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If Akechi had known, six weeks ago, what stealing Kamoshida’s heart would lead to, he would’ve thought seriously about calling the whole thing off. Oh, not the police investigation and the Phantom Thieves and the rumours at school. He could handle all of that. But ending up with a handful of other Shujin third years chaperoning this stupid field trip to the TV station? Absolute dealbreaker.
Especially now he knew who the guest was.
Kurusu was dressed in his iconic outfit, the one that had made Akechi loathe him on sight when he first started turning up on television a few months back. No-one wore that much white unless they were making a statement. His dry cleaning bill alone must be astronomical, not to mention whatever he paid for the custom tailoring. His glasses - completely unnecessary, Akechi was sure - were designer frames, and the single diamond stud he wore in his right ear glittered under the studio lights.
Akechi supposed he saved money on his hair, which had clearly never met a comb it wouldn’t gleefully devour.
"He’s so cool, isn’t he?" Ann whispered. "Do you think I could get him to read my fortune if I ask really nicely?"
Akechi rolled his eyes and didn’t deign to respond.
"We’re here today with one of our most mysterious guests," the host was explaining dramatically to the camera. "Kurusu Akira - certified psychic and consultant to the Special Investigations Unit. Last time we had him on, he helped an audience member find her long-lost sister! Who knows what might happen this time?"
Kurusu inclined his head briefly with one of his trademark half-smiles: not quite a smirk, never reaching his eyes. He was always laconic, never speaking more than he had to, instead spending his time listening and watching. His fans referred to his air of mystery. Akechi assumed it was a tactical necessity for a con artist whose act relied on gleaning information from those around him and feeding it back to them without giving himself away.
It was called cold reading, Akechi had learned from his research, and it accounted for about two-thirds of Kurusu’s sham ‘powers’. He clearly had a knack for understanding people, a level of empathy that gave him keen insight, and the patience to let others fill the silence around him with useful hints.
As for the rest… well, that was the part that frustrated Akechi, that had him watching the wretched Tokyo Psychics show every week just for Kurusu’s slot. There were times when Kurusu simply knew things he had no business knowing. He had solved several crimes that had baffled the police. He had exposed secrets that would never otherwise have seen the light of day. And he had accurately predicted that terrible subway crash in April - had even told the Tokyo Metro to shut down for a week to prevent it.
Not that they’d listened. Akechi was pretty sure Kurusu had been counting on that. If they’d followed his advice and avoided the disaster, he wouldn’t have been launched to the heights of fame he now enjoyed, would he?
"As a matter of fact," the host was saying, "we’re hoping to get your thoughts on something in particular, Kurusu-kun."
"Oh?" Kurusu’s voice was always surprisingly deep. He leaned back on the couch, folded his arms casually. "Go on."
"I’m sure you’ve heard all the buzz about Madarame’s shocking confession. Everyone’s talking about these so-called Phantom Thieves! Apparently the police are even investigating them. Can you tell us anything?"
"About an ongoing investigation?" Kurusu shook his head. "Of course not."
It was maddening, how he gave them nothing to work with, didn’t even try to keep the interview going smoothly or play up to the audience. It was even more maddening that it seemed to work in his favour, only adding to his enigmatic image.
"But what about your own opinion?" the other host jumped in eagerly. "Do you believe they’re heroes of justice?"
Kurusu paused for a moment, as if he were considering whether or not to answer.
"No," he said.
A ripple of reaction went through the audience. Akechi glanced at Ann and was pleased to see that she no longer looked quite as enamoured of Kurusu’s silly posturing.
"Then you think they’re criminals?"
"No," Kurusu said, with another of those irksome almost-smiles.
"Then what?"
Kurusu tilted his head back, contemplating the ceiling for several theatrical seconds. Then he sat up smoothly, resting his hands on his knees, and looked into the audience as if searching for someone. Akechi felt an unexpected shiver go down his spine, half-expecting Kurusu to lock eyes with him, but that inscrutable gaze passed him by without pausing.
"I think they’re pursuing their own goals," Kurusu said. "I don’t believe they acted against Kamoshida or Madarame for the greater good. It benefited them directly in some way. That’s how we’ll catch them: by figuring out who had the most to gain from those confessions."
"That’s not true!" Morgana protested, fortunately lost in the murmuring of the audience. "They were hurting tons of people—"
Akechi reached across Ann without looking and squashed the cat back into Haru’s bag.
"But… he isn’t wrong, either," Haru murmured, a troubled expression furrowing her brow. "We had personal reasons to target both of them—"
"We’ll talk about this later," Akechi hissed. "When we’re not in public."
"So you’re confident they will be caught, Kurusu-kun?" the host asked.
Kurusu shrugged.
"The future isn’t clear," he said. "Maybe it hasn’t been decided yet. And who knows, maybe they’ll prove me wrong."
He smiled, a sideways pull of his mouth that was both more and less expressive than his usual barely-there amusement.
"It might be interesting to be wrong for once."
Akechi wanted to strangle him with that stupid cravat thing he was wearing around his neck.
"But as we all know, you haven’t been wrong yet!" the host chirped. "And speaking of predictions…"
Kurusu nodded, reached into the inner pocket of his jacket, and pulled out a deck of cards with a flourish.
"Please choose someone from the audience for me. Just to be sure there’s no bias."
Akechi would bet every yen he possessed that there was plenty of bias in these little stunts. That if the hosts weren’t actively colluding, they were prompted in some way to pick a target that Kurusu could work with. He clearly had a type: usually female, always credulous, someone who was guaranteed to ask him some vague and unprovable question about their love life or their test scores…
And then suddenly there was a microphone in Akechi’s face.
"How about you?" The host was beaming at him like he’d won a prize. "Do you have a question for Kurusu-kun?"
Akechi had never been so glad of his iron control over his own expression. Beside him, he heard Ann’s muffled squeak of surprise.
He took a moment to compose himself, and gave the host his sweetest smile, the one that would make what he said next sound playful instead of accusatory.
"If I did, surely Kurusu-kun wouldn’t need me to say it out loud?"
The host and the audience laughed.
"That sounds like a challenge," Kurusu remarked.
Akechi turned to look at him. This time, their eyes did meet. It felt like stepping into a strong wind. Kurusu’s focus on Akechi was so intense it was almost a physical force.
Akechi didn’t flinch, didn’t look away. He tilted his chin up slightly, held Kurusu’s gaze, and silently confirmed: It is a challenge. Do you accept?
A flash of something crossed Kurusu’s face. Akechi couldn’t tell if it was irritation, or amusement, or maybe even delight, but he was certain it was the most honest reaction he’d seen from him.
"You’re right, you don’t need to say it out loud." Kurusu began to shuffle the deck he held, moving the cards fluidly past each other with nimble fingers. Akechi didn’t bother watching for the trick there: he’d studied Kurusu’s techniques enough to know that he was too quick and too skilled to get caught forcing a card. "I know what your question is."
"Really?" Akechi let his smile turn a little bit sharp, only for Kurusu. "Go on, then. Answer it."
He knew how this worked. Whatever Kurusu said would sound good but be completely empty of meaning, a platitude that could apply to dozens of topics, and even if Akechi claimed he was wrong, Kurusu would find a way to re-frame it. Akechi had already decided he wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of any response at all, no matter what he came up with.
The cards danced in Kurusu’s hands, and then all at once he snatched one out of the cascade, holding it up between two fingers as the rest of the deck fell neatly into his other hand. Kurusu looked at the card for a moment, smiled his not-smile, and flipped it around so the audience could see.
"The Hermit, reversed," Kurusu said, locking eyes with Akechi again. "You’ve always been alone. You’ve always wanted to be alone. You do your best work without other people dragging you down. But recently you’ve found yourself part of a team, and before you even realised it, you weren’t alone anymore."
In that instant, as far as Akechi was concerned, there was no-one in the room but the two of them. No sound, no movement, not a single other thing in the world except Kurusu and his cards and his lies.
He was guessing. He was fishing. There was no way he could know...
"That wasn’t an answer," Akechi pointed out, quiet and calm, with his hands clenched so tightly on the edge of his seat that his fingers were turning numb.
"I know, but I had to get a read on you first," Kurusu replied with a smirk. "Attune myself to your thoughts."
Liar, charlatan, fraud… Akechi would figure him out, would expose him, would show everyone how he’d deceived them. Just as soon as he figured it out himself.
"I see. Then by all means, continue."
"You don’t believe in much, do you?" Kurusu went on, conversationally, like the rest of the world didn’t exist for him either, like he was raking through the ashes of Akechi’s soul in search of embers. "You certainly don’t believe in me. You don’t believe that people want heroes. But you know they want martyrs."
Oh.
Oh, of course.
The risk you took with stirring up cinders, Akechi thought, even as his heart pounded and his mind raced, was that sometimes, you struck a spark.
He barely kept the triumph off his face.
"Anything else?"
"I’ve seen enough. I can answer your question now. If you still want me to."
"I do."
Kurusu leaned forward, playing the tarot card between his fingertips, regarding Akechi solemnly.
Then he grinned. It was fleeting, shocking, like the clouds parting to reveal clear sky for just an instant.
"You think this is all a sham. You want to know how the con works. And I know you won’t believe my answer." Kurusu sat back, tossed the deck of cards up in the air, and somehow caught them all neatly with the Hermit shuffled back in amongst them. "This power that I have is real. It’s as simple as that."
"Wow!" Noise and colour rushed back into Akechi’s awareness, the host gushing at his side. "I think I just got chills! Did Kurusu-kun give you the answer you were looking for?"
Akechi shrugged and leaned back in his seat, all the tension gone now, transmuted into a thrill that ran molten beneath his skin.
"Hmm…" He smiled charmingly up at the host. "I was hoping for the winning lottery numbers, but ah well."
She laughed. The audience laughed. Even Kurusu laughed, a low chuckle, as he slipped his cards back into his pocket.
"I charge extra for that," he said easily. "And I know better than to try and win over a skeptic."
And then the host was bustling back to the couch while the audience whispered enviously about all the things they would have asked, and the interview was moving on to the usual fluff about how Kurusu managed to balance his work with school, and Akechi sat through it in a haze, turning his shining new understanding over and over in his head.
"Holy shit, Goro," Ann hissed, grabbing his arm and giving it a little shake. "He read you like a book! Do you still think he’s a fake?"
"Oh, now I’m absolutely sure of it," Akechi murmured back distractedly.
"What?" Ann stared at him, then threw up her hands in despair. "Oh my god, you’re impossible. Can’t you just admit to being wrong for once?"
It might be interesting to be wrong for once.
Well, Kurusu’s life was about to get very interesting.
Because okay, yes, somehow he’d been unbearably, excruciatingly accurate on all points, far more specific than his usual vague answers… but Akechi still didn’t believe in psychic powers.
He was, however, very familiar with the advantages that could be gained via eavesdropping. And he had an excellent memory for his own turn of phrase.
It had been when Morgana told them that becoming more famous as Phantom Thieves might unlock the depths of Mementos. Akechi had seen the eagerness in the others’ faces, had recognised the danger, had pushed back at once.
"People don’t need heroes," he’d warned them. "They need someone to blame. If we try to be heroes, we’ll end up as martyrs, I guarantee it."
He remembered the moment clearly, remembered their dismay and irritation, remembered exactly where they’d been standing.
Right in front of that locked door in Mementos itself, where no-one should have been able to overhear.
We’re not the only ones who can use the Metaverse. Madarame said as much. I wonder, Kurusu Akira, do you by any chance wear a white mask?
The show was wrapping up, the hosts thanking Kurusu for his time and closing out the segment with their usual routine. The moment the cameras stopped rolling and the lights came up, Akechi was on his feet.
"Where are you going?" Ann demanded.
"To get his number," Akechi replied, already starting towards Kurusu.
"Um, what?"
Akechi didn’t bother with a reply. He could explain later. Or not. Perhaps this was something he should keep to himself for now. Haru had an excellent poker face, but Yusuke and Ann were terrible actors. Perhaps this was Akechi’s game to play.
After all, he did his best work alone.
Akechi walked up to Kurusu with a confidence that was rewarded by his complete attention, dark eyes watching intently from behind those fake glasses, mouth quirking in a barely noticeable smirk.
Challenge accepted.
"Tell me," Akechi said, with his best, most winning smile. "Are you familiar with the works of Hegel?"