Chapter Text
It's late February when he gets the call from Sae-san. "Goro Akechi is alive. For now, at least."
The curry in his mouth turns to ash. He nearly spits it out. "Excuse me?"
"They found him about a week ago. A good samaritan called to let them know. His condition was... not ideal. There was a lot of internal bleeding." He can hear her lean back in her chair. She lets out the sigh she sighs when she's pinching the bridge of her nose.
Akira swallows, resists the urge to choke on his food. He takes a steadying breath and drinks some coffee to help the lumps of rice go down. "Where- where is he, Sae-san?"
The telling sound of her sitting at attention in her chair. "You're not going to fight him, are you? It wouldn't look good for you to get kicked out of a hospital."
"So he's in a public hospital. Which one?"
"One near Kichijoji. Lucky for you, he starts to accept visitors today. Be on your best behavior, alright? The doctors I've spoken to say his condition's improved. I haven't been down to check on him yet, I've been caught up a case."
"I'll behave, I promise." He nods and winks, even though he knows she can't see. It's only after he hangs up that he lets his fists clench. Alive again. He's gone back and forth between life and death enough that Akira's nerves have started to wear thin.
He rubs a hand over his eyes, then responds to some of his unanswered messages:
Ryuji: hey dude, are you busy today? a new movie came out and i was wondering if you wanted to check it out with me.
Akira: Can't today. I have important business.
Ryuji: awwww man. what kind of important business.
Akira: I have to go to the hospital. Will update you later.
Ryuji: wait WHAT? who's in the hospital???!!?!?!?!
Ryuji: AKIRA!?!?!?!?
Makoto: Hello, are you free? I was thinking about taking a trip to Ogikubo and getting some ramen.
Akira: Makoto, can we do that next week? Something came up.
Makoto: So Sis called you too.
Akira: When did she tell you?
Makoto: About 10 minutes ago. Are you sure you want to do this?
Akira: Someone has to.
Makoto: ...Will you be okay?
Akira: If not, I can pretend.
Makoto: Okay, that's not really healthy.
Ann: Hey Akira!!! The crepe place in Shibuya has a two for one deal. Want to go get one?
Akira: What kind of flowers do you get a guy who's died twice.
Ann: Oh you're fucking kidding me.
Akira: Nope. Sae-san confirmed.
Ann: I think roses look nice, but I don't really know what the hospital would or wouldn't let him have.
Akira: I'll drop by the underground mall, then.
Ann: Be careful, okay?
Akira: Will do ;]
One shopping trip and one train ride later, he's standing outside the door. Steeling himself, he knocks.
Akira should have realized something was wrong sooner.
The doctor inside the room nods in acknowledgement at him. "Kurusu-san is here to see you," he announces, then holds out a hand for him to shake. Akira does, giving a "good student who can do no wrong, no sir" grin and noting the nametag in the short window of opportunity – Keisuke Hiraga – Hiraga-sensei it is, then.
When Akira Kurusu sees Goro Akechi looking frail, he aches. He pushes up his glasses up the bridge of his nose, holding out a small bouquet of roses like a peace offering. Inside is tucked an envelope. The red card clashes with the red flowers, and in the dismal lighting of the hospital, the choice is both gaudy and morbid at once.
Goro is examining him. There is no frost in his eyes. His hands are folded politely in his lap. He bares no teeth and spits no venom. "Oh, hello. Have you come to visit me?" He closes his eyes and smiles in such a mild mannered way that Akira nearly drops the bouquet he's brought.
He takes notice of them, blinks. His expression shifts minutely, fiddling with the hem of his hospital gown. "Those look nice. Thank you."
The doctor stands beside the door, visibly nervous about something but not moving to interrupt at all.
Akira, thrown for a loop, bites his lip. "Ah... yes... you're welcome." As subtly as possible, he slides the note he had written out of the wrapping and into his sleeve. Goro's eyes don't follow it, and the maneuver goes unnoticed. For whatever reason, he feels his stomach drag downwards in response.
"What brings you to see me, Kurusu-san?"
You could hear a pin drop in the silence of the room. Akira takes notice of the doctor nudging the door shut with a careful tap of his loafer.
Kurusu-san.
Not Akira-kun, blithe and sharp. Not even Akira, jaggedly spat out like an insult. No Joker, though that's for the best. Kurusu-san, like Akira is worthy of his respect, like Akira is his peer and not a bug he would love to stomp on.
Akira swallows hard and finally works up the nerve to approach Goro's bedside. "I've heard your recovery is going well, Akechi-san."
This is it, the moment that confirms it. There is no way in hell Goro wouldn't react to Akira calling him by such a formal address, and yet... Goro's face doesn't morph into any particular emotion. His affect is flat.
"It is. Hiraga-sensei says I'm being released in... what was it, again?"
"Three days." The doctor nods sternly, examining his clipboard. His glasses hang a little loosely on the bridge of his nose. "He's in the home stretch, we just want to keep him for observation a bit longer. There were a few abnormalities in his condition when he was first admitted. We'll monitor him, but I believe he'll be good as new in no time." Hiraga-sensei looks up at the both of them, gives a thumbs up that tries to look cool and comes off as awkward.
"Akechi-san," Akira repeats. His teeth sear into the flesh of his cheek.
"Is something wrong, Kurusu-san?"
Alarms blare in his head. His ears ring. After all of this, after every damn thing he's done, this is the thing that breaks him down. He bites the inside of his cheek harshly to keep from doing something stupid, like bursting into tears or falling to his knees in defeat.
Akira keeps a straight face through the sting; putting on the mask, acting like Joker. He is calm, he is collected, he is the leader of the Phantom Thieves for fuck's sake. He can't give up. He can't lose.
"Oh, nothing much. I'm glad to see you're alright." He deposits the roses into a hospital-owned vase, a vessel for recycled kindness. He glances pointedly at Hiraga-sensei. "Actually, do you mind if we talk a minute?"
"Not at all." The doctor tucks his clipboard under his arm and exits. His shoes click softly on the tile as he goes.
Akira hovers over Goro's bedside. There's a bitterness in his throat that's impossible to swallow. He chokes it down anyway. "Akechi," he bites out, tasting the flavor of it. Rotten. "I need you to do something important for me. Okay?"
"...What is it?" He cocks his head. Akira clasps his hand, and the shock that flashes in Goro's eyes bruises him. He watches as Goro reels it in, as his eyelid twitches and his fingers clutch weakly at his bedsheets. The fumes of industrial strength cleaner invade his nose.
Behind his glasses, Akira squints. "Simple. What is my first name?"
"Are we really doing this right now?" Finally, something familiar peeks out from beneath the surface. Annoyance. He sits on his haunches, his cracked lips a hard line.
Akira cannot help but reach from the disposable cup of water on the table beside him, and gently tip Goro's head back. Goro huffs. His cheeks turn pink, of all things, but he lets Akira manuever him into a position where he can drink comfortably. "You looked thirsty."
Goro licks his lips. His warm fingers twitch beneath Akira's. Dimly, he registers they're still touching, but somewhat selfishly doesn't move his hand.
Again, stubbornly, he repeats, "What's my first name?"
A long period of silence. Goro's expression is full of pity. Akira is sick to his stomach. His lip trembles. His eyes burn. He can hear the petals rustle. Why is he only now feeling the thorns through their cellophane casing?
Goro Akechi is not the type to pity. He's angry and cynical and loud. Akira has taken the pains of getting to know such a force of nature. They've fought with and against each other, turned the tides and beat the odds...
"Are you... Makoto-kun? You look like a Makoto."
Akira's heart crumples in his chest. Some hurt must show on his face, because Goro backpedals, eyes wide. "Damn, no, I guess not."
"Describe one of my friends. This is even easier. You don't even have to give a name. Just tell me what one of them looks like."
"Why are you doing this?" Goro's tone takes on a high-pitched edge. It's sharp like a blade.
"Please. Indulge me."
Finally, Goro snaps. "I can't. I fucking can't. I don't remember, Kurusu-san."
Akira draws his fingers back. His hand shakes. "What do you remember?"
"Everything is a blur. I get slices here and there, of my mother and my no-good father."
"Do you remember anything from this past year? Anything Shido had you do?"
"What are you talking about?" Goro's eyes are wet with tears. "He's never contacted me for anything. He's too busy in the political world."
This is when it sets in. Akira feels like he is in a free-falling elevator. His feet have left the ground, and he's grasping desperately for anything that will make the drop less deadly. His voice is thick. "Holy shit," he whispers. "What happened to you?"
He looks down at himself, avoiding eye contact. "They're saying I have memory loss. Not complete memory loss, but... there are large sections that I can't recall. Anything recent is quite blurry. I can sort of recall how I felt in that time, but... that's all."
Akira Kurusu goes pale. He's lost the script, he can't charm his way out of this one. Can't say something insightful or kind to reassure Goro Akechi. All he can think is, Maybe Goro Akechi really died this time.
"Who am I to you?"
"From the way you're acting," Goro mutters, "it's like you were my boyfriend or something."
"I– I don't think I was. I don't know if I could have been, after what happened."
"Oh, well then! What fucking happened?"
Akira brings out a pen, writes his chat ID on a scrap receipt he has. "When you're released, talk to me. I have... I have to go do something right now. I'm sorry I couldn't stay longer, Goro-kun. Get well soon, okay?" He shoots a weak smile over his shoulder. Goro nods, shifts, offers the barest smile back. A courtesy Akira isn't sure if he deserves.
On his way through the door, he passes Hiraga-sensei. The man grimaces. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you immediately. Akechi-san is quite upset that he can't remember as much as he used to. I should have considered how that would make you feel." Hiraga-sensei pats him on the shoulder. "I'm deeply sorry, Kurusu-san."
Akira can only bring himself to shrug his shoulders. "It's... fine."
"No, it's not," he insists. "Look, when I was your age, I met someone who deeply touched my life. If he ever forgot who I was, it would devastate me. If I ever forgot him... I don't know what I would do. He's the one who helped me realize I wanted to join the medical field."
Akira looks up at the doctor's face, the feelings he's shared. He glances around, looking for other staff. "Did you..." His voice is deadly silent.
Hiraga-sensei nods, shifting his jaw. "I loved him. I don't think it was returned, there was a lot on his shoulders." He shrugs. "But my life was enriched by him being in it. I have a partner now that I deeply love. So, Kurusu-san. I want you to be an enrichment to Goro Akechi's life. He needs a rock right now. Even if he doesn't know you, even if he doesn't... feel a certain way about you anymore, he desperately needs a friend."
Akira nods. "I understand. I'll try and help him out. I'm good at helping people."
"Good." Hiraga-sensei lets go of his shoulder finally, waves goodbye.
Akira waits until he's outside the hospital to cry.