cw: ship sinking, underage drinking, teenage edgelordship

Knock.

Knock knock.

Knock knock knock.

Yusuke peeked from behind the easel and glanced at Akechi, who was doing his best impression of a corpse resting against a wall. "Allow me to remind you that you asked me to remain silent."

The detective rolled his eyes. "Come in!"

The door opened, and Sojiro entered the room, carrying a glass bottle and two shot glasses in his hands. He glanced at the painting-in-progress - it looked chilling. "Yusuke, could you leave? I wanna talk to the suicidal kid in private."

"Eh, he can stay." Akechi shrugged. "I'm eighty percent sure Futaba's recording everything with my bugged phone anyway."

"Very well." The barista put the glasses and the bottle on the desk. "Do you know what a bruderschaft is?"

"Sounds like a bomber plane designation."

"It's a European drinking ritual," Sojiro explained, pouring the alcohol. "Two people drink cross cups to signify that they're now on a first name basis. More civilized than pointing a loaded gun at someone."

"And also gets me drunk so that I open up and talk."

"Yes."

"You don't have to do this, Mr Sakura," Akechi got up from the floor, model gun still in his hand. "Once Shido's machinations will be revealed to the wider public, I will no doubt be apprehended, tried, and either imprisoned or executed. And until that point, I can just stay out of the way."

"You're awfully confident that things will go as you had planned, considering the past week," Sojiro countered. "And besides, even if I didn't want to have a conversation with you for my own peace of mind, Akira and Futaba both insisted that we talk in private."

"Well, if they want us to do this, let's skip to the meritum." Akechi grabbed the bottle with his free hand, and poured its contents into his mouth. The burning in his throat took him by surprise, but he pressed on, gulp after gulp, and then slammed an empty bottle on the desk. "This…" He turned a bit green around the gills. "This might have been a mistake."

"Should I fetch a bucket?" Sojiro asked, unfazed.

"Not," he burped, sitting down on his bed, "not yet."

The barista glanced at the two shot glasses on the desk. "Very well then," he took a sip from his and sat down on the free chair. "Yusuke, do you want what's left?"

"I'll pass for now."

"Okay then," Sojiro turned to Akechi, "is there anything in particular you want to talk about, Goro?"

"If slash when I end up on death row, can I have your curry for my last meal?"

"If it can be arranged, sure."

The detective, not expecting a serious answer, felt like someone pulled a rug from underneath him. "Um, that's… thank you, sir."

"Call me Sojiro," he corrected. An awkward pause followed. Since the detective appeared to have run out of topics, he said: "I'm curious about something. You do not have to answer if you don't want to."

"Ooh, a curveball," Akechi flashed a cocky smile. "Go on."

"At any moment, did you ever consider taking the kidnappers' offer?"

"No."

"Hm." The barista raised an eyebrow. "Mind elaborating?"

"All of the risks of my past wetwork with no protection from consequences. Also, I had a hunch that they'd screw me over for no reason, even if I complied. A hunch they were kind enough to confirm when I told them something they didn't want to hear," the detective went on. "Also, considering I was wearing a bug the whole time and had three competent fighters waiting outside, do you really think I would be able to just… get out there and go and kill Jo-, erm, Akire-, uh, Akira?"

"You also appreciate our companionship," Yusuke added, with a faint smile on his face.

"Well, y-yeah, but… but if I said that, would you believe me?"

"Probably," Sojiro replied. "I mean, I had talked to the others, and the overall sentiment was 'he's trying'. Even the second gun debacle looked like you were trying to help in your own misguided way. Am I right?"

"Um…" Beat. "Moving on, just to give definite proof that I was on your side the whole time…"

"Nobody is doubting that now."

"If I considered another betrayal for even a moment, I would've pointed out that killing Futaba would've been more damaging to the group. The Thieves would have managed without Akira's charisma, connections and combat versatility, but not without her absurdly broad knowledge of technology."

Without missing a beat, Sojiro emptied his shot glass.

"…this sounded more compliment-y in my head. But yeah, Futaba's great. She helped me get the kompromats on Shido that'll go up tomorrow, and she…" He lowered his head. "And she also told me to, quote, 'stick around' and not get myself killed. Because, quote, 'things might get better'." Pause. "Disclaimer: she told me that after I gave her a knife and asked her to kill me with it."

"Why nobody had sent you to a psychologist at any point is beyond me," Sojiro sighed. "Are you two getting along now?"

Beat, followed by Akechi pulling out a phone and dialling a number. After a moment, Futaba opened the door. "You called, Rootkit?"

"I did," he put away his phone. "Are we two getting along now?"

"Hm." A pause followed, as the three men awaited her reaction. "You know, when you delete a file, you don't overwrite the data by default. You just tell the system that hey, you can write things there now, and you can get the file back with some tools if you try." She closed her eyes and took a slow, deep breath. "It still stings, you know? How I'll never get to tell my mom about my day and how she'll never pat me on the head after I do something right."

Akechi lowered his head, ashamed.

"But, well," she opened her eyes, "you saved my dad from a bunch of jerks that tried to hurt him. And you're a better person than you were last week, and by induction you're going to be a better person a week later, and a week after that and… you get the idea." Another pause. "So, let's take all my complicated feelings, cast them to a boolean, and say 'yes, we two are getting along now'." After a bit, sorry, a beat, she opened her arms. "Bastard hug?"

The detective braced himself. "…bastard hug."

Cue a bastard hug. Sojiro stared at his daughter, in awe of how far she had come over the past few months, and shed a single proud tear.

"Do you require a tissue, Boss?"

"No, no, just got something in my eye," he lied.

The geek released the detective. "Can I still call you Rootkit?"

"You can call me anything you want, but Rootkit is alright," he replied, smiling. "As I said, it's clever and personalized."

"Good." She smiled back and moved towards the door. "I'm gonna go back to the group, feel free to join us when you're done."

She left the room, closing the door behind

"It's good that you're on speaking terms, but I'm drawing a line in the sand:" Sojiro crossed his arms, "she's off-limits dating-wise."

"It never crossed my mind," the detective reassured. "Truth be told, I don't think I'm attracted to women to begin with."

"Akira is also off-limits."

"…I'm not attracted to men either. I think," he said, unsure.

"You're asexual then?" Yusuke asked.

The detective looked at him like a zit had just materialized on his forehead. "Ay-what now?"

"Asexual," the artist explained, "'A-' meaning negation or absence and-"

"There's a word for that?"

"Of course there is," Yusuke said. "I am assuming you didn't receive proper education in that matter."

"I didn't receive any. I learned that same-sex attraction is a thing after someone had forwarded some…" Akechi shuddered, "unprompted fanart to me."

"Do I need to point out there's no shame in feeling no sexual attraction?" the artist added. "And no one will judge you for not being heterosexual, you're the fourth team member that designates himself as such."

"Akira and Futaba are two," Sojiro piped up, "and who's the third? If they're out of the closet and fine with me knowing, obviously."

Yusuke smiled. "Me."

"And if I can ask, you are…"

"Unconstrained by labels. Beauty is beauty."

"Can we please change the topic?" Akechi asked. "I'd rather talk about literally anything else."

"Like what?" the barista asked.

Beat, as the detective's mind scrambled for something, before he remembered about the model Glock in his hand. "Guns! They're cool." He pointed it away from the other two. "Pew pew pew!" A faint smile appeared on his face.

Sojiro just looked at him. "…you know, I can't say I didn't hold a grudge against you, but the more time I spend with you, the more I realize you're as much a troubled kid as the rest of them."

"Oh yeah, let's focus on how sad the hatchet man is," he rolled his eyes, putting the model gun away. "I mean, yeah, killing people is bad, but do you know how hard it is to wash off all the blood from the clothes?"

"Cold water works wonders."

Akechi stared at him for a moment. "That was a metaphor," he explained. "Shadows do not bleed."

"What was it a metaphor for?"

"For focusing on bad things happening to a bad guy, as if he didn't deserve…" he paused, expecting Morgana or Futaba to materialize from thin air to bite him. "…if he didn't deserve it all."

Yusuke put away his brush. "So, after a person crosses a line - let's not focus on where that line should be placed for now - they do not deserve any form of mercy, politeness, or humane treatment. Do I understand you correctly?"

Akechi gave him a confident stare. "Yes, you do."

"Hm." The artist put on a faint smile. "That reminds me of one of Madarame's former pupils. He had blackmailed someone into posing for a nude painting."

"Wow," the detective muttered.

"Wasn't Madarame an abusive credit-stealing prick?" Sojiro pointed out.

Akechi looked at him with disdain. "Are you seriously excusing that bastard?"

"Of course not," he replied. "Merely acknowledging how someone can fall so low with no proper role models." He turned to Yusuke. "That kid was your age, wasn't he?"

"More or less."

"Bull-fucking-shit," Akechi spat. "Yusuke was raised in the exact same surroundings and came out with a functioning moral compass. That asshole has no excuse."

"I need to introduce you to him at some point." The artist was mildly amused that the detective didn't spot the obvious twist. Maybe it's the glass of pure ethanol in his system. "On second thought, I'll do so now." He outstretched his hand. "Hello, I'm that a-hole. Can I call you Goro?"

"Uh…" Akechi was taken aback. "Er, I mean…" He raised his hands defensively. "Okay, look, you've made mistakes, but at least yours didn't end up with people killed."

"Is that where the line is now?" Yusuke looked at him with a faux-innocent expression. "Murder or manslaughter?"

"Yes!"

"Akira is beyond redemption then. And, if we count intent, so are Har-"

"It was a fucking accident!" The detective sprung up from the bed and swayed just a little bit before steadying. "What point are you trying to make now, Kitagawa?"

"The point is," the artist remained calm, "morality is neither a matter of black or white, nor carved in stone, never to be changed without Phantom Thief shenanigans."

"Honestly," Sojiro spoke up, "if the choice is between admitting you can be a better person after all you've done or claiming everyone past a certain line is irredeemable, no exceptions, I'm picking option one."

"Oh, really?" Akechi turned confrontational, to the barista's utter indifference. "What would the late Mrs Isshiki say to that, huh?"

"I have no clue," he shrugged. "But her daughter has a cute nickname for you and I trust her judgement."

A weird, one-sided staredown followed, as the detective found himself irritated by how patient Sojiro was. Not a single wrinkle on his face suggested he was upset with him.

"Can I ask you another question?" Sojiro finally said.

"No," Akechi growled. "Get out of my room."

"Okay." He wordlessly grabbed the empty bottle and his shot glass. "You sure you don't want what's left, Yusuke?"

The detective's expression softened noticeably. "Wait, you're actually leaving the room?"

"You asked," Sojiro said, getting up. "And trying to get to you right now isn't the best idea. I should've done this with less alcohol. Feel free to approach me later if you want to talk again."

"Um…" Akechi looked aside. "…o-on second thought, we can continue the conversation."

The barista put the bottle and shot glass back on the desk. "Are you sure? I don't want you to force yourself to do this."

And then the dam burst. "No. I'm not sure. I'm not sure of anything at this point. I'm not sure if I'm regretful or if I'm just mad at myself for losing on the last stretch, I'm not sure if I prefer your current patience over being dragged over the coals over my fuck-ups, and I'm not sure if I shouldn't just, I'unno, throw myself under a subway train during rush hour as a last middle finger to society."

He took a deep breath, as Sojiro sat back down on the chair. "I'm going to ask for your tie, belt and shoelaces."

Akechi reached for his waist. "The tie stays. Take my word for it, it's not strong enough to hang yourself on," he said, unbuckling and pulling out his belt. "It would be like," he grabbed the end of the tie and mimicked hanging himself, then let out a "Trrrrr!", trying to sound like ripping fabric, and allowed himself to fall to the floor. The artist covered his mouth and almost stifled a giggle. "You're allowed to laugh, Yusuke." He sat up and started removing his shoelaces. "I still don't understand why all of you care."

"Let me turn this around:" the barista said, "why would we not care? What's the alternative?"

"Schadenfreude. Satisfaction from my suffering."

"How much satisfaction would we earn from the suffering of someone in your position?" Yusuke pointed out. "Maybe if you had kept your disproportionately high opinion of yourself…"

"Eat as much, heh, crow as I did over the past few days and then try to have a high opinion about yourself." Akechi handed over his shoelaces to Sojiro. "You've said you have a question, what was it?"

"You seem to believe you're past redemption, unable to fix what you've broken."

Akechi nodded.

"And yet, you aren't idly waiting for your demise. Breaking into Shido's office and putting yourself at risk to save me, something I… can't thank you enough for, sounds pointless with that mindset. And talking down Haru from shooting you seems to go against your obvious death wish."

"The first thing was just for my personal vendetta," he explained, "the second was making sure that Futaba doesn't lose a second parent to my bullshit, and the third… I deserve to die, she doesn't deserve to have my death on her conscience." Pause. "On a more general level, I don't want to just sit on my hands while the Thieves do all the heavy lifting, you know? If I'm still alive and sane-ish, I might as well help them fight back. For their sake, not mine."

After a pause, Sojiro said "Giving you a second chance isn't a waste."

"Let's agree to disagree," he replied.

"In hindsight," Yusuke rejoined the conversation, "you have proven to be a valuable and loyal asset."

"In hindsight," Akechi repeated.

"Yes. We were and still are completely aware that, with you having no Shadow to defeat or Palace to infiltrate, allowing you to try and help us was a risk."

"And yet you dragged me out."

"Because there's something abhorrent about compromising our values because it's an inconvenience or because the victim," cue air quotes, "'deserved it'."

"Nobody would've held it against you if you left me behind. Hell, nobody would've known."

"We would." The artist paused for a moment, before picking up the full shot glass. "I keep thinking what would have happened had the others harboured an understandable grudge after what I've done," he said, inspecting it. "If, at any point, Madarame decided that he wants me destroyed, because I'm not useful to him anymore, or because he had a whim… do you think anyone would notice or care?" He poured the vodka down his throat and grimaced.

The detective found himself relating to him, which worried him immensely. "Do you- do you want a hug or something?"

"It's not necessary, but thank you." Yusuke smiled. "Get up from the floor and let's rejoin the others."

"I don't know if I should." Leaning against his bed, he got up from the floor. "If I've earned the right."

"They were pretty explicit that you did," Sojiro pointed out. "Just don't ask Haru what her father would say to that."

"…I'm sorry for that, by the way."

"Apology accepted, now get out there."

The detective took a breath, grabbed his trousers to stop them from falling, and marched out of his room and into the living room, followed by the artist and the barista. Everyone sitting on or around the couch turned to him.

"I… If I may…" he stammered out.

Futaba tapped the spacebar to pause the movie. "Yeah? What is it, Rootkit?"

"I just… I wanted to ask if I…" His face turned a bit green, "…be back in a bit."

He spun around and promptly marched to the toilet. Muffled sounds of alcohol-fueled stress vomiting followed. Then, flushing, hand washing, and he walked back out. "So, um… first name basis, everyone?"

"Does that include the narrator?" Joker asked.

"Um, yeah, sure," Ake... uh, Goro shrugged, then sat down on the floor next to the couch. "Feel free to unpause the movie, I will try to catch up."

"Just one thing." Futaba turned to Sojiro, "Dad, if Rootkit can get drunk on vodka, can everyone else get some booze too?"

"I'd be fine with that, but I don't think I can afford any more alcohol out of my own pocket."

In response, Joker pulled out his wallet and tossed it at the barista. He opened it and glanced inside.

"…okay, but only one can or glass per person. Most of you have school tomorrow."

Deep down the collective consciousness, a god was sitting by his desk, pondering the current situation.

The Trickster has managed to remain alive and afloat, continue fighting against the corrupt people in power, defeat the opposite Wild Card, and inexplicably earn his loyalty.

That couldn't be. That wasn't how it was supposed to go. The people clearly didn't want this. They were too terrified to accept any disruption to the order. If they weren't, the god wouldn't be around to have those thoughts in the first place.

They simply needed a small nudge to realize it. It wasn't cheating.