Work Text:
He should do something.
Yusuke: Does anyone happen to have any plums?
Yusuke: I can't find any that meet my criteria
Makoto: I suppose they would be rare. It isn't plum season yet
Makoto: What criteria are you looking for?
He really should do something. It wasn't right for him to be getting these messages.
Yusuke: I saw a very appealing one in a show that was shaped like a penguin. I would also like it to be on the lighter side in terms of color
Ann: I don't think you're going to find that Yusuke
Ryuji: What do you think plums are dude
Futaba: What show?
He shouldn't be able to read these messages at all actually. He was meant to be dead. But, clearly that wasn't the case.
Or at least wasn't the case now. He remembered dying. He remembered bullets piercing his chest and being surrounded by shadows as his consciousness faded away. And yet, now all he had left from it were healing wounds and the accompanying obnoxious pain.
Yusuke: I can't remember what it was called. It was playing on one of the TVs at an electronics store near Kosei
Yusuke: But it was amazing art
Yusuke: I wish I knew what it was. I wish to admire that art again
Ryuji: It wasn't even a real plum!
He should be dead. And he shouldn't be reading these messages. But here he was alive. And for some god forsaken reason, he was still in the Phantom Thieves group chat.
Haru: I have some weirdly shaped tomatoes if you're interested in those
Futaba: Was it this show?
[Link]
He shouldn't be. But it seems that out of all things to carry over from Maruki's reality it would be the fucking group chat.
Sumire: That plum does look like a penguin! It's so cute!
Yusuke: That's it
Yusuke: Beautiful
Ann: Tech master Futaba strikes again
Haru: That is quite a cute plum though! I wonder what I would have to do to grow more interesting fruit
He should be removed from it. Did the rest of the Phantom Thieves know that his number was still added? Did they care? They probably believed that he was dead, and a dead person couldn’t read text messages.
He should remove himself from the chat. He should stop reading these messages. They weren't for him. They didn't want him reading them. They didn’t know he was reading them.
And he really didn’t care for them. He didn’t care about what the thieves were doing now. Their seemingly mundane problems and trivial conversations were meaningless to him.
Akira: I have some weird fruit
[Image]
And yet, Goro didn't remove himself, and he read all of the messages.
It wasn't like he had anything better to do while sitting in a hospital room.
Ryuji: What the heck bro? Where did you find that banana?
Ann: It hurts to look at
Haru: Oh my
Futaba: Cool!
Goro clicked on the attachment and was met with a picture of the most grotesque banana he had ever seen. Next to it was a familiar face smiling proudly. A small smile formed on his face at the sight.
He saved the picture.
Akira: It was at the store this morning
Yusuke: This is the opposite of what I wanted
He should remove himself from the chat. He shouldn't ghost around. It was a waste of time. And it was an invasion of privacy.
Makoto: Akira, please throw that away.
Akira: That's what Morgana keeps saying
Akira: But I'm not going to waste food
But he was bored. And he had nothing else to do. And it was…nice. And since when did he care about people’s feelings?
Haru: No!
Sumire: I wouldn't recommend that senpai
Ryuji: Your funeral dude
Futaba: Do it! Do it! Do it!
It's not like anyone would find out he was reading the messages anyway.
After Maruki's reality had crumbled, instead of waking up in hell or being met with nothingness, he woke up on a bed in one of the shelters he and his mother frequented when he was younger. His body ached, and he was covered in bandages, but he was very much alive.
He stayed at the shelter for a month attempting to catch his bearings and come to terms with his survival before leaving.
He still didn't know how he ended up there. And he most certainly wasn't sure how he was alive. But it was what it was. That's how it had always been.
Afterwards, he ended up running into some of Shido's more loyal underlings, and after what seemed like an annoying eternity, but was in actuality only a few days, he managed to get away with the information he needed.
He was supposed to just deliver it to Sae. But the universe never worked in his favor, and somehow he ended up waking up in a hospital room with Sae looking over him concerned and the nurses and doctors treating him like some medical marvel.
One even had the gall to ask him how he was alive to his face.
After three different surgeries and two bullets extracted from his chest that somehow didn't end his time on earth, he was lying on a hospital bed alone. It was then that he actually charged his phone. He hadn’t paid his phone bill in months, but it worked perfectly as if nothing had happened at all. The only thing missing was the metaverse app.
He couldn’t decide whether he felt relieved or aggravated at its absence.
But before he could parse his feelings over that particular problem, a message came in. A message from the Phantom Thief group chat.
He should have muted the chat right then and there. Removed himself from it. Blocked all of them. Hell, he should have just turned his phone off. Or maybe thrown it out of the hospital window. That would have been for the best in a number of ways.
But he didn't.
Which led to the present. Him still lying on a hospital bed and watching as chat messages rolled in. They were having a meaningless argument about cheese that morning.
"Akechi kun?"
Oh. Sae was already here. He hadn't noticed her come in.
"Good morning," he mumbled.
Sakamoto was a big fan of swiss. Such a strange thing to know about a person.
"How are you feeling?" She asked.
He hummed. How was he feeling? He wasn't sure. He could recognize that he was in some sort of pain, but it was like it wasn't his own.
What a strange thought. What did the nurses drug him with?
He felt tired. So tired. It took too much energy to even open his mouth.
"I'll consider that as you saying the same as yesterday."
He nodded his head.
Takamaki was now telling a story about her and her friend from middle school that involved canned cheese. And a hair brush. He couldn't remember what he just read.
He was too tired to scroll up and reread it.
"Shido's sentencing trial was scheduled for September 13th today."
Was it now? That was months away.
How different was he after his change of heart? He hadn't seen him since. He had only watched a recording of his confession while he was in Maruki’s reality. It was pathetic. That wasn’t the same man who selfishly called for people’s deaths. The same person who abandoned his mother.
What was his father doing in jail now? Did he still think he was dead? Did he blame himself? Did he regret it? Or did he not care?
Maybe. Maybe even a change of heart wasn't enough to get that asshole to care about him.
Whatever. It didn't matter anymore. It was out of his hands. He threw away any chance of getting revenge.
But that didn't mean he had to be happy about it. Maybe it was irrational to be angry that the Phantom Thieves did what he had asked them to, but it would be difficult for him to ever argue he was a paragon of rationality.
"Someone from the police wanted to speak with you. I told them you still weren’t feeling well enough, but they insisted."
How annoying. Everyone was always so annoying.
"When?"
"Tomorrow."
So soon.
"You still remember the fake story I gave you, correct?”
Of course he did. Sae had explained quite thoroughly that it was imperative that he go along with her story if he wanted to make sure not just Shido but all the other Phantom Thief targets stayed locked up. Wouldn't want to go delegitimizing the confessions of the brainwashed. Ha.
He was too tired to argue with her about it. Maybe he’d regret his compliance in a month. That was future him’s problem.
He just nodded his head.
"Good."
Though he supposed he shouldn't be complaining. He would be locked in a cell otherwise. Or at least after he left the hospital. Instead, Sae spun a tale that took out all the murder and painted him as a poor coerced fool who was threatened to do as his father said.
And eventually everyone would know he was a pathetic miserable undesirable dumbass. And the news would certainly love talking about it.
He turned his attention back to his phone. Nijima was now trying to convince everyone to not ruin Shujin's new principal's office by defiling it with spray cheese.
"The doctor said you should be able to leave the hospital soon."
Kitagawa seemed to be having the most fun imagining the plan. Yoshizawa was surprisingly approving of it. Akira was disappointed that he couldn't join them.
He wondered what the new principal had done to warrant such hatred.
"You can stay with me until you get your bearings. Makoto’s at university, so there’s space."
His attention snapped away from his phone.
"That's kind of you to offer. But I'll decline."
"Let me reword that. You will stay with me once you’re released from the hospital."
He could say that she couldn't force him. He could say he didn’t want to stay with her. Or insult her and remind him of his crimes.
He didn't say anything.
He was too tired to respond to her. Sae stayed quiet the rest of the visit.
Someone came to speak with him the next day. Goro did his best to act like his detective prince self even while dosed up on whatever drug the nurses had injected into his veins. The person seemed happy though, so he must have done well.
Though he also remembered breaking down crying so maybe not. He couldn't remember properly. Which parts were real and which parts did he make up?
He wasn't thrown into a cell or handcuffed to his bed though. Sae hadn't scolded him for messing up either. So it must have been good enough.
He couldn’t bring himself to feel much over the success.
He was released from the hospital a week later with three separate prescriptions. He didn’t plan to try any of them.
Sae’s apartment looked the same as the one other time he had seen it. The younger Nijima was nowhere to be seen as promised.
"You should rest for now," Sae instructed. "You're still injured."
He opened his mouth to protest, but Sae's expression led him to believe that she wouldn't be convinced. He sighed and sat on the couch instead.
"I'll get started on dinner."
He silently sat there as Sae began to bustle around the kitchen. He should help. But he'd probably get yelled at. So he waited.
His phone buzzed.
He supposed that it would make a suitable distraction.
The chat was lively again.
Akira was talking about making sushi.
He wanted sushi.
He wanted Akira's sushi.
He should say something.
No. No he shouldn't.
He needed to disappear. It was better if Akira believed he was dead. He'd be happier if he never had to see him again. He’d be sad for a few months at most. But he’d get over it. He’d realize his own irrationality. Get over his stupidity and move on with his life.
He’d stop thinking about him entirely in a few months.
And he should. He should move on.
Akira sent a picture. A messed up plate of sushi along with a disgruntled Morgana and a smiling Akira pleased with the misery he caused.
Akira: Mona says I need more practice
And Goro should move on too. He was alive. Whatever the reason. He needed to figure his shit out.
But…
There was nothing wrong with ghosting a group chat. Surely the news would report on his survival soon enough and he would be promptly removed. He could get some enjoyment out of it until then. It wasn't hurting anyone.
And even if it was, it wasn't like he was against doing so. He was a selfish person.
He saved the picture onto his phone.
Would Akira have come to his funeral if he had really died? Would he leave flowers? Talk at his grave? Say sorry as if he had anything to apologize for before leaving forever?
He missed him. It was an annoying feeling.
He wished he could just hate Akira and his annoying friends like he was meant to. Or maybe he was happier knowing that his feelings went against a god’s expectations.
He didn’t know.
But he supposed he was at least content with the way things turned out. Akira was fine at least. And now, that's all he really wanted from him.
Well, maybe not all he wanted. But he'd push down his own ugly feelings. Akira didn't need them. And he most certainly didn't want them.
His head was beginning to hurt.
Maybe it would have been better if he really had died in his father's cognition. He wouldn't have to think of any of this then.
So much of humanity was addicted to chasing after the feeling of love. So many stories centered around it. So many interviewers asked him what his type was and if he found that special person. So many people put so much energy into making someone they liked care about them back.
Love was a curse.
It was a suffocating and overwhelming feeling. Chasing after it brought pain and heartache and made people do horrendous and irrational things. An ugly emotion that was paraded around as a cure for everything. The meaning of life.
But at the same time, it was something he desperately craved. And always from people he should never be wanting it from.
But it hadn’t always felt horrible. Sometimes it was a feeling that made his chest feel lighter and gave some strange semblance of hope. A desire outside of revenge and death.
Loving Akira felt different from how he loved his mother. How he craved acknowledgement from his father. How he worked towards gaining the public’s attention.
He wanted the emotion to go away. He wanted it to end. He needed it to go away.
He had no purpose for it.
It was easier when he could lie to himself about what the feeling was. Lie that it was hate and nothing more. Stay focused on his task and ignore everything else.
But he knew what the truth was now. And he didn’t have any tasks to distract himself with anymore.
But whether he acknowledged the feeling or not, it didn't change that he had no purpose for it. It was a burdensome feeling that he could really do without. Desires that he wished he could rip out from his own heart and destroy.
Maybe if he still had access to the metaverse he could. This love of his must be distorted in some way after all. None of it could possibly be rational. None of it was wanted.
Maybe he had always been distorted and the god the other’s had killed had forced him to have his persona anyway. It's not like he would know. And it wasn’t like there was anyone willing to answer his questions or explain why some god chose him.
So maybe if the metaverse still existed he would now have a palace. Or maybe it was too late for him and his heart was screwed beyond comprehension because of some supernatural being's meddling.
So many of his feelings had been irrational after all. Distorted.
Loving Akira was no different.
It wouldn't work out. And he certainly couldn't pursue it. He wouldn't. The best thing he could do for Akira was disappear.
Whatever feelings of affection Maruki suggested Akira could possibly have were nonsense. Messed up emotions that Akira would be better without. That he would realize he was better without if he was allowed to move on.
Goro was a being of destruction. A cursed child who led to the death of his mother. A murderer who helped Shido rain chaos all throughout Japan. A god's pawn of ruin.
He wouldn't allow himself to ruin Akira. No matter how much he wanted to. He wouldn't let his selfish desires win.
So he needed to move on as well. He was alive against all odds and logic, and he wasn’t locked in a cell or being tortured by some crazed Shido fanatic. He needed to figure out what to do now.
Maybe he would live a simple life this time. Find a job. A small apartment. And get by. Alone. Like he should have done to begin with.
He still had some of his savings. It wasn’t much, but it would be enough to start his new life. How lucky.
But he would still need a job.
And for that he would need to leave Sae’s apartment.
And for that he would need to be seen by people.
It seemed that society was a major hurdle in his new life plans. It would be troublesome if someone recognized him walking down the street. The news hadn’t even reported on his return. He wanted some peace at least for a little while.
And staying inside would ensure that, but he wasn’t one to be easily deterred.
When he went to the cafe with Akira that one time, he had successfully disguised him by messing up his hair and slipping on his glasses. Of course he wouldn’t rely on just a pair of glasses this time around, but a simple disguise could help.
Some normal clothes paired with his own glasses and a face mask should be enough. Hopefully his hair wasn't what gave him away. It was nearing the end of May, so he would just look more suspicious if he wore a hood. But he might consider investing in a hat.
He walked through the crowds of people with his head down. As always, Shibuya was bustling with people.
Were they looking at him? Were they staring? Did they know? Would they find out?
It felt like a million bugs crawling across his skin. He shouldn't be wearing such plain clothing. And he didn't put on any makeup. And the glasses. He looked like a mess.
What if someone did recognize him? What if someone took a picture of him? An image of his ugly unfiltered self spread across the internet.
Why did he care?
He ducked into an alleyway to calm his breathing. It was fine. It was fine. No one knew it was him. He got all the way to Central Street without a problem. The disguise worked.
He let out a sigh before walking back into the crowd. He really should call it quits for today and get back to the apartment.
"Dude! Where does the stuff you eat even go?"
That voice seemed familiar. Too familiar.
"Like how did you eat three of the challenge burgers?! That's just insane!"
Sakamoto.
Ah. And Kitagawa was with him.
How had he failed to consider this? He couldn't be seen by them. Even with his disguise they would recognize him.
…Maybe. They weren't the smartest duo.
Still, he needed to go.
He was met with a picture of Sakamoto and Kitagawa at Big Bang Burger when he got back.
He really needed to be more careful the next time he went out.
When he was fifteen, before he approached his father, he attempted to find a job. He had mixed success. It seemed some places didn't care much to hire a bastard orphan who wasn't sure if he could even pay for high school.
It seemed he was having the opposite problem now.
"Oh umm…well…Akechi san. We appreciate your interest, but we just think that your… uhh… popularity would take away from business."
"We just don't think it would go well for either of us."
"We just don't want to be targeted by the news or internet."
“Why are you even applying here?”
Annoying. Annoying. So goddamn annoying. Even the humor that came from managers recognizing him and doing a double take didn’t ease his nerves.
And his phone wouldn't shut up. What stupid thing were they talking about now? Their favorite flavor of yogurt? Did Sakamoto say a history fact so wrong that Takamaki was disappointed in him?
He should shatter his phone. Throw it away. Leave. Run. Disappear. Die.
What the fuck was he even doing?
Ann: Look at this cake Akira made!
[Image]
Ann: Isn't it great?
Yusuke: I can think of areas where it could be improved
Yusuke: But for a beginner artist it is marvelous
Haru: It looks beautiful
Ann: Right?
Ann: Its for Akechi's birthday
Ann: Wait shoot
Ann: I mean you know how Akira is. Especially recently. With the food making and the decorating and stuff
Ryuji: Good job Ann
Ann: Sorry
Akira: It's fine
Sumire: I'm sure he would have loved it senpai. It's very well done!
Ryuji: Yeah bro! Even Akechi wasn't that much of a weirdo to deny how great that cake is
Ryuji: I wish I could have some
Yusuke: As do I
Makoto: It looks amazing. I'd almost feel bad eating it. But I bet it's delicious
Futaba: Come back to Tokyo faster. We wish for your food
Akira made him a cake. Akira remembered his birthday. Goro hadn't even remembered his own birthday.
Akira made a cake. To celebrate his birthday. Akira thought he was dead. And made him a cake. For his birthday.
What was wrong with him? Why the hell did he make a cake? What a waste of time. It had been months. Why the hell wasn't Akira over him by now? He was dead.
How was he going to react when the news started reporting on him being alive and walking around Tokyo.
Goro needed to leave. Run. Disappear. Japan had other cities. He had an ample amount to choose from. His mother always wanted to visit Hokkaido. He could move there.
But the cake was nice. The colors were pleasant. Simple but beautiful. A few of the swirls were lopsided and some of the colors mixed in badly.
But it was a cake. For his birthday. That Akira made.
"I'm home."
The last time he had cake for his birthday was the year before his mother died. None of the foster parents or caretakers at the institution cared. And he could never bring himself to buy something on the day.
And Akira made a dead person cake.
Goro could respond. Say he did like it. Say he wished he could actually eat it. Make a joke about Akira remembering his birthday.
"Are you alright?"
Huh?
Oh. Sae was back.
"Of course. Why wouldn't I be? How was your day?"
His voice sounded…off.
"You're crying? What happened?"
Oh. He was.
A cake was nothing to cry about. Especially in front of Sae. How pathetic.
"I'm alright. Don't worry."
Sae sighed. "I'd rather you not lie to me."
It was just cake. He was fine.
What did he have to be crying over? He wasn’t upset. Was he?
"I don't know what you're referring to Sae san. I really am fine. Just became overwhelmed all of a sudden."
Why would he think to message Akira over something like this? As if he deserved to message him. As if he was good enough for someone who would make a dead boy cake for his birthday. What a joke. This was the exact thing he was trying to avoid.
His phone really was going to be the death of him.
He managed to secure a job at a small bookstore. The owner was an old man who had never heard of him, so he was easily able to charm his way into employment.
His boss was nice enough. There weren't any other employees and customers were as frequent as Leblanc's must have been. And his boss had conveniently given him a strange hat to wear during his work and most of the customer base was as old as he was, so there were no issues.
He spent most of his time trying to organize the mess of a bookstore. How did his boss find anything in this mess? How did customers find anything?
But after a week, he had managed to at least figure out how he wanted to organize the store. He had also discovered a new level of dust.
He sneezed loudly on his way to the train station. At least he had a reason to be wearing the face mask.
He entered the train and pulled out his phone.
Yusuke: I require assistance
Ann: What's wrong?
Yusuke: Would anyone happen to know where I am?
Ryuji: why would we know that?
Makoto: What's near you?
Yusuke: A pastry shop
It has very interesting decorations
Everything is yellow and pink
Ryuji: anything else?
Yusuke: there are ducks everywhere
Haru: that doesn't sound familiar
Ann: I wanna see the ducks
Akira: Duck cafe?
The one in Shinjuku?
Futaba: [location]
Here you go
Ryuji: Jjez Futaba
And why the hell did you know that dude?
Akira: don't go to the duck cafe
Yusuke: why?
Sumire: a duck theme sounds cute!
I hope you get home safely Yusuke senpai
Yusuke: I will be fine
Akira: ducks evil
Haru: how did you get lost?
Yusuke: I was lost in thought thinking of what shade of green to use for my next painting
I still haven't decided
Ryuji:it's just green man
It's all the same
Yusuke: NONSENSE
Ann: how is all green the same? Come on Ryuji
Futaba: CAPS LOCK YUSUKE
Sumire: are we ignoring the evil ducks?
Makoto: I am also curious about the evil ducks
Yusuke: How can you even say that the beautiful shade of lime is the same as jade
They are entirely different
You can't use one in place of the other
What's next
Are you suggesting I use neon in my painting?
Futaba: Look what you've done Ryuji
Now we'll never know about the ducks
Akira: what's wrong with neon?
Ryuji: Tell us about the ducks
Akira: no
Goro let out a sigh as he entered Sae's apartment.
They were all still idiots.
He needed to find his own apartment. He had burdened Sae with his presence long enough. And the younger Nijima would be showing her face at some point. He needed to disappear before that happened.
Though living with Sae wasn’t too terrible. She was good company.
But that didn’t change that he needed to leave. And soon. Sae had taken him in as a sense of obligation. He wouldn't burden her anymore.
According to the group chat it would be during summer break when the younger Nijima returned. That didn’t leave him with much time.
According to the group chat, Akira would also be visiting then, so he really needed to disappear before that.
Unfortunately that was harder than it seemed. Why the hell was it so difficult to find a decently priced apartment in Tokyo? Maybe he should move. But he did not have enough money to move.
Damn it.
He should have hidden Mementos money around the city like criminals in movies did. Of course he didn't because he didn't think he'd make it this far.
What to do? What to do?
He let out a sigh as he sat down on the ground next to a stack of crates in an empty side street. Maybe he should just sleep next to the crates as if he was 13 again.
He punched the crates and watched as they crashed onto the ground.
"What was that sound?"
Oh. He should leave.
He quickly stood up and snuck away before an angry man walked outside and started yelling at the toppled over crates and broken glass.
He frowned and made his way back to Sae's apartment. Something was buzzing under his skin. He wished the metaverse still existed. He wanted to pull his sword out and slash through shadows while screaming at the top of his lungs. Something quick without any consequences. He very well couldn't walk into a room and destroy everything in the real world.
Futaba: Is anyone willing to give me 10000 yen?
Ryuji: why you asking for so much money
Futaba: Because Makoto said I can't hack rich assholes and take their money anymore
And I want the new Featherman figure
Makoto: thank you for listening to me
Futaba: I'll listen as long as I still get my figure
Yusuke: I apologize but I only have 200 yen
Futaba: I'm not asking you Inari
Ryuji: I ain't got that kind of money
Ann: I think I'm too far to lend you any money
Futaba: I'm not returning any of the money
Ryuji: get a job
Futaba: no
Sumire: I can give you some money
Not a lot though
Akira: don't give her money
Futaba: shut up Akira
Thank you Sumire
Haru: oh. I can give you money. No worries Futaba
Futaba: wonderful
I need it by tomorrow
I accept gift cards and cash
Akira: sigh
You didn't even ask what figure she wants
Futaba: quiet!
Sumire: what figure are you buying Futaba senpai?
Futaba: I will not be taking any further questions!
Akira: and don't you have a bunch of money from that mobile game you made? Where did that go?
Futaba: I will not be taking any further questions!
He felt tired as he walked back into Sae’s apartment.
He needed to break something. Shout. Punch. Scream.
He let out a snarl as he kicked the wall.
Stupid Phantom Thieves. Stupid Shido.
Stupid changes of heart.
What the fuck?
Asshole didn't have the gall to look him in the eyes. Wrote him a fucking letter and said he didn't want visitors. What fucking right?
He punched the brick wall and hissed as his hand stung with a sharp pain.
He didn't want a sorry from his lobotomized father in the form of a letter. He wanted to watch him grovel at his feet and beg for forgiveness.
Fuck him.
He had asked Sae if he could visit him. He wanted to speak with him. He had things to say and answers to get.
But he couldn’t even get that. All he got was rejection and a single sheet of paper.
The only thing the fucking asshole was useful for was his money. Which was Goro's now. How lucky. How wonderful. He had all of his blood money, and his father refused to look him in the eye.
He should have killed him. He should have just killed him. He should have pulled the trigger in Shido's office and then killed himself right at the start.
Fuck him. Fuck him. Fuck him.
His phone buzzed in his pocket.
What useless fucking thing were they talking about now? Their favorite flower? Did Kitagawa do something idiotic again? Was Takamaki sharing more pictures of deserts? Was Nijima scolding the group for another reckless idea?
He pulled his phone out.
Makoto: it's in Panama
Ryuji: oh so Ann can go see it easily
Ann: huh? How?
Ryuji: you in Europe yeah
Ann: France yeah
Haru: Ryuji no
Ryuji: ain't Panama next to England
These fucking idiots. Always talking about inane things without a care in the world.
Goro: Panama is on the other side of the Atlantic you dumbass
Why the fuck would you think it's next to England?
He shut off his phone and stomped his way over to the train station. Maybe hitting some baseballs would calm him down.
Why the hell did he do that?
What was he thinking? No. He clearly wasn't thinking. He could barely even remember what he was doing when he wrote it.
But it didn't matter. It was over.
Ryuji: no need to be rude about it dude
Makoto: Akechi kun?!
Ryuji: wait what the hell?
Akechi
Futaba: he came back from the dead to call Ryuji a dumbass
Sumire: Akechi senpai is alive!
Ann: What the hell did you do Ryuji
Ryuji: stop blaming me!
Oh well. It was only a matter of time. He was going to be found out at some point. Why not now? What did it matter? What did anything matter?
He removed himself from the group chat. It was of no use to him anymore. A few of the former thieves attempted to contact him individually. He ignored them.
Akira hadn't said anything.
Good.
Goro got his own apartment. He used Shido's blood money. It was a simple space. He only had a bed, couch, and desk in the room. The kitchen contained the bare minimum. His bathroom was full.
Maybe he should have moved to the other side of the country instead of getting a small apartment in Tokyo.
He finished sorting the books at the bookstore. He didn’t feel much at the success.
Maybe he'd move in a month.
His face was plastered all over the news. He could barely escape it.
His face. Shido's face.
Lies.
He hated it. He hated it.
Stupid journalists catching pictures of him. Stupid police for releasing everything.
Leave him alone. Leave him alone.
He shut his phone off and threw it in his closet.
His boss didn't say anything. All of the customers acted normal. Maybe they were too old to care. Or recognize. He supposed it didn’t matter. No one talked to him other than asking for a book.
At least that was a relief.
Though a part of him was offended. How could these people not know who he is? Did none of them watch the news? Were they blind?
Or maybe they did know. Maybe they knew and they were mocking him in their heads. Or pitying him.
What were they thinking? What did they know?
Why wouldn’t they just say it out loud?
Sae had said previously that having to deal with the public once the news broke out was probably a fate worse than a jail sentence would be. A suitable punishment for his crimes. He had thought she was joking. He had enough experience being a celebrity. And with being hated. She couldn't be serious. He was starting to think that maybe she was.
He had most certainly not yet dealt with the worst of it. And he was most definitely avoiding looking at the internet.
His phone was still in his closet. He wondered if Makoto had asked Sae about him. He wondered if she said anything. Maybe she messaged him. He didn’t know. He didn’t care. He didn’t need to check his phone. He didn’t need it. It had never done anything good.
He should break it. Yeah. He should take a hammer and smash it to bits. Grind them in a blender. Flush it down the toilet. Set it on fire.
He wanted to pull it out of the closet. See what people were saying. See if he could do damage control.
Maybe he could salvage this. Get everyone to love him again.
What the hell was he thinking? He hated the public. He didn’t care for their attention anymore. He wanted them to go away.
Or did he want that?
No.
Yes.
He wasn’t sure.
What did he want?
Someone was knocking on his door. It was 8AM and someone was knocking on his door. He should ignore them. But it could be the landlord. He could be here to tell him that the water would be shut off for three hours again today. It would be inconvenient if he was halfway through a shower. Again.
He let out a groan and quickly made himself look slightly presentable before opening the door.
It was not his landlord.
What the fuck was he doing here?
He shut the door.
Or attempted to.
Akira stuck his foot in and pushed on the door. “Can we talk?”
“No. Go away.”
“I brought coffee.”
“I don’t care.”
“And blueberry waffles.”
Goro paused.
Akira was here. Akira was here and he wanted to come inside. He was really here.
He wanted to smile and hug him and let him inside and eat breakfast.
He wanted to shut the door in his face, insult him, and tell him to go away.
He stood frozen at the door. Akira pushed it and let himself in.
Goro scowled. “I didn’t say you could come in.”
“You didn’t stop me.”
How annoying. Goro wanted to push him out.
He closed the door and went back to bed.
Akira started making himself at home in Goro’s kitchen. “How are you?” Akira asked.
“Terrible.”
Akira frowned but stayed silent.
"Did you need something from me?"
Akira looked blankly at him. "No. Just wanted to say hi."
He came to say hi to him. He wanted to see him.
No he didn’t. He was an idiot for thinking it.
"Well, hi. Now goodbye."
Why would he say that? He didn’t want Akira to leave.
Yes, he did. He wanted him gone. He didn’t want to see him. It was better if he never saw him again. He hated him. And Akira should hate him back.
Akira stared blankly before looking at him angrily. "I've missed you, you know."
The idiotic part of his brain preened at the statement. Stupid. It didn't matter. Stay away.
Stay away.
Stay away.
"You're just walking around the city? Living in an apartment. I thought you were dead! And then I find out you're not. Do you know how worried I was? I thought you were still at the hospital. Or in jail. Did you even plan to tell me? Or talk to me?"
Still at the hospital?
He stayed silent.
"Say something!"
"I don't know what you want me to say."
Akira groaned.
“I’m not obligated to tell you everything about myself. You found out I was alive. What else matters?”
There was no need for him to come storming into Goro’s apartment. How had he even found his address? Sakura most likely. Hopefully it wasn’t public knowledge.
“So what?” Akira argued. “You were just planning to disappear? Never wanted to talk to me again?”
No. He wanted to see him. He wanted to talk with him. He wanted Akira to visit.
He didn’t. He didn’t want to. And Akira shouldn’t want to either. He should leave. Should have never showed up. What was Akira thinking?
"I really have missed you," Akira whispered.
No. He was stronger than this.
Don't say anything.
"Please don't disappear again."
He was so tired. So fucking tired.
Goro clenched his fists. "I'm sure you'll be fine without me."
Akira continued staring at the ground. "Maybe. But that doesn't mean I want you around less."
Want him around…
Goro scoffed. "Funny."
Akira looked up at him angrily. "I'm being serious!"
He stood up from his bed. "It's been months. Are you still not over it? Haven't gotten your sense knocked back in?"
"What are you talking about?"
"I'm fine. See! Alive and standing. Not even in a cell where I belong. Life is great. You won! You don't need to worry about me. I'm perfectly okay. No need to waste brain power on me anymore."
"What?"
He put on his best detective prince smile. "You looked distressed when you decided to stop Maruki. Must have hurt. Not being able to save someone. After all, Akira Kurusu is a saint who even wants his murderer happy. And he won. His murderer is fine. And thus, our great hero was able to somehow save him too." Goro frowned. "He can move on now. He doesn't need to feel obligated to care."
Akira glared at him. "What the fuck are you talking about? I don't feel obligated."
Of course he did. He wouldn’t be here otherwise. There was no reason for him to be here otherwise. Akira didn’t care for him as a person. No one did. No one ever would.
"It's okay. It all worked out. You can stop forcing yourself to care."
"I'm not forcing myself. Is it so hard to believe that I care about you?"
“You don’t care about me.”
Or maybe he did. Maybe he really did.
No. Impossible. Akira was just deluded.
Maybe he would have a palace.
"You think Maruki threatened your life to get me to accept his reality because of my savior complex?! Are you hearing yourself? Does that even make any sense? You can't be this stupid!"
"It makes sense to me. More sense than anything else."
Because there was no other option.
Or maybe there was.
“Well, you’re wrong!”
"You being in denial doesn't make me incorrect."
"You're the one in denial."
"You’re insufferable."
Akira shut his eyes and let out a breath.
"If you really hate me. Really don't want me around. You can just say that. I'll leave you alone. But don't tell me how I'm supposed to feel. I can decide that for myself."
Akira was an idiot. Absolutely insane.
And…
And…
Goro sat back down on his bed.
"And you owe me don't you,” Akira mumbled. “I kept your glove."
Akira smiled slightly as he pulled out a familiar glove from his pocket and looked at him. Goro froze at the sight of it.
“Why do you still have that?”
“You told me to keep it. We made a promise.”
Promise? He kept around an old piece of fabric for something as trivial as that.
“I died. You should have thrown it out.”
“Is that what you want?”
Yes.
No.
“Who fucking cares?!”
Akira narrowed his eyes. Without his glasses on it looked as if he was staring into his soul. Goro refused to turn away.
“I care. I care about you. And what you want.”
Idiot.
“I missed you too.” His voice sounded hollow.
Akira looked at him stunned. “Huh?”
“Is that what you want me to say? That I missed you. That I hoped you’d show up. That I hoped you cared about me so much that you ignored the rational part of your brain.
“Or do you want me to tell you that I don’t want you here at all. That I don’t want anyone here. That I want to disappear. Go back to being dead.”
Both sounded appealing. And at the same time he hated the thought of both.
“You say you care about me? Who do you care about? Who am I?”
Akira looked at him blankly. He opened his mouth before promptly shutting it.
“What do you know about me, Akira? Who do you care about? The detective prince? Shido’s puppet? Someone else? Some amalgamation? Some person you created in your head? Who?” Goro clenched his fists. “Who am I? I don’t even know! So who? What the fuck are you so obsessed with? What do you care about?” Goro let out a deep breath and closed his eyes. "It can’t just be me. There is no me."
What was he feeling now? Was he feeling anything? Maybe. Maybe not.
Who cared?
He snapped open his eyes at the feeling of someone touching his hands. He looked down to find Akira crouching in front of him and holding his hands in a death grip.
“I care about you,” he repeated.
“You weren’t listening to a word I said, huh?”
Akira shook his head. “I was. I…” He paused. Goro continued to look at him blankly.
Akira was going to leave now. He didn’t have an answer for him. He was going to realize the problem. Find the error in his thinking. Leave. Forever.
And Goro was going to be alone. Forgotten by everyone who once knew his name. Living in a shitty apartment paid for by money he gained from spilling blood and working a boring job for a boss who didn’t even know what Twitter was let alone know that he once had the city wrapped around his finger and was the current hot topic for everyone to gossip about.
He didn’t want that.
What did he want?
What was he even doing anymore?
Why was he alive?
Why did he exist?
"I care about you," Akira repeated. "I don't know how to explain it. I just care about you. Every version of you I know. I care about him. And the you right now. I care about him too. And every version of you that'll exist in the future. I'll probably care about him too. Whoever that person is or was. I still care."
"That doesn't make any sense."
"It makes sense in my head."
Goro let out a laugh. "You're so weird. Truly. Can't understand you at all."
"I'll take that as a compliment."
Idiot. Complete idiot. What the hell was he even talking about? You don't just care about people. You care about what they can give you. Traits that they have. Things they can do. You care about them because they're useful in some way. People didn't just care without a reason.
But it seemed Akira wasn't able to acknowledge that reason. Or maybe he just refused to tell Goro. Was he a liar or an idiot? He supposed it didn't make a difference for him.
"Hey. Akechi?"
"What?"
"Please don't disappear."
"Huh?"
"If you don't hate the idea of being around me, then please stay."
"Akira…"
"Please. Until you can't stand the idea of being around me. Please don't disappear again. Please."
He sounded like he was begging. Begging for Goro to stay with him. Begging him to stick around.
He wanted him so much he was begging. It made his chest feel lighter.
It was pathetic. Akira begging someone like him for anything. What was his problem? When had Joker become so desperate? It was embarrassing to watch.
What a joke. He'd want to get rid of him in a few months. He won't be able to stand him in a year. Leave himself soon after.
"Akechi?"
But what reason was there to deny his current desires?
He wanted him around. And Goro was so tired.
Even if Akira was lying to his face. It was fine. Akira would get over it after spending time with him. And then he'd never have to deal with him again.
Yes. This was for the best. Akira was in denial. So he just needed to deal with Goro for a few months and then he'd stop lying to himself. No more of this nonsense.
That made sense. That…that definitely made sense.
Having Akira stay for a little while. That was for the best. To get Akira to move on. So he wouldn’t be hurt by him anymore.
And maybe Goro wanted to be around him too. Maybe a part of him was still a naïve child and wanted to believe that it was possible for anyone, let alone Akira, to care about him at all.
"Okay."
Akira smiled up at him. "Yeah?"
"Yeah. As long as you want."
"As long as you want," Akira stressed.
Right. Well, the thought was sweet.
Goro pulled his right hand out of Akira's grasp and gently patted his head. "Sure."
Akira smiled at him as if he had just told him he had saved his life.
Maybe there was something wrong with them both.