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The last thing Akechi Goro wanted to do on this god forsaken Sunday was be stopped at his favourite jazz club on his first visit of the year. Unfortunately even the defeat of the gods previously toying with his fate couldn’t stop the force that was Kurusu Akira from re-entering his life. A painfully ironic coincidence that both Kurusu and Akechi had decided to reminisce at the same spot on the anniversary of the accursed offer Maruki had made them. Akechi had believed himself to be above such sentimentalities, but alas even his defences weren’t impenetrable.
Nevertheless here sat Akechi, unable to deny how he missed the café, finding himself in an already frustrated state as he swirled his coffee in the cup.
“I don’t understand what you think you could gain from this.” He broke the silence, his eyes dodging his former rival’s. The uncomfortably wide variety of emotions formed a pit in his stomach.
He could feel the other’s gaze on him, concern of all things lacing his tone alongside an unfamiliar but intriguing touch of frustration. “A full night’s sleep would be nice. Besides, you can’t pretend you didn’t have just as many plights with our unresolved ending as I did.” Kurusu pinpointed, seemingly still boring into Akechi’s head with his eyes.
Akechi could do nothing but scoff halfheartedly at the other’s response, almost insulted by the assumption (though that wasn’t to say he was wrong). “My, have you had nothing better to do this past year than mourn a dead man who did nothing but lie to you? I’m sure your associates would be thrilled to know the person who ruined so many plans and cost you all so much was held so dear by their precious leader.” He snarled sarcastically, meeting Kurusu’s eyes with nothing but hostility and bared teeth. He didn’t miss how Kurusu almost seemed to restrain himself before responding.
“They know just as well as you that you were more than a hindrance to me, Akechi.” Kurusu had instinctively returned to calling Akechi by his family-name earlier that day, though he seemed to visibly resent it. “I just want my questions answered. After that I can’t request much of you.”
Undeniably Akechi relished in the pleading insinuation of Kurusu’s request, but the triumphant high it gave him was dampened by what little resistance he put up against Kurusu’s charms. “Requesting the truth from a known liar. I’m disappointed, I’d rather assume you would know how fruitless something like that would be.”
Sadly that resistance shrivelled up and died the moment a frustrated noise ripped through the usually stone faced leader’s lips, somewhere between a growl and a whine. It was needy, aggressive and Akechi wanted it liquified and shot into his veins. “It’s just one conversation. Please, Akechi. No lies, no hiding. Just… clarity. For once, please just let my mind be at rest.” This was downright begging by now and the was no chance in hell Akechi could deny that. To have such power over someone who had beat him so thoroughly in the past… it was exhilarating.
An all too familiar sly smirk slid onto Akechi’s face, his tone lightening into a more teasing purr. “I suppose if you’re so intent on wasting your time I’m in no position to stop you. Fire away, Joker.”
Unfortunately Kurusu didn’t seem as embarrassed by how low he had to stoop as Akechi had hoped and wasted no time getting into the questioning. “You’re alive. Explain.” He demanded, leaning against the counter towards Akechi.
It was no shock that that was where he started, it was his first question to Akechi in Maruki’s reality too after all. “Ah, you’re in luck it would seem. My memory of the events in that palace have become less foggy through time.” He started, revelling quietly in how Kurusu seemed to hang on each word he said. “My survival can be largely attributed to good aim and a few infiltration items you also possess. The Goho-M, I believe you called it. After watching you use it and seeing the materials on your desk, I worked out a rudimentary version of it for myself. Though it wasn’t quite perfect and I didn’t… make it out entirely unscathed, per se, I believe I have you and your pseudo-cat to thank for getting me out of that… rather unpleasant situation.” Kurusu’s eyes focused in on his own as he spoke, reading him for any dishonesty it seemed. Akechi let himself wonder if he still had access to his odd super-sight ability without the metaverse.
“Futaba didn’t pick up on your readings at all after that though.”
Akechi didn’t rush himself to answer, taking a slow sip of his coffee. It was just as he remembered. “Nor did she in any other Palace I followed you in, if you recall. Once you’re in the metaverse long enough, you learn a thing or two about perception.” He answered vaguely, finding comfort in the familiar silent annoyance from the leader figure. “On that note, this leads into my first question.”
It seemed like the other had hoped he would let him barrage him with questions without pushback, but just as he stated Akechi had his own unanswered queries.
“Perhaps not the most pressing first question, but indulge me.” He took another sip of his coffee before setting his cup down with a startling force, his composed demeanour gone in an instant. “Why the ever loving fuck did you just kick the security panels at Kaneshiro’s palace to deactivate them?! Did none of you for a moment consider that perhaps figuring out where the cables led and deactivating them all from there would be more fitting? Or maybe that kicking the panels could trigger an alarm? Or that anyone would notice all the smashed security panels?!”
The mixture of confusion and surprise on Kurusu’s face was far more emotive than anything he would usually show, but did nothing to quell the long simmering furor by his counterpart. “Well, we didn’t- um-” He stumbled, barely able to take a breath and calm himself before he responded. “We figured it would be quicker, and Ryuji suggested it might help with-”
“You went with Sakamoto’s plan?!” Akechi could actively feel the therapist in his head scolding him, only barely stopping himself from jumping over the counter and strangling the other with his bare hands for his stupidity. To think this was the group that outsmarted him.
Swallowing nervously, Kurusu scratched at his neck. “Not our best plan, I’ll admit, however it worked well enough.” He excused weakly, likely wondering if Akechi had been holding onto that outburst for the full year.
Akechi sighed and slumped back into his seat, taking a sip of the coffee to quell his frustration. Once he had calmed himself enough, he opened himself up to further questions.
There was an air of hesitation from Kurusu he didn’t usually get the pleasure of seeing. Always so headstrong and self assured, it made Akechi want to scream. “Where… Where were you? Since Maruki’s defeat I mean. I understand that you didn’t reach out to me, I can’t fault you for that at all really, but I just… Where did you go?” Any trace of the confident and firm voice of Joker was missing, leaving a hurt teenager in his place.
A moment passed where Akechi regretted agreeing to this, but there was no way to back out anymore. “…My mother had often visited a rehabilitation facility while I was young. They were kind to us both and very understanding of her circumstances without ever asking any unnecessary questions. They gave her someone to talk to and took care of her until she felt ready to leave on her own terms.” His eyes drifted along the edge of the counter as he finished his coffee.
The air grew heavy around them as they both failed to break the silence. It never used to be this awkward, though a lot did change since then he supposed.
It took a minute or so for Akechi to clear his throat, changing the topic with as little awkwardness as he could manage. “I got word that your thieving business didn’t quite end until the summer holidays. You even ventured outside of Tokyo from what I heard.” He inquired, recalling catching wind of the rather dramatic calling card sent out towards that Konoe person. He had assumed it was some stunt by rowdy imitators at the time, but was quickly proven wrong when Konoe experienced a change of heart after all.
Kurusu nodded plainly, seemingly still putting together his thoughts. “A road trip turned fighting god again.” Akechi resisted the urge to scoff. How he could say such a thing so casually when fighting just one god had Akechi in therapy for a year was astounding. And annoying. “It took up more of our vacation than planned, but it was nice getting to fight with the others one last time.”
His eye was drawn to how Kurusu’s shoulders slumped forward more. It seemed like he had been standing straighter nowadays, but throughout the conversation he almost looked like was deflating as if the bravado and strength was being siphoned from him.
He continued before Akechi even considered speaking, having gotten lost in thought trying to read his rival’s emotions. “I remember… I remember wishing you were there fighting alongside us. I missed the snarky comments, how you challenged me to be a better leader, the sheer disgusting brutality with which you ripped the Shadows apart… I missed you.” He confessed, a smile on his face that seemed so natural yet not remotely genuine, like he was so used to forcing his expressions it didn’t even register.
As part of Akechi felt guilty, another part wanted to mock him for missing someone like him. How could he feel anything but anger or pain when talking about someone who had hurt him so intentionally and selfishly? Instead he hesitantly prompted further, his voice coming out weaker than he would like, similar to the tone he used with his therapist whenever she called him out on his self destructive behaviour. “Did… Did your… friends ever learn of this?” He asked, deciding only to express the concern he shared for Kurusu’s repute rather than Kurusu himself.
Picking up on Akechi’s own habit it seemed, Kurusu scoffed quietly. “I doubt it. Don’t misunderstand, I know they love and care for me as a leader but they… well, they aren’t particularly observant.” His eyes drifted towards the counter before they grew wide with realisation. “Not that I blame them, of course! It’s no one’s fault but my own that I don’t express my emotions to them. They’ve been nothing but accommodating and always tell me how willing they are to listen but…”
“But sometimes that just isn’t enough?” Akechi finished for him, knowing the pain of empty support and validation too well by now. He was grateful to have at least partially come to terms with how chasing unfulfilled acceptance had lead him down this path, but leaving it was never easy. It was startling to see someone else in such a different situation who could still understand him.
Seeing his own emotions on Kurusu brought back memories. Past him would’ve likely panicked and lashed out instinctively, as he did many times during rehabilitation, but now he felt himself just wanting the other’s feelings to end. If Akechi didn’t deserve to go through all that shit Kurusu certainly didn’t, and as good as his friends’ invitations may be it would take more than that for Kurusu to ever actually accept them.
His words got stuck on his tongue as he waited for Kurusu to finish, who took a shaky breath inward. Akechi’s eyes snapped up to his as he realised the extent of the other’s hurt. “The worst day was our celebration at the beach, ironically enough. I remember seeing everyone so cheerful and overjoyed, Ryuji and Makoto even went ahead and slaughtered some random Shadows just to blow off some steam, but I just… felt alone.” His voice pitched higher, trembling as he huffed out a laugh. “Surrounded by people who love and adore me after just saving hundreds of people I felt like I didn’t deserve to be happy. Incomplete. I felt like my… antithesis was gone.”
He brought a hand up to his face, covering his mouth from sight but leaving enough room not to muffle his voice. “My pillow kept the other’s from noticing how I mourned you, and although this wasn’t the first night where I hid behind it, it was the first night I… I used a few weights in the case and hoped if I wasn’t around someone who would appreciate them would take my place.” His head turned away but Akechi knew all too well how a body trembled when trying to hide a sob.
The older rushed to try and find anything to say when Kurusu’s hand gripped his bare forearm, smearing the some of makeup so carefully applied on it. “Please tell me I’m crazy or pathetic or whatever the hell you want to say. Just… be honest with me. I just need someone to be honest.” He said, his deep breathing failing him.
At last Akechi felt his sense come back to him, retreating into the familiarity of brutal honesty, though for once it was more for the sake of the honesty of it than the brutality. “You’re far more fucked up than anyone would assume.” He stated, a shaky breath that implied amusement leaving both of their lips simultaneously. Ultimately Kurusu turned a bit closer to the other, dark streaks of mascara running down his face.
“If there’s one thing I can count on you for…” Kurusu joked, letting go of Akechi’s arm to wipe at his eyes but only smearing his eyeliner instead in turn.
The two of them shared a laugh, though Akira’s self deprecating while Akechi’s was somewhat unsettled. They each felt like they had been flung into new emotions and forced to stabilise themselves on each other’s unfamiliar familiarity.
After all this time it almost felt wrong to laugh so carefully with the person who had seen so much and so little of him at the same time. Then again nothing ever felt right nowadays, not to Akechi. Living a normal life, getting better, learning to tolerate himself. It all felt disgusting and undeserved. Of course that didn’t mean he would ever stop, his stubbornness wouldn’t allow that for a long while. He would succeed at something— anything, including healing.
Once their small giggle fit passed Kurusu turned to look directly at Akechi with a tired smile, who now understood what the meaning of ‘being starstruck’ was.
Akira Kurusu, Joker, leader of the world renowned Phantom Thieves, looked fucking stupid.
A dopey, dazed and exhausted smile on his face. Eyes red and blotchy makeup around them, as well as all across his cheeks and even some dripping down his chin. He looked like he had entirely lost his composure and Akechi wanted to spend every second of the rest of his life seeing Kurusu so raw and real. This wasn’t the proud leader of anyone, not the man who saved Japan. This was Akira. This was the man Akechi Goro was in love with.
Before any of the embarrassingly unintelligent thoughts that filled his brain could make their way out though, Kurusu spoke first yet again. “You have no fucking clue how much I imagined this moment— Seeing you again, I mean.” He clarified quickly, his tone carrying all the meanings he didn’t verbalise.
“I could guess.” Akechi responses simply, exhaling and looking down with the remnants of what might’ve been joy on his face. “After Maruki’s palace, I did think about reaching out, but I just… knew it was wiser not to.”
Kurusu’s eyebrows raised a centimetre, looking at him curiously as the last tear dried. “You did?”
“The way we parted didn’t sit right with me either, neither then nor now.” He admitted with a slow nod. “That man attempted to take my autonomy and the only choice I had made for myself away from me. Then he had the fucking nerve to take my goodbye away too. I spent the moments that I faded away with the metaverse away from the only person who knew I was gone, let alone who would mourn me.” He saw no use hiding the clear distain he held for Maruki now, not that he did then either.
Kurusu chewed on his lip, contemplating with a blank face. Akechi would be upset at the blank face but really that felt more truthful than any emotive expression, as Kurusu oftentimes seemed to play those up for the convenience of others. Returning Akechi’s honesty was the least he could do he supposed.
“So, you didn’t know you’d live either?” The younger prompted, looking into his eyes deeply. His eyes really did seem to be the only true indication of his feelings, as cheesy as that sounded. Looking into them too long left Akechi with a deep pit in his stomach that made him sick.
“Of course not. If I had I wouldn’t have let Maruki string my corpse around like a puppet to get his way. I doubt he knew I was alive either though. Although he was omnipresent, he wasn’t fully realised at the time of my death it seems. Likely he operated based on your cognition of events.” He spent many nights thinking about this, and he was sure Kurusu could deduce as much.
Kurusu seemed to stiffen slightly at the thought, causing Akechi to cautiously move his hand closer to him. Despite the time they shared, Akechi’s ungloved hands had never been so close to Kurusu’s, or anyone’s for that matter. “Wasn’t it your turn to ask me a question?” He promptly carefully.
Kurusu barely seemed to hesitate, the words already lying on his tongue dormant lay long before Akechi prompted. “Can I kiss you?”
He would likely never forget the shaky breath Kurusu let out when he shook his head, the fear that he had messed up their fragile relationship clear. “On one condition only.” Akechi clarified, witnessing relief fill Kurusu’s eyes just as quickly as panic had.
“What’s the condition?” He rushed, like he was trying to get to kiss him before the adrenaline of asking wore off. Akechi pulled a card out of his wallet, Kurusu’s eyes trained on his hands as he slid it across the counter.
“You call the therapist on this card.”
“Done.”
With that Akechi’s hands wrapped around the strap of his apron and pulled him close, over a year of yearning melting away in seconds.
Suddenly all the wrongs of the day felt right, the tension in the air bursting like a balloon. The kiss itself wasn’t particularly spectacular, a little too cautious on both ends, but it meant far more to them than could be expressed with words in any language. No kiss in the world could convey all the hardship and pain the two of them had gone through to get just this moment of love and understanding, but they would certainly try. They were each other’s equals. They started where the other ended and ended where the other started. They were thesis and antithesis and they were perfect for each other.
Eventually however their lungs realised that they fit together with air better, thus they had to pull away. Their eyes locked together, Akechi’s hands still tangled in Kurusu’s apron as they caught their breaths. Neither of them moved or said anything, just silently praying this was more than a dream or a one-off.
Unfortunately the ringing of Akechi’s phone stole his eyes away from Kurusu. His face fell into annoyance slightly, though his previous bewilderment still held the majority of his expression. “It’s my roommate. She’s likely wondering where I am.”
“You have a roommate?” The other asked, expression unchanged.
Akechi nodded, messaging her back offhandedly before setting his phone away. “An acquaintance of yours, I believe. Hifumi Togo, the disgraced shogi star?”
Kurusu’s mouth curved into a smirk ever so slightly. “Ah, yeah. An ex of mine, I’m not too surprised you get along.” There was no denying Akechi’s slight jealousy every time Kurusu mentioned any exes of his, though he seemingly had a lot. As an idol, Akechi had no interest in drawing more attention to himself by coming out and thus avoided relationships altogether during his fame. Nowadays he simply lacked the motivation.
“Well, we may not get along so well if I come home late and wake her, so I must be going.” He stated, standing from his seat and brushing himself off. “Thank you for the coffee.”
Kurusu looked at him with a crystal clear longing on his face, all the words he didn’t say painfully obvious on his face. Akechi almost wondered how he ever struggled to read him. “Anytime, Akechi.” He stated, visibly downtrodden as he pulled out a cloth and wiped down the counter without looking at Akechi. At least now his final moments with Akechi were on his terms he figured.
What he likely didn’t figure was for Akechi to interrupt his cleaning with a passionate yet painfully brief kiss before slamming down a piece of paper with his number on it aggressively.
“It’s Goro. Don’t forget that.” He stated, leaving behind a speechless Akira in an empty Leblanc.