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(So one-two-three and we'll tie the tourniquet)
A mistake, a hiccup, the tiniest of errors but Akira wants to scream-
It was a domino effect, one that started with a fiery blast and a slip, and now that damn Shadow has him at knife point, a wicked grin sharpening the malice in its ugly face.
"Oh, this is one of your friends, isn't it? Well then, let's play a game, o Wild Card, " it sneers, yellow eyes glimmering, " if you play just how I like, you'll get him back in one piece."
Akira has done countless of negotiations, has worn such a painfully similar grin that was in front of him now, has felt that same streak of malicious pride as he held a gun to head of a weakened enemy-
But he's never had his position reversed.
(Pull my strings and swallow ichor)
He's as taut as a bowstring, any lazy confidence of Arsène's gone and leaving him with the shell of the shy boy he really was.
He could faintly hear the yells of the others, from Morgana's angry mewls to Futaba's tinny computerized words, but his eyes were focused on the line of ragged metal pressed against the pale plane of an unguarded neck, blue eyes blown wide from underneath a white and red kitsune mask. (Why did he freeze? Why won't he do anything?!)
"Just give me what I want, and I'll let your little fox go."
Make your next move carefully, Joker, Arsène's said at the back of his mind, cautiously echoing Akira's screaming alarm bells.
A hitch of breath. A string of words glued together in sloppy pins of false confidence.
A pause. A malicious smile growing impossibly wide over a pallid and rotting face before a gnarled hand came around to Yusuke's face and crushed his mask into his skin, smearing something viscous and dark over his face until it forced its dripping fingers into his mouth.
Wrong choice.
(Fire burns and the rags are torn apart)
"No !" Akira cried, his own cry mingled with the voices of the others as Yusuke fell to his knees, hands clawing at his eyes and face, chest heaving as he struggled for a breath. They all ran forward toward him, only to slam into a dark web-like wall that erupted from the group and surrounded both Yusuke and the Shadow.
The Shadow laughed, stepping back from Yusuke and twirling its knife in its slimy fingers. "I warned you, little Joker!"
Akira could feel something like another heartbeat in his chest flare painfully like a sun struggling to keep alight, and he realized it was his bond to the Emperor itself tearing apart. At the realization, Akira looked to Yusuke, and saw a hazy shape above him clutching at its throat just as Yusuke was, and he realized it was his Persona, Goemon's form misshapen and stained black.
Veins of ugly darkness pulsed through Yusuke's face and spread upward toward Goemon, black dripping from his eyes, ears, nose, and cracked lips. Goemon was struggling against something, and Akira realized he wasn't fighting against whatever that Shadow had shoved into his mouth but his Persona itself.
Yusuke's eyes snapped open and he yelled a hoarse "Goemon, no!" as Goemon, now limp, washed-out, and zombie-like, raised an arm and swung a blast of super-charged ice toward the party.
Akira was knocked back from the blow, eyes blown wide.
"The Shadow wanted to play a game," he thinks, "but doesn't want to get its hands dirty ."
So it turned Yusuke into a kamikaze pilot while it watched from the sidelines.
(I can't inhale anymore)
Useless, helpless, so pathetically frozen that Akira couldn't do anything but tear fruitlessly at the makeshift cage as Yusuke struggled to try and get his Persona under control, but his gasps had turned more and more ragged as the liquid began to fill his lungs, the black of it staining his lips and the ground in front of him as he choked and heaved.
Akira had a flash of a reckless thought, and proceeded to press a hand to the webbing and freeze a patch of it despite the yells from his team, kicking at it until he forced his way through, though his hips and legs remained stuck as the webbing started to wind around his legs, eventually pinning his arms.
"Fox!"
At the sound of his name, Yusuke looked blankly up toward the other, eyes so devoid of warmth that it sent a wave of ice through Akira before Yusuke raised an arm and sent a blow straight toward him. Akira felt the blow tear past him and slice his cheek open raw, causing him to pause long enough for Yusuke to stand and wrap his hands around Akira's throat, the fabric of his gloves rough against the skin there as he squeezed.
There wasn't a glimpse of Yusuke behind the shattered remains of his mask, his skin bloody and cut open from the shards of it. The color of his eyes had drained away to a sickly black, his face empty and listless.
(Now I know this has always been my fault)
"Fox, this isn't you, it's the Shadow, please, you need to wake up," Akira tried, his voice weak against the digits at his throat, but to no avail as they only tightened, and Akira saw stars as his heartbeat pounded in his temples.
(No, no, no, no, no )
Akira forced one of his arms through the web in a rush of desperation, and clutched at Yusuke's wrists, before moving to Yusuke's ruined cheek, breath wheezing and mind spinning. "Yusuke, please ," Akira croaked, and something slipped in Yusuke's face, his eyes going bright and his face shifting into one of horror for an infinitesimal second.
"Akira?"
(Yes yes yes he's back he's back it's working- )
An angry snarl shattered air behind Yusuke, and quick as a shadow a blade tore itself across Yusuke's throat, a rush of crimson following the line as his eyes go wide.
"You cheated, silly Joker;
only I get to make the rules. "
(And I can't inhale anymore)
"No!"