be more than a little disappointing to do it by accident. 

“Are...you...fucking…insane?” Futaba forced out through chattering teeth. Goro paid her no mind and advanced towards a terrified Akira, letting his face split into a sick grin. He still remembered what it’d felt like to break his own mind and enter a state of complete violent psychosis, and though he wasn’t too keen on trying to pull something like that ever again, he needed to be convincing. The Phantom Thieves couldn’t act for shit, so all he could do was present them with a scene that was familiar and hope their fear would be enough to slap some fight into this amnesiac loner Akira with a ridiculous crush. 

“I’ve been waiting for this, you know,” Goro remarked, letting a low laugh slip into his voice. Akira’s eyes were wide, fear spread across his features like a stark smear of blood, yet he stood his ground. Goro couldn’t help his chuckle as he pulled out his saber and pointed it menacingly at Akira’s chest. “I understand that you retain no memory of your transgressions. However, that is of no concern to me. It’s because of you that all my plans for Shido failed, and it’s because of you that I’ve been stuck playing nice with these devoted disciples of yours. Well. I refuse to lose to you. And at the end of the day, you’re just some criminal trash that no one gives a shit about.”

“You-You said that you believed me!” Akira cried. “I… I thought --”

“I don’t really care what you thought,” Goro interrupted. “You die here. And I’m going to enjoy every second of it.” 

Unexpectedly, Akira stepped back, trembling visibly. Goro knew it was unfair to be disappointed when Akira had literally just learned of the supernatural and was being threatened with no power or allies to rely on, but seeing Akira looking so weak and afraid pissed him off. He’d get this over quickly. 

Goro opted for wide-range attacks that would cause a lot of damage around Akira. He switched his persona to Hereward and performed a flashy gun attack, consciously giving it less power but cackling madly nonetheless as the magic bullets desecrated everything around Akira, some of them hitting his stomach and knocking him back. Akira darted around, seeming desperate to find an exit. His eyes caught on the escalator down, but Goro could tell, whether by intuition or deduction, that Akira realized that venturing deeper would only invite more danger. Goro couldn’t attack around Akira forever without someone, be it teammate or Akira himself, catching on that the danger was a charade, so Goro switched tactics and began to swing his laser saber at Akira, finding himself smirking with genuine intrigue as he discovered that even without his mastery of the metaverse, Akira was quite agile and flexible. But he couldn’t dodge forever. 

Goro’s blade slashed Akira’s right thigh, causing him to stumble and fall, the smell of burning flesh wafting up to Goro’s nostrils. No vitals harmed, nothing a healing spell couldn’t fix. But very real pain. Now debilitated, Akira would need supernatural aid to fight back. Goro laughed madly for a gratuitous amount of time, making sure to chew the scenery for a while to give Akira’s inner rebellion (Arsène was it?) plenty of time to monologue. But when Goro was quite done acting deranged, Akira still showed no signs of awakening his persona. In fact he looked… resigned. 

Akira had stopped trying to crawl away and was merely hanging his head in defeat. The muffled screams of the Phantom Thieves behind them piercing their way into Goro’s mind, and he couldn’t help but wonder if he had really destroyed all his fragile, fragile bonds just for a plan that would fail and leave him alone and hated, once again. 

Fuck that, he decided. Akira can’t get away with this weak shit.

“Fight back,” Goro hissed through his teeth as he advanced. “Aren’t you supposed to be my rival?” Akira wheezed through his breaths, letting out a cry of pain before he raised his head, gritting his teeth together. Goro searched his expression, but could find no fight in his eyes. It wasn’t working. Akira was scared and hurt and it was Goro’s fault and it wasn’t working.

Why wasn’t it working? Akira had always had the will to rebel in spades. In this timeline, he’d been entirely shunned by those around him, and Goro, who was apparently the only person who’d been anywhere near kind to him, was now very clearly trying to murder him. Was that seriously not enough to make Akira angry? Was he really going to take all that lying down? He hadn’t last time, though Goro hadn’t seen that awakening himself, of course. He only had Ryuji’s account of it to go off of…

Oh. Of course. Fucking hero complex.

Ryuji was already standing slightly separated from the rest of the group, as he’d lingered to make sure that Akira was unharmed after manhandling him into the metaverse. What a good friend, Goro thought sarcastically. Surely, he won’t mind taking a few punches for Akira’s sake. 

As Akira shivered on the ground in front of him, Goro turned on his heels and advanced on Ryuji who, although frozen in place, was cursing loudly. There was only one way to free Ryuji without being obvious, and Goro would be lying if he said he wasn’t looking forward to it. Smiling wickedly, Goro punched Ryuji in the stomach, the impact of the physical attack amplified by the effect. 

“Shit!” Ryuji cried in pain. “What the eff are you doing? Leave Akira alone!”

“That’s what I’m doing,” Goro said with a shrug. “For now, at least. He’s not going anywhere, and if I’m being honest, you annoy me a lot more.”

Goro summoned Baal and prepared a strong wind attack. Ryuji recognized it too, quickly summoning Captain Kidd and dodging to the side. Goro noticed him fumble on his bad leg and winced. He’d hit Ryuji easily if he fired the attack, and since he was particularly weak to wind attacks, it might do a dangerous amount of damage. He really couldn’t risk that. Ryuji was a fucking idiot, but he could pack a punch in battle. Goro recognized his value in that respect, if nothing else. 

“Hmph,” Goro said, replacing his mask and pulling out his saber once again. “You aren’t worth the energy.”

“Hell, man, we were workout buddies!” Ryuji protested. Goro let out an ugly snarl in response and lunged and Ryuji again, pinning him against the wall of Mementos and bringing the sharp edge of his sword under his chin. Ryuji squirmed under him, reaching his restrained hand to try and remove his mask. Goro held him firmly and stalled again with another deranged laugh.

“So long, Sakamoto!” he sing-songed in a mockery of his detective prince voice. Ryuji’s eyes were wide with terror and… a bit of sadness. That was unexpected. Did...Ryuji really see him as more than a teammate, even after everything?

Goro didn’t have a lot of time to speculate. Suddenly, from somewhere to his right, Goro was knocked back by a wave of pure power. Ryuji cried out in surprise as Goro ate shit on the floor of Mementos. Scrambling to his feet, Goro saw the source of the attack… and laughed.

There stood Joker, Arsène looming behind him, holding up his arms in a trance-like state that throbbed with potential energy. He was back. He was really back.

“Dionysis. Amrita Shower!” Goro yelled, not wasting any time. He saw his teammates unfreeze out of the corner of his eye, Haru immediately helping Yusuke to his feet and forcing a Life Stone into his hand. “Queen, heal everyone. Skull and Panther first.”

“Did you plan this?” Makoto hissed.

“Of course,” Goro said dismissively. “Now would you please --” 

Goro was hit by the sensation of strange energy, cold and hot all at once, enveloping him and ripping his soul around in a flash of red and black. Akira had taken him by surprise with a powerful curse attack. It fucking hurt, but Goro grit his teeth and stood his ground, squinting against the remaining aftershocks of newly-awakened power emanating from Akira and his rebel’s heart. There was no recognition in his eyes, but it looked like the effect of the awakening was subsiding, Akira’s muscles relaxing as he dropped to his knees, clutching his head tightly with his crimson gloves.

“What the eff, man!” Ryuji yelled, shoving Goro from the side. “Why’d you have to come after me?”

“You’re one of the most durable on the team,” Goro said simply. “And you’re naive and loyal enough to take this in stride.”

“Asshole,” Ryuji grumbled under his breath. “I thought you weren’t gonna pull this shit again.”

“Adjust your expectations, then,” Goro said dryly. “That’s not my problem.” 

“So, this was your plan, was it?” Yusuke said. Goro could feel his icy gaze even from behind his kitsune mask. “It seems unbecoming of a leader to act behind his teammates’ backs in such a manner.” 

“Well, lucky you,” Goro said. “Consider this my resignation. I even found a replacement for you dumbasses.” He gestured vaguely at Akira, who was still crouched down and unresponsive. “Did you honestly think I would allow some random shadow to rough up Kurusu? Or perhaps one of you? None of you would have the guts, nor the acting prowess to make it convincing. I, however, know Kurusu’s limits. And my plan worked, did it not?”

“It was still shitty of you,” Ann said, looking away and crossing her arms. “You really scared us with that.” 

Akira let out a small, pained noise from his spot on the floor, effectively putting a cap on the conversation.

“Kurusu-kun?” Goro asked, straining himself to keep his voice even. 

Akira’s gloved hands that had been clenched in his hair finally relaxed as he slowly pulled them away. He still made no attempt to rise to his feet.

“Are you alright, Joker?” Haru piped up from behind Goro. “You looked like you were in terrible pain…”

“For real,” Ryuji said. “When I awoke my persona again and got all my memories back, I thought my head was gonna split open.”

“Akechi.”

Akira had finally found his voice. Goro tried to meet his eyes but was unsuccessful. Akira was still looking down at the grimy floor of Mementos. 

“Kurusu,” he returned coolly. 

“Come closer.” 

A silent, nervous look bounced around the Phantom Thieves like a game of invisible pinball. The game ended when every thief was looking at Goro expectantly, their upset and angry expressions replaced with things ranging from wariness to pity to sick glee. Goro hated all of them.

Seeing no real alternative, Goro walked over to Kurusu, sheathing his saber and making sure to flatten out his face into something comforting, though he wasn’t sure what good it would do when he was probably about to be on the receiving end of Akira’s fury, or worse, his unconditional forgiveness. 

Goro stopped in front of Akira and tentatively offered a hand down to help him up. Akira took it, though his gaze was still glued to his ridiculous heeled shoes. 

“Tell me something,” Akira said. His voice commanded the attention of everyone present. Goro felt a lump rising in his throat and focused on keeping his composure. Akira paused for a minute, then finally, finally tilted his head up to meet Goro’s eyes. 

“So, will you go out on a date with me, or what?”

Goro stepped back as though he’d been shocked, feeling his face go through quite the uncontrolled journey of emotions before he settled on what was old and reliable: anger.

“Really? You’re making a fucking joke?”

“Answer the question,” Akira said, his voice unfairly level. His small smile gave him away, though. He was enjoying this. Had he figured out Goro’s certain… weakness for him? Was that why it was so funny to him? Goro could feel his own gaze sharpening as he watched Akira’s shoulders start to subtly shake. He hated Kurusu, he hated him, hated him, hated him. Goro wasn’t going to answer the question and give him the satisfaction, he decided. He knew how to dodge a question -- his stupid father was a politician. 

“I trust that you’ve regained your memories?” he asked blankly.

“Well, are you gonna answer or not?” Futaba called from behind. 

Goro turned around and shot her a withering glare. Futaba simply flipped him the bird and started whispering something in Ann’s ear that made her start giggling uncontrollably. 

“Heya, everyone,” Akira said somewhat sheepishly, dropping his leader voice and stuffing his hands in his pockets. “I’ve missed you guys.”

“We’ve missed you too!” Morgana said. “Can I please, please live with you again? I miss the chief’s curry…”

“Unbelievable,” Akira remarked. “You can at least pretend that you missed me more than Boss.”

“I did!” Morgana stammered.

“He really did,” Ann laughed. “He got all fussy staying with me because I wouldn’t let him sleep on my bed, but he wouldn’t admit that he wanted cuddles.”

“What? No, that’s… Lady Ann!” Morgana protested. 

The thieves all rushed to Akira at once, exchanging hugs and greetings, and all sorts of sappy shit that Goro was happy he was spared from. He hung out on the edge of all the reunions and waited for them to finish up. Akira’s head eventually poked out of the top of the chaotic group hug to address Goro.

“So, can I ask what you’re doing with the Phantom Thieves, Detective Akechi?”

“I’ve been doing your job , you idiot,” Goro said. 

“Mental shutdowns aren’t really happening anymore this time around,” Akira said. “I’ve… been watching a lot of TV with no supernatural vigilante business to do. Are you really on our side now?”

Goro very much wanted to protest that he was on his own side, thank you very much, but he didn’t get a chance to before Futaba was hopping up behind him and obnoxiously messing up his hair with what she called a “noogie”. 

Don’t pull your sword on her, Goro. Don’t do it. It’ll create more problems than it will solve. 

“Goro here’s gone through a whole character arc since you last tuned in,” Futaba said. “Like Grey Pigeon in Neo Featherman Z: The Movie.”

“That film isn’t even canon,” Goro said through his teeth, knocking Futaba’s arm away. “And I’m not like Grey Pigeon!” Futaba just cackled in response, sticking out her tongue at him. Goro rubbed the bridge of his nose in exasperation. Akira had described Futaba as being “like family” to him once. Goro understood that now. Futaba was like the annoying little sister he never wanted, but somehow got anyway. 

“So, uh… considering the hearts you all have changed on the news,” Akira mused, “I’m guessing Shido’s up next, right? You’ve already done Kamoshida, Madarame, Kaneshiro, and Okumura. Though, you did do Okumura kind of early, didn’t you?”

“A reformed Okumura means far fewer mental shutdowns,” Goro shrugged. “And it was imperative to my survival to change his heart before he could be used as bait for a trap. I believe Haru prefers her father alive, don’t you?” 

Haru grimaced for a second, then cleared her throat.

“Shido is to blame for what happened,” she said carefully. “We need to take him down soon so we can figure out what to do if the public reaction is as strange as last time. What’s important now is that you… that is to say… Akira, you wouldn’t mind training a bit these next few days would you? We were hoping to infiltrate the palace by the end of the week.”

Akira nodded shortly. 

“Alright. I’m going to stay in Mementos and train up for a bit. I know you all want to catch up, but I think I’d be best if I go it alone so I can get more individual experience.”

“That’s too dangerous,” Makoto cut in, shaking her head. “At least take someone with you.”

“Yeah!” Morgana said. “I will gladly stay and be your transportation.”

“Thanks,” Akira said, beaming at the cat. “But I’m good. Akechi, how about it?” 

If the Phantom Thieves were trying to hide their shocked yet enthused expressions, they were doing a shit job. Goro really felt they could stand to apply what they knew about stealth to other aspects of their lives. At least for his sanity’s sake.

“Are you serious?” Goro asked blankly.

“I’m always serious,” Akira said with a shit-eating grin. Goro rolled his eyes but didn’t protest. It took a fair amount of reassurances, apologies, and way too many goddamn hugs to get the Phantom Thieves to leave the two of them in Mementos alone, but eventually, one by one, the thieves disappeared back into the real world. 

With no one around to lead, Joker looked so much smaller. Goro had expected the privacy would kick Akira’s shameless flirting up to eleven, but strangely, the oppressive quiet of Mementos seemed to have the opposite effect. Akira seemed...conflicted. Goro could only assume he was starting to come to his senses. It was for the best, though he couldn’t really say he wanted to talk it out with Akira. If he had his way, they’d team up, beat Shido, and then part ways, leaving behind their rivalry and...whatever it was that was bubbling and threatening to spoil over.

“Well then,” Goro said, just to break the silence. “Shall we go? You ought to start collecting some personas. You can hardly lead them with just the one.”

Akira seemed to be startled by his words, his gaze flickering around until it settled on Goro. He didn’t speak, nor did he advance toward the escalator to indicate that he was, indeed, still on board with the plan to train together. Instead, Akira stood his ground, fidgeting with his hands. Carefully and silently, Akira removed his crimson gloves, tucking them away into the pocket of his lavish black coat. Goro held his breath.

“Take your gloves off,” Akira said. His voice was soft, but it was a command nonetheless. Goro snarled.

“Excuse me?” 

“Please,” Akira added. “Indulge me.”

Goro let out a sigh, rubbing the bridge of his nose in a display of his absolute exasperation with all the day’s events. Cursed. Then complied. He made quick work of removing the gloves and tossing them down to the gritty tracks underneath them. Goro stared at Akira blankly, waiting for an explanation, but one never came. Akira simply stayed where he was for a while, looking at Goro with his intense silver-eyed stare. 

Then after an eternity, he stepped forward, removing all space between them. Goro had only just opened his mouth to protest when he felt Akira’s warm, slightly calloused hand caressing his wrist and pulling it up to their shared eye level. Ice shot through Goro’s veins as he desperately grasped for a thought, any thought to hold onto and process in the expanse of his mind. None came to him. He was only focused on the touch.

Akira’s hand slowed its stroke, two fingers finding his pulse and lingering there. Something in Akria’s expression changed after a few seconds, his forehead smoothing out and his mouth twitching.

“You’re alive,” Akira murmured. “This is real, and you’re alive.”

“...yes.”

“And I asked you out,” Akira said. His mouth was opening up into a proper grin now.

“Stop bringing that up,” Goro growled.

“Sure. When it stops being funny,” Akira said.

Of course, it was still just a big joke to Akira. If he knew how badly his simple, innocent question had sent Goro spiraling, he’d probably be laughing at that too. Goro huffed to himself, finding the urge to shove his hands in his pockets. Except Akira still hadn’t let go of his hand.

Goro looked down at their touching hands, then back up at Akira expectantly. Akira took notice. All humor left his eyes as they glazed over into their notoriously unreadable state. Goro remained on guard. 

It happened slowly -- probably an attempt on Akira’s part to give Goro plenty of time to process what he was doing and pull away if he didn’t want it, but Goro was already so disarmed by the single hand grasping his own that he felt like he was seeing everything from an outside perspective and had no real control over the outcome. Because Akira was carefully pulling Goro’s hand in close to him, the movement as natural and inevitable as the tide, and all Goro could do was watch, entirely dumbstruck.

Then Akira’s lips brushed over his wrist and Goro was violently slammed back into reality. A reality where such a simple touch was so overwhelming and foreign that it felt like a persistent knife wound instead of a rather chaste act of affection. Akira must have felt him tense, as he quickly released Goro’s hand and let it drop like a dead weight.

“Sorry,” Akira said quickly. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have…” he trailed off, bringing one ungloved hand up to play with his bangs, a familiar tick that probed Goro’s brain back to life.

“Do it again.”

The words out of Goro’s mouth were some of the most honest he’d spoken in a while. Akira blinked at him, mouth agape. 

“Alright.”

Akira moved slowly to reach for Goro’s hand again, telegraphing all his movements as if Goro was some sort of rabid animal that would bite him if he moved too quickly. Goro watched intently as Akira pulled his wrist in close and kissed it lightly again. Like the last time, Goro couldn’t help his flinch. But Akira didn’t stop. It was one touch of lips after another, light and quick little points of contact. They were calculated, focused attacks that should have been nothing, but the simple action was making Goro’s knees wobble. 

“Was that okay?” 

Goro could feel the rumble of Akira’s silky low voice as he caressed Goro’s hand against his cheek. Goro swallowed the lump in his throat, then nodded mutely.

“Is this?” Akira asked. He leaned into Goro’s hand that he’d positioned on his cheek, almost headbutting it like Morgana was prone to doing. It was absurd and unfairly cute.

“Yes,” Goro said stiffly. “You don’t have to… this is nothing .” He knew he’d regret hanging onto his pride so fervently, but he also knew better than to expect Akira to be fooled. Akira knew as well as Goro that if Akira were to try something bolder, for example, a hug, Goro might break down entirely.

So why did he still want it so badly? He’d be all too eager to subject himself to being turned inside out and shoved through the wringer if it meant that Akira never stopped touching him like this. 

Perhaps Akira was privy to how hard he was thinking and had misinterpreted it as pure discomfort, because just as Goro had worked up the courage to demand Akira stop with the fucking teasing and kiss him for real, Akira pulled away, taking a step back and removing all their points of contact. 

“By the way,” Akira said, fiddling with his bangs. “Thank you. You know… for taking care of them for me.” 

“Yes, well… it’s clear that I’m not strong enough to take on Shido alone,” Goro said bitterly. “Don’t mistake a tactical decision as some sort of… misguided attempt at connection. I would have handed the group over to you and happily stayed away until before the election if there didn’t seem to be some sort of fucking higher power trying to keep you out of the Metaverse, despite our best efforts.”

“You guys tried a lot of times?”

Goro shot Akira an exasperated look as all the failed attempts played like a pathetic clip show in his head. The time when Ryuji’s phone was quite literally snatched up by a bird before he could activate the Nav, never to be seen again, was a particularly memorable one. 

“Higher power, huh?” Akira said. “I’ve been wondering about that, actually. Something weird happened after we changed Shido’s heart last time, and it seemed like as soon as we started to investigate it, the timeline reset.”

“Put a pin in that,” Goro said. “We need to focus on Shido first.” And Goro really didn’t want to think about being manipulated by yet another malevolent, omnipotent puppetmaster. 

“Right, right,” Akira said, waving his hand dismissively. “Training. Right. I should go collect some masks.” 

“I could use some new ones too,” Goro mused. He’d been thinking of a few ways to utilize technical damage more in battle and wanted to switch up his skill set accordingly.

“I kind of forgot that you’re also a Wildcard,” Akira said. “I’m used to being the only one on the team who can collect personas.”

“Well, I’ve only been able to sort-of recently,” Goro conceded. “After Robin Hood and Loki fused. I guess because before then, I was split, so to speak. Neither was a true, complete reflection of my soul. It’s only natural that I couldn’t invite shadows into a heart that was fractured.”

Akira nodded noncommittally, though his bright, eager eyes betrayed his interest. If given the chance, Akira would probably take the conversation deeper and start probing Goro with all sorts of questions about how he was getting along with the Phantom Thieves and how he was feeling. That sounded like a miserable way to spend their trip to Mementos, so Goro decided to take initiative and begin walking toward the escalator.

“Where are you going?” Akira asked.

“Training, you imbecile,” Goro said. “Are you coming?”

“Not until we’re done talking,” Akira said. 

“And when will we be done, exactly?” Goro asked. He was running out of patience at record speed.

“When you answer my question,” Akira said. “I’ve asked you twice now, and you’re still evading me. Which one of us is the thief and which one is the detective again? Because the way I see it, you stole my heart, and I’m still trying to figure you out.”

“Is that supposed to be a pick-up line?” Goro asked dryly.

“Depends. Did it work?”

“It fucking sucks,” Goro said.

“Ah, that’s a shame,” Akira said with a frown. “I’m going to have to study up and test a bunch out on you until I win you over.”

“Kurusu,” Goro said through gritted teeth. “If you fucking do that, I am going to hurt you.”

Akira smirked, a spark of challenge lighting in his eyes. 

“You promise?”

Oh, what the fuck. 

Goro must have utterly failed at hiding how easily the comment had disarmed him because Akira’s grin only widened as he chuckled.

“Ah, it’s probably too early in our relationship to be negotiating stuff like that,” Akira said. “Especially not before I’ve bought you dinner like a proper gentleman.”

This ridiculous boy was somehow the one person who had jump-started Goro’s shriveled, ice-cold heart into beating again. It was fucking unbelievable.

“You’re fucking unbelievable,” Goro said, voicing his thoughts.

Akira’s performative smirk softened into something bolder than Kurusu-kun the barista’s polite smiles and Sweeter than Joker the Phantom Thief’s dangerous grins. His hand carefully cupped Goro’s cheek, tucking a few stray golden brown hairs that had fallen loose behind Goro’s ear. Goro wondered if Akira could feel his heart pounding in aggressive anticipation. 

“Go out with me,” Akira whispered. 

“Why do you keep asking me that?” Goro asked. “You remember now, don’t you? That I all but murdered you. That I tried to murder all your friends. That I let myself be used to spread chaos and misery to innocent people, just for my own petty revenge scheme.”

“I do remember,” Akira said. “I don’t care.”

“You’re a fool…” Goro murmured. 

“I want this,” Akira said. He reached for Goro’s hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. “I want you . And you want me too, don’t you?” 

“That’s rather presumptuous of you,” Goro said. But he didn’t pull away. “In case you’ve forgotten, I despise you.”

“Liar,” Akira said easily. His hand snaked around the back of Goro’s neck. Akira paused for a moment, waiting for Goro to move or tell him off. They both knew he wouldn’t. Gentle fingers began teasing at the loose hair under Goro’s ponytail. Goro’s breath hitched against his will as he realized all too late that Akira was closer than he’d ever been before. Their noses were just shy of touching. 

“Lying is easier,” Goro muttered. Even if they’d been surrounded by eavesdroppers, it was said so quietly that only Akira could have the honor of hearing Goro’s confession. And that’s what it was -- rather, it was what Akira would be able to get from him. “It’s all I have. Everything that’s real about me is cruel and selfish.” 

Akira’s other hand, which had been hanging loosely at his side, had now found its way onto the small of Goro’s back. With Akira this close, it was hard to see his entire expression, but Goro could feel the way Akira smiled as he angled his face to whisper against Goro’s cheek.

“Be a little selfish, Goro.”

Goro reached up and grabbed Akira’s chin with his left hand, forcing him away from his cheek. Akira blinked at him in surprise, waiting patiently for Goro to decide what he was going to do with him. But in reality, Goro had known what he wanted for a long time. Maybe he wasn’t good enough for it, and maybe it would be a stupid, short-lived mistake that would end in an explosive fallout. But Goro was going to be selfish and chase it anyway. 

He leaned in to meet Akira rather than pulling the other boy towards him, but his tight grip on Akira’s chin stayed. He needed something to ground him -- some semblance of control. Goro decided that he couldn’t fold no matter what. It was just Akira’s lips against his. There was nothing special about --

Akira opened his mouth and slowly deepened the kiss with a soft, longing noise and Goro lost his train of thought. It was entirely too much, but not enough, never enough. Goro couldn’t guess how long they kissed slowly and sweetly, only pausing for deep breaths before hungrily chasing affection from each other again. There was nothing urgent or competitive about it. Goro had often imagined kissing Akira would be like another competition. Fast and calculated. With more teeth . The thought made him shiver against Akira, because he definitely did want that, and if Akira’s comments were any indication, he’d be very into that too, which, if Goro thought about it, was about the least surprising revelation in the world. 

Kissing Akira like this felt dangerous in a different way, in the fact that it was so foreign to Goro. No one touched him for this long. No one held him like this. It was his first kiss too, he realized. He’d died in that other time without ever having a first kiss. Such a stupid thing to note, he supposed, but it was really quite indicative of how Goro Akechi had never really lived at all. 

This felt like living. Having Akira so close that they blurred the lines between their beings. At some point amongst the kissing, Goro’s arms had shifted, wrapping around Akira’s stomach and clinging desperately. 

“Alright,” Goro said. A low, questioning noise came from Akira’s throat. Goro wanted to catch the noise between his teeth and shut Akira up for the rest of the night. But he also wanted to find out what other sounds Akira made when he was kissed. He wanted to wake up in that dusty, cramped attic to a pair of clear grey eyes and a tangle of limbs. He wanted Akira to want him. 

“I accept. Let’s go on a date, then.”