Chapter Text
At least Shido thought he was a decent shot.
Goro hated his final thoughts more than he hated getting shot. Getting shot was something he could handle. It was tangible and quantifiable. But here he was, in his bastard father’s cognitive hellscape, bleeding out – but at least father dearest thought he was good at his job .
Goro knew he was going to die here. He’d spent enough time walking this tightrope to know when he’d fallen off. He had a feeling Ren knew it too, as the flood door behind Goro shook with the force of his fists.
His cognitive double had disintegrated when he shot it, but the damage had been done. His breathing had become ragged, enough so that each breath was a chore. His hearing, too, had begun to go. Not even the groaning metal of Shido’s ship cruising over Tokyo was enough to rouse his senses.
“Ren…please,” He began, his final words crisp in the slog of his blurring mind. “Change Shido’s heart…in my stead.”
Before he could hear a reply, his vision began to swim. What remained of his hearing began to blend into his sight, swirling and fading all at once. Something in the back of his mind snarled at the idea of changing Shido’s heart, but Goro was too far gone to care.
Goro wasn’t one to believe in a higher power; he’d never had the luxury of intangible faith, but dozens of different religions insisted there was something after death.
In recorded history, there were countless accounts of people with near-death experiences seeing a light or having flashbacks. Despite facing off against his demise every other Tuesday, what happened after death had never been a major concern to him. Interesting conversation topic to make himself look well-rounded, sure, but not something that he would waste his meagre free time on.
Perhaps he should have allotted more time for such thinking.
As the sights and sounds of Shido’s cruiser began to fade away, new sensations began to trickle into his periphery. The first thing he felt was something damp on his forehead. It was tickling and slightly cold, but not entirely unpleasant. After a few groggy moments, he realized it must be his hair. He tried to reach up and brush it out of his eyes, but felt his body resist him. His limbs felt leaden and exhausted, like he’d just run a marathon. As he tried to move, his hands slid over a dense fabric, knotted and worn, but soft all the same. The gentle whirl of something electric was the next thing to come to him. It was nothing like the heavy machinery of the engine room. It felt lighter and somehow familiar.
As the pounding in his head gradually subsided, he worked to open his eyes and regretted it almost immediately. Above him was a ceiling lamp with a screw missing. The ceiling itself was low enough that even in the dark, he could see the spot where the fourth screw would have secured it to the ceiling.
He was Home .
Not in his Shibuya apartment, not in the metaverse, but his childhood apartment. A place that he thought existed only in his memory. Maybe dying in Shido’s palace wasn’t so bad. Sure, he failed in his plan for revenge, but at least he got to hallucinate his childhood home before he fucked off entirely.
On shaky legs, he managed to stand up. Being several feet shorter in this memory was an odd shift in perspective, to say the least. He seemed to be wearing pajamas of some type, vastly different from both of his metaverse outfits.
The apartment wasn’t large. In a matter of steps, he was able to check most rooms. It was extraordinary what the human mind was capable of on the brink of death. There were details of their old apartment that Goro didn’t even know he remembered. Little and big things both: the chipped cookie jar, the mismatched dish towels, even the missing screw in the ceiling light.
The pain in his chest from being shot had almost entirely faded. The clanging machinery of the engine room had receded into memory; all he could hear now was the muffled bustling of the city below their dingy apartment. It was a serenity that he didn’t know he had the capacity to feel anymore. He wasn’t at peace; he knew that he didn’t deserve to die in peace, but it was damn near close.
He returned to the living room and closed his eyes as he lay down on the old woven rug. For someone who didn’t believe in anything after death, this hallucination wasn’t all that bad.
As Goro began to drift off in his child-self’s body, in his childhood home, he had almost forgotten that he was dead.
Until the second shot went off.
Goro was startled into an awareness that could only have been honed through years of combat. He stumbled to his feet, still unused to his shorter stature, and rushed towards the noise. At the end of the hallway, there was a light on under one of the closed doors—the bathroom door.
For the second time in his life, he wrenched the door open and was greeted by his mother’s freshly crumpled corpse. Her pistol, which was usually kept in the lockbox in one of the kitchen vents, was lying just out of reach of her right hand.
It felt wrong to see the normally pristine gun speckled with her blood. On nights when she came back from the nightclub late, she would take it out of the lockbox and meticulously polish it. To this day, he didn’t know if she knew he watched her do it. When Goro was younger, he didn’t know anything about gun laws or the permits required to carry one. He just thought his mom was a secret agent of some kind.
His mother was the closest thing he ever knew to a hero after all.
When he’d first found her corpse, he threw himself at her and pitifully begged her to wake up. It was all a bit of a blur, but he’s pretty sure his neighbor called the police when his begging got too loud.
This time, he didn’t bother. He’d seen enough bodies to know when someone was dead.
Even in death, the universe refused to show him anything but his greatest regrets. He leaned against the bathroom wall and sat down on the floor. The air was already filled with a coppery twang as he breathed as deeply as he could.
“I’m sorry, Mom,” he told her lifeless, glassy eyes. “I tried to take him out, but he got me too.”
Looking at the gaping hole in the side of her head, he laughed humorlessly.
“At least I’m taking after you.” Goro chuckled, rubbing his chest where the bullet hole used to be.
After a few moments, he started talking to her again, in a voice barely above a whisper. He told her about how far Featherman had progressed after her death. He told her about getting to work as a detective. He told her about being on TV.
He told her about Ren and how he was going to make sure Shido never hurt anyone ever again.
He told her about every little good thing that he had done in his life. He may have failed her in getting vengeance, but he hoped that she’d be proud of something he’d done.
Even though she would have hated the monster that became of her son.
His good memories ran out faster than he would have liked, and the tile floor began to feel as cold as his mother’s cooling corpse.
Goro wasn’t sure how much time had passed in his strange dreamlike state. He felt remarkably lucid for someone actively bleeding out in a cognitive hellscape. Despite his own situation, he was unable to look away from her eyes.
A harsh pounding snapped him out of his trance.
The noise echoed from down the hall, disrupting the fragile silence of the dead. It sounded not unlike Ren’s frantic pounding on the flood door. Goro didn’t move; he was already on borrowed time. As the pounding continued, he finally closed his tired eyes, expecting the vast expanse of nothing to take him at any moment.
Instead, there was an even louder bang, followed by heavy footsteps. Looking up from his spot on the floor, he saw two police officers, one of whom was shining a light right in his eyes. Squinting through the blinding light, he sees an elderly woman standing behind them, looking upon the scene in horror. The woman felt familiar, like someone you’d recognize on the platform from a routine commute to work. After racking his memory, he realized that this was his neighbor. He didn’t remember her name, but the look of pity she gave him was one he would become intimately familiar with.
Events long since past gradually unfurled before him. The details of the officer’s appearance and mannerisms were sharp and clear. It was like seeing an old movie with a modernized resolution. His hazy memory given new life in the form of his dying hallucination.
The officer in front clicked off his flashlight and crouched down to Goro’s level. He reached out to touch his shoulder, but seemingly thought better of it and put his arm down.
“Excuse me, young man, are you okay?” The officer asked.
Goro scrunched his face together in confusion. He didn’t remember this part of the memory because he was too focused on his mom. How am I seeing things that I don’t remember?
He could brush aside his recollection of details like the ceiling light, because even if he had forgotten, it was subconsciously something he once knew. Conditioned for years through detective work and Shido’s mind games, he couldn’t help but latch on to this curious discrepancy.
Maybe if he had better reigned in his curiosity, he wouldn’t be in this situation. Maybe Ren could have avoided the bruised fists.
“My name is Goro Akechi,” He said, still getting used to the sound of his voice. “I’m physically unharmed.”
The officer seemed a bit put off by his choice of words. He guessed that wasn’t how children usually talked. What was he, 9 years old or so?
The crouching officer turned to his partner behind him and muttered something that Goro couldn’t hear. After a moment, the standing officer walked out of the bathroom and into the hallway, pulling out his radio as he went. The crouching officer turned his attention back onto Goro.
“My name is Rakuro Niijima, I’m a police officer.” He said, holding out a badge. “Everything is going to be okay.”
At the mention of his last name, he scoffed. He knew Sae’s father was a police officer, but he didn’t remember meeting him. Was he always the one to come here, or is this my dying mind making shit up? Officer Niijima looked a little bit alarmed by his reaction, but any further questions were interrupted by his partner coming back into the room.
“Backup is here to sweep the scene. The kid looks okay, but I called for an ambulance just in case.” The officer said, sounding tired. “It looks like a standard suicide, but I’ll leave the logistics to the higher-ups.”
At his partner’s blasé explanation, Officer Niijima shot him a scathing glance before turning back to Goro.
“My partner is going to take care of everything here; you and I are going to move somewhere else, alright?” Niijima said, his voice disgustingly gentle.
Goro took one last look at his mother's already cooling corpse as the backup raced into the room. A few medics half-hazardly checked her pulse, but they knew it was a fruitless endeavor. Officer Niijima offered Goro his hand as he silently stood up, but Goro didn’t take it. After a moment, he dropped his hand before leading Goro towards the living room.
He knew from experience that he didn’t need another look at her glassy eyes; his nightmares were perfectly capable of sustaining that particular memory.
Following after him, Officer Niijima looked around their dinky apartment living room, watching other officers and forensics teams setting up their equipment. After some contemplation, he shook his head and gestured to Goro to move into the hallway.
He didn’t try to grab his hand again.
Leaning against one of the yellowed walls was his neighbor from earlier. She wore a sullen, tired expression as she pulled her cardigan close. Goro stared at her for a couple of seconds, trying to remember anything about her.
Everything about this encounter felt strange. It was so long ago that he didn’t remember every single detail, but still, everything felt a little…off, like someone had moved all his furniture a couple of inches to the left.
What if I’m not dying right now? What if this isn’t a hallucination? The metaverse was a strange, strange place…who knew what was possible? Despite the absurdity of the situation, Goro felt remarkably lucid for someone hallucinating.
He felt childish for even considering the possibility. Leave it to Goro to not even be able to die correctly.
If it truly was a death-induced flashback, he shouldn’t be able to deviate from what happened in the memory. He felt ridiculous even considering such a hopeful ploy, but he was never one to leave things unfinished.
Officer Niijima looked even more distraught than Goro’s neighbor. He wore a lost, sorrowful expression that Goro recognized from many nights spent poring over case files with Sae.
“Your name is Mrs. Takahashi…right?” Officer Niijima asked in the same gentle voice he was using earlier. “Would you mind giving me a statement for the record? I…I know it's late, but I’ll try to be out of your hair as quickly as I can.”
Mrs. Takahashi’s eyes were damp, but she seemed too tired to cry. She had bags under her eyes that looked like they’d been there long before tonight.
“Yes, Officer, my name is Aiko Takahashi, and I live just down the hall.” She said as Officer Niijima pulled out a little journal and began writing notes. “I’m afraid there isn’t much I can tell you…I heard a gunshot about an hour ago and called the police.”
She sniffled a bit before continuing.
“Now, I know this isn’t the nicest area to live, but the shot sounded close enough that I was worried that someone I knew might have been seriously hurt.” She said, glancing down at Goro. “I didn’t know Keiko Akechi well, but she was always friendly, even if her…career brought her into some unsavory crowds. Maybe one of her…clients…had a hand in her death?”
Hearing Mrs. Takahashi carefully tailor her language around him gave him an idea. As much as he hated patronization, he made a career out of it. Though his memories from his childhood had dulled with time, Goro was positive that he didn’t learn the full extent of his mother’s job until after she was dead. He may appear as a child; he didn’t live long enough to become anything more , but being underestimated was his bread and butter.
“My mother was a prostitute; she worked at a local club and would sleep with her patrons to make ends meet.” Goro started, carefully watching their expressions while schooling his own. “Though her clients were useless scumbags, they didn’t give her the gun; it was something that she’s had for a while.”
He kept his voice even as he spoke, waiting for any sort of reaction. Both Mrs. Takahashi and Officer Niijima looked a little lost for words. Perfect, a nine-year-old saying shit like this would be disturbing to any adult. He could hear his heartbeat in his ears, strong and steady; nothing could compare to the high of being in control.
After finding his voice, Officer Niijima kneeled down beside him.
“Akechi, what do you mean she had it for a while?” He began. “Did you know that it’s illegal to have a gun like that?”
Goro quickly nodded before explaining.
“Even when she had a really bad day, she would always take time to clean it. I think it was a ritual of sorts for her.” He said. “She kept it in the lockbox in the kitchen vent. I don’t think she knew I knew about it, though.”
Officer Niijima looked increasingly perplexed as he nodded along with Goro’s explanation. Just as he had finished scribbling something in his notebook, an officer walked out of their apartment.
“Hey, Sudo!” Officer Niijima called after the man. “Go check the kitchen vents for a lockbox of some sort.”
The Officer – Sudo apparently – quickly turned around and went back into the apartment. Despite Goro’s foggy memory concerning these events, he was sure that the police didn’t know about Mother’s lockbox the first time around. Goro wasn’t lying about how he knew about it; he had just been too shaken up the first time to give them anything coherent.
Truth be told, he didn’t know what was in the lockbox. It was likely just a cleaning kit for the gun or maybe a bit of cash. Either way, it didn’t matter. What mattered was that he had changed something. If this were truly some fucked up dream, then it wouldn’t deviate from his memory.
He didn’t let himself linger on that possibility for too long.
After watching Officer Sudo walk away, Officer Niijima turned back to Goro.
“Akechi, do you have any relatives or family friends you could stay with? We’ll have to stop by the station to get an official statement, but I’d rather not keep you longer than necessary.” He said, choosing his words carefully. “You’ve been through a lot today. I want to get everything wrapped up as soon as possible.”
As much as he hated being treated like he was made of glass, years of experience told him that it wasn’t worth trying to change people’s minds. They’d just think he was putting on a farce.
In response to the question, Goro shook his head. “It’s just been my mom and me for as long as I can remember; there’s no one else.”
Officer Niijima nodded glumly before rising to his feet. Mrs. Takahashi stood there with the distinct look of someone who could use a smoke or seven.
“Mrs. Takahashi, you're free to go. Thank you for your time.” Officer Niijima said, before handing her a card. “This here is my personal number, if you think of anything else relevant to this…incident…please don’t hesitate to call.”
The two of them shared a sad smile before Mrs. Takahashi retreated into her apartment.
—
The drive to the police station was a silent one.
In the reflection of the passenger window, Goro watched Officer Niijima look over at him every few seconds. He’d opened his mouth a few times, but couldn’t seem to find the right words. Goro found it a little pathetic, honestly. That a full-grown man couldn’t cope with the daily tragedy of police work when he’d managed it as a teenager.
Or maybe he was just incapable of seeing the world as anything but a competition.
Either way, he could see where Makoto got her reckless metaverse driving from. On top of constantly looking at him, Officer Niijima was taking the most asinine route to the precinct Goro had ever seen. Even stuck in a 9-year-old’s body, he could have gotten there faster on foot.
Once they finally arrived at the station, Officer Niijima took an equally ludicrous amount of time finding a parking spot.
The station itself wasn’t too different from the one he was familiar with. Still chronically underfunded and short-staffed, and still crawling with the stench of corruption. It was only, what… 2007? Early enough that Shido wasn’t puppeteering half of the police force, but still, there were tyrants before him, and there would be tyrants after him.
Because Ren couldn’t possibly fail.
As Officer Niijima carved a path through the bustling station, Goro’s eyes were instinctively drawn to the future members of Shido’s conspiracy. Street-level officers under Shido’s payroll had no idea about his involvement in Shido’s schemes, but it had always been a soothing part of his routine to keep an eye on them.
The best kind of puppets were the ones that believed they were pulling the strings after all.
Officer Niijima’s desk was towards the back of the office space. The desk itself was nothing special, the same make and model as every other cop in the station. Files of all sizes were piled high on either side of his computer. A single, yellowed family portrait sat in the only clean corner of the desk.
The disorganization of it all would have given Sae an aneurysm.
While Goro was judging his desk, Niijima ducked into a nearby conference room. A few moments later, returning with a collapsible chair. Wordlessly, Goro sat down as Niijima began playing file tetris in hopes of finding his keyboard.
Goro had long since acknowledged the absurdity of this situation, but the longer things progressed, the more his stomach fell as he approached the territory of the unknown. The unknown itself didn’t scare him; a teenage supernatural hitman wasn’t the kind of job that came with training, after all.
But here it felt wrong .
The events unfolding around him were his reason for fighting so hard, his will, his very reason for living as long as he did. He didn’t have anything as tangible as a family photo, but his past has always been the anchor dragging him forward, a blight that could only be solved through a greater affliction.
Niijima, seemingly finding his keyboard, finally started up his computer with a yawn. Goro wondered if Officer Niijima had lived long enough to see Shido’s reign of terror, if he would have been one of the dozens of crooked cops under his command. Based on what Sae had told him of how he died, he assumed not, but who knows?
Goro stared at him in quiet contemplation as he continued to type away on his keyboard.
“Okay, Akechi, I’ve just put in a request for temporary accommodation,” Niijima began, voice gentle but clearly tired. “While the rest of my team is finishing up at your apartment, you and I are going to file a couple of reports…Okay? Nothing too long, just standard procedure.”
Goro nodded along because that was what was expected of him. He was tired too. Whether this was a dream or not, he didn’t want to think anymore.
Just as Niijima turned his monitor so Goro could look at the screen, the Officer from earlier… Sudo, maybe? Approached Niijima’s desk with haste. In his hand was something that Goro immediately recognized.
His mother’s lockbox.
“Rakuro, you're not going to believe this,” Officer Sudo told Niijima with far too much zest for someone handling a violent suicide case. “I thought this was just another open-and-close suicide, but this is way more high profile than we thought.”
Listening to Officer Sudo’s explanation had Niijima’s eyes growing wider and wider before seemingly coming to his senses.
“Get a hold of yourself, Sudo, the kid is right here!” Niijima replied cuttingly, before gesturing to the side. “Meet me in the conference room in 5 minutes, and we’ll go over it there.”
Not a fucking chance , Goro seethed to himself.
“High-profile? If you have information about my mom, then I want– I deserve to know what it is,” he said to Niijima before Officer Sudo had a chance to leave.
Niijima looks through Goro, but he holds his stare. For the first time since waking up in his childhood apartment, he had a purpose. His father had led them both to their deaths, but this was a chance to learn more about his mother's life. Hallucination or not, he had his anchor.
As if sensing Goro’s newfound resolve, Niijima clenched his jaw before gesturing to Officer Sudo to continue.
Officer Sudo cleared his throat and began to speak, this time in a more professional tone.
“Well, pretty much as soon as you two left, we found the lockbox, it was right where you said it would be. It was really well hidden, though. If we didn’t know where to look, we never would have found it,” Officer Sudo said, placing the lockbox on Niijima’s desk. “While that was noteworthy, the real discovery is what we found inside the box.”
Goro’s gaze had drifted from the Officers to the lockbox sitting in front of him. In the years after his mother died, he’d occasionally wonder what she kept in the box. He’d seen it enough times to tell that it was big enough for more than just her gun. Whatever was in there was what she’d fall back on when she had a particularly rough night. For such a long time, he’d assumed she had been considering her own suicide. Finding a twisted sort of power in finding control over her spiraling life.
“Well, out with it then,” replied Niijima, his patience clearly being tested. “I swear, Sudo, this better be huge.”
Sudo popped open the box with ease, the lock presumably removed in the earlier investigation. Craning his neck, Goro looked inside his Mother’s box. On the surface, it seemed fairly ordinary. On one side, there was a cleaning kit for her gun, though the gun itself was absent. On the other was a small wooden box and a thick, yellowed manila envelope. Though it had clearly been sealed at some point, the flap was worn with use. Niijima, like Goro, seemed to have noticed the envelope and proceeded to pick it up.
“Did you open this Sudo, or was it already open?” Niijima asked.
“It was open long before we found it. Whatever originally sealed it off hasn’t worked in a long time.” Officer Sudo explained. “We think that it’s been opened so many times that it stopped sticking.”
Goro’s eyes were glued to the envelope as he racked his brain. He had watched his Mother open that lockbox over and over and over, so how had he never seen this envelope before? Any logical thoughts about this being a hallucination rushed out the window as every cell in his body yearned to solve this mystery.
Did someone plant the envelope there? No, no one would have gone through the trouble of making it look worn. Did his Mother know he watched her clean the gun, but chose to keep the envelope a secret? Now that was an interesting thought.
Niijima opened the envelope with care and began taking out the various documents inside. After a moment, Officer Sudo gestured to one in particular, and Niijima began to read. Standing several feet above him, Goro was unable to read the contents of what appeared to be a single sheet of paper. Instead, he was forced to wait in trepidation as Niijima’s eyes grew and grew.
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” Niijima said, not as quiet as he thought he was. For almost a minute, he stood there, stunned over something that Goro was dying to know. “Sudo, you’ve verified that this thing is accurate? This isn’t a claim to make lightly.”
Officer Sudo nodded aggressively while Goro watched the exchange, unable to find his voice.
“Yep! I had it looked over. This thing is absolutely a legitimate paternity test .” Sudo said, causing Goro and Niijima both to audibly gasp.
Goro felt his back go rigid. A paternity test? Such a thing existed in his Mother’s possession?
“The rest of the documents in the envelope further back it up, too.” Officer Sudo continued. “I gotta give it to her, this Akechi lady was thorough . She has everything from letters to a freaking ring of all things. The press is going to eat this shit up.”
At the last comment, Niijima snapped back to reality. “Please tell me you didn’t tell the press about this, Sudo. It’s bad enough that Shido is involved with this at all; an up-and-coming politician like that isn’t someone we want to piss off.”
Officer Sudo shook his head aggressively.
“No! No! Of course, I didn’t, but you know how this place is, eyes and ears everywhere, it’s only a matter of time.” Officer Sudo said, still far too calm for someone dropping the news that he was. “I mean, he’s on his way here now, so it’s definitely going to be caught by the media.”
Goro felt the noise of the police station fade out around him as Officer Sudo spoke. It was all happening too fast. Reflexively, he got to his feet. He’d always felt more grounded when standing up; it provided him with more options.
Shido was on his way .
Officer Sudo and Niijima were talking on and on, but their words were blending together. They seemed to be going through the rest of the envelope. Goro subconsciously rubbed his chest. His chest should be torn and bleeding. His legs should be longer and able to get away faster than a child's. His head should be level and logical, and not falling apart at the mention of a single name.
These were the things that should be.
Niijima’s hand was suddenly on his shoulder, and Goro involuntarily flinched away. Officer Sudo, with all his nonchalance, had also turned his attention to him.
Withdrawing his hand quickly, Niijima looked at him with a troubled expression. “Akechi, are you okay?”
Goro took a shallow, stilted breath.
“Fuck no.”