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It happened suddenly. Too suddenly to account for. It was one of those split-second decisions when rational thinking was thrown out in favor of pure, animalistic instinct. There was a Chimera. It was close to death. It was desperate. It was going for Sumire’s throat. Sumire was injured and hadn’t seen it coming. Akira was healthy and already moving before he could think better of it. Not that he would have made any other decision had he had more time. He pushed her out of the way, pivoted to face the Shadow, raised his arm, and—
You never really got used to pain. No matter how many times you were confronted with it. Countless razor sharp fangs pierced his skin, cutting through flesh and fat and sinew like a hot knife through butter. Akira threw his head back with a choked off scream, feeling his feet go out from under him as the Chimera’s jaw clamped down on his arm and pulled, yanking him from side to side until bone crunched and something in his shoulder popped with a piercing flash of agony. His free hand scrabbled over its face, pushing blindly at the furry maw, feeling blood and saliva drip between them, making his grip slip, his strength quickly fading, pain and blood loss making him dizzy—
It abruptly tossed him aside. He was sent flying through the air before hitting the ground, hard, coming to a tumbling stop on the shiny marble floor and staring up at the bright white ceiling. His vision was blurry around the edges, the room seemed to sway and tilt around him, and he found himself distantly wondering if it was possible to throw up in the Metaverse. It sure felt like it. His stomach was churning and his arm was aching and his head was spinning and every breath felt too small, the air too thin, black dots dancing across his vision, pulsing in time with the pain. He squeezed his eyes shut, allowing himself a helpless whine, a moment to lay still and wallow in his misery because fuck, nothing ever just went his way, did it? There was always some new disaster waiting around the corner. Shit. He really needed a vacation. Then, he took a deep, steadying breath, and pushed himself up on his uninjured arm.
The room spun. His arm pulsed with pain. He gagged. God, it hurt so fucking much. He knew, objectively, that he’d been through worse, but… Ugh, fuck, shit, this was fucking awful. He squinted against the blinding sterile lighting and shining white surfaces, catching a glimpse of the Chimera trying to turn tail and run before it was reduced to a pile of black ash, revealing Goro stood behind it, back hunched and clothes splattered with gore. His chest heaved with panting breaths, his eyes flashed a bright red behind the visors, smoke curled thickly around his body, making him seem more of a mirage than anything, a vengeful god come to wreak chaos on an unprepared world.
He looked pissed. Murderous. Furious. Oh, shit, that was… hot. Akira groaned, laying back down on the cool floor. This was not the time for a fucking boner. It had to say something about him that even while his arm felt like one big mess of white hot pain, he still had the wherewithal to be hopelessly horny over his rival.
The rest of his Thieves quickly gathered around him, speaking loudly and somewhat frantically, yelling things that were largely a jumble of disconnected sounds to Akira’s scattered brain, his body stuffed with cotton and his mind buzzing with static, his arm somehow both hot and cold at once. Hands grasped his upper arm firmly, he was fairly sure he heard the words ‘dislocated’ and ‘count to three’ through the fog and nodded dizzily, bracing himself in time with the one… two…— His shoulder lit up like fire, reaching him even through the haze, making him jolt forward with a sharp gasp, almost headbutting one of his Thieves.
“Motherfuck—” He cut himself off, sucking in deep, even breaths as the familiar teal light of a Diarahan enveloped him, washing away the worst of the pain and nausea and bringing the world back into focus. “Ugh, fucking— Shit… ” He muttered, pressing a hand against his arm.
“Are you okay, Senpai?” He heard Sumire ask timidly.
He gave her a stilted nod, still a bit scattered, tentatively rolling his shoulder as he cracked his eyes open. Sore, but functional. At least it didn’t feel like his nerves were on fire anymore, so that was nice. “Yeah.” He said, shooting her a cocky, crooked smirk, hoping it would come off as reassuring despite the fact that he was fairly certain he was covered in his own blood. “Of course. It’d take more than a Chimera to wipe me out.” He winked.
She looked up at him silently, crimson eyes wide and shining with tears behind her mask, her lower lip wobbling unevenly. Shit. Cockiness had been the wrong move. He blamed the blood loss for not being able to read the situation better. “Senpai…” She started, voice wavering around the word. “I’m so sorry!” She yelled, ducking her head. “I should have been paying more attention, I was so stupid—”
“Hey.” He said, reaching out with his uninjured arm and giving her shoulder a firm squeeze. She looked up at him through her bangs, teary-eyed and trembling. “It’s alright, Sumi.” He said soothingly. “It happens. We’ve all been there.”
She let out a sob, the only warning he got before she threw her arms around him and buried her face in his good shoulder, her body shaking uncontrollably. He gave a small chuckle and held her tight, running a reassuring hand over her back as she sobbed fragile ‘I’m sorry’s into his coat. His Thieves all relaxed around them, sharing relieved, exasperated smiles, Ann reaching down to gently knock him over the head and call him a reckless idiot. They were okay. Everyone was okay…
“Are you quite done?” A voice asked sharply. They all looked up to find Goro standing a small distance away, back rigid and eyes scanning the room restlessly. He looked over at them once he realised he had their attention, his eyes slipping to Akira’s shoulder and face twitching into something the boy was still far too fuzzy to make out before he turned away again. “We don’t have time to dawdle around, licking each other's wounds.” He continued, glaring out at nothing in particular.
Ryuji scoffed loudly, rising from his crouch with a glare that promised Akira was going to have to break up yet another fight between them. He just barely held back a sigh. He loved his Thieves, he really did, but sometimes it was like wrangling cats. Or very young children. “Seriously, dude—” Ryuji started, fists clenched and shoulders squared, and Akira opened his mouth to tell them both to knock it off—
“No, he’s right.” Sumi cut in before he had the chance to, pulling away to wipe her eyes. “We should keep moving.”
She rose to her feet and held out a hand, Akira giving her a grateful smile as he took it and got hoisted to his feet. Ryuji pursed his lips, looking between them and Goro uneasily, before finally folding with a sigh. They started moving through the sterile white halls again, their usual carefree conversation starting back up like clockwork. Akira spared the others a fond glance before falling back into step with Goro, who still looked like a string pulled taught and ready to snap. “Crow,” He started, reaching out a hand, only for him to snatch his arm away with a snarl.
“Leave it, Joker.” He snapped, walking ahead before he could retort.
Well. Alright then. Akira allowed himself a huff and an eye-roll before catching back up with the main group, obligingly pretending not to notice the way Goro was practically quivering with pent up emotions. He was angry, sure, anyone could tell that much, but Akira was fairly certain there was more to it than that. That the main thing fueling that anger was simple worry. He knew him well enough to notice his constant glances at his arm, the aborted movements as if wanting to reach out but thinking better of it, the vulnerability covered by anger because anger was so much easier than fear. It wasn’t healthy. But Akira understood. He’d leave him alone for now. And if he didn’t get over himself by the time they left the Palace for the day, he’d just have to push until he folded. He could be persistent when he wanted to be.
It seemed that wouldn’t be necessary, however, as about an hour after the Chimera incident, while they were leaving a safe room, Akira felt clawed fingers close around his wrist and tug him to a stop. He couldn’t quite stop the small sound he let out, his sore shoulder protesting the abrupt movement, and Goro let go immediately, flinching back as if burned. They stood there in a heavy silence for a long moment, Akira unsure what he could say to diffuse the situation, and Goro too prideful and stubborn to just voice his concerns like a normal person. Instead, he stood there with his shoulders tense and his arms crossed, making quick, aborted glances at Akira’s injured arm, clearly worried yet refusing to admit it.
After it became painfully apparent that they’d be standing there forever if Akira didn’t do anything, he wordlessly pulled Joker’s coat down, offering his bare arm for Goro to inspect. It was pink and a bit swollen and still throbbed dully, an ache he knew would follow him into the real world for the next couple of days, but the worst had passed. A long, taut moment later Goro reached out a careful hand, grasping his arm and running the tips of his gauntlets’ clawed fingers over the irritated skin with a gentleness Akira hadn’t expected from him, at least not with Loki’s influence so strong.
“You need to be more careful.” He mumbled, his voice a soft rumble that caught in Akira’s chest and squeezed.
He smoothed his fingers over his shoulder and down his arm, goosebumps rising on the sensitive skin as Akira failed to hold back a shiver. “Goro…” He started softly, the other boy flinching at the sound of his name. “I didn’t mean to worry yo—”
And just like that the moment was over, Goro pulling back with a scoff, bristling like a prideful cat. “I’m not— worried.” He snapped. “Not about you. More about your utter lack of self-preservation.” And it was like a dam had broken, the words pouring out of him in furious bursts.
“You’re the leader of these incompetent fools, without you they’re like— like chickens running around with their heads cut off!” He sucked in a sharp breath, gesturing out with a hand as he ranted. “You’re too reckless, Akira, you can’t just— throw yourself to the wolves like that! If you die, what happens then?” He met his eyes sharply. “Did you ever stop to think about that? Who would lead them if you fell? You need to stop being so damn— selfless. They are acceptable losses, you are too important to lose over something as simple as a goddamn Chimera—”
“Goro.” Akira said softly, tamping down on the way his heart fluttered at the words, the rare display of honest care and concern— as honest as Goro got, anyway. He reached out to grasp his arm, the other boy going deathly still beneath his touch, staring at his hand on his arm like it shouldn’t be possible. “I’m okay.” Akira murmured, taking a risk and running his thumb in slow circles that could have pushed Goro to pull away, but instead just made him shiver. “I’m fine. It worked out.”
“You could have died.” Goro breathed shakily. “To a lowly Chimera. And then what would—” He cut himself off with a sharp breath, hands flexing, like he wanted to snatch his arm back but couldn’t quite bring himself to.
“Hey.” Akira mumbled, squeezing his arm until crimson eyes met his, uncertainty and fear roiling in their depths, making him look more like a scared child than a dangerous assassin. “I’m alive, aren’t I?” He asked softly. “And you know as well as I do that I’m never gonna stop taking risks for you guys. Whether I’m the leader or not.” Goro stared up at him silently, looking so horribly— lost it made his heart ache.
“You’re too selfless.” He whispered. “You need to look out for yourself. No one else will.”
“My Thieves will.” Akira said. “You will.” He added softly.
Goro looked away quickly, expression contorted with something like pain. Like regret. Like guilt. “You shouldn’t rely on me.” He murmured. “I won’t always be there.”
“Why not?” Akira prompted gently. Goro just avoided his eyes guiltily.
Akira stared at him. He… didn’t know what to do in this situation. When Goro’s usual snappy, sarcastic attitude melted away to reveal a damaged boy who didn’t know how to handle kindness. He wanted to keep going, to keep prying with gentle touches and gentler words, but… he was already on thin ice. It was a wonder it hadn’t broken yet. Goro was hiding something from him, it didn’t take a genius to figure that out, but… they had time. They didn’t have to do this here. They could talk about it later, once this was all over, once they were safe on the other side, back in their true reality.
So, with a small breath and a last moment to bask in their closeness, the warmth of Goro’s arm beneath his hand and the dizzying scent of leather and iron and smoke in his lungs, he let his smile take on a playful, crooked edge, giving him an out just this once. “Don’t lie to me, Crow. We both know you love rescuing me.” He said with a wink, Joker’s confidence hitched up to its fullest.
Goro’s eyes went wide behind his mask, the open vulnerability transforming to shock. Then he scoffed and stepped back, rolling his eyes with a wry smile. “Keep dreaming, Joker.” He shot back, his relief almost palpable.
“Maybe I will.” Akira purred, leaning the slightest bit into his space, just for the way Goro’s eyes flashed dangerously and the air between them turned electric. Then, he turned on his heel and led the way down the corridor, keeping an eye— and ear— out for the rest of his Thieves.
Goro wordlessly fell into step beside him, their silence an easy, comfortable one. There were a lot of unspoken things between them. A lot of things Akira wanted to say and ask and do. A lot of things Goro wasn’t telling him. But they had time. For the moment, for perhaps the first moment since they’d met, they had time.